Dublin Opinion

I’m almost a month behind the crew over at Danger Here on this one ( How Andy Lost Friends ) but then I never was one for deadlines, was I ? We have learned recently, via the gossiping aul wans of Irish soccer journalism, that the ‘rumoured bust-up’ between Giovanni Trappatoni and a rather portly wide-midfielder from Crumlin centred around the latter’s being up too late with an acoustic guitar after the victory over Georgia earlier in the autumn. This revelation came to me shortly after I had discovered that Reid was a budding singer-songwriter (this via an article on Sunderland mentioning him having played in this capacity at a charity fashion show organised by the club).

All of a sudden, I put away my previous rationalisation of Trap’s overlooking of Reid (a stone or so overweight for a pro footballer / not a defensive bone in his body / not even getting his game regularly for Sunderland ) and found a far more satisfying explanation in the curse of the singer-songwriter. Anyone who has survived the legendary ‘Upstairs at the International’ singer-songwriter nights will know where I (and Trap) are coming from.. I haven’t actually survived one myself - but I have spoken to a couple of individuals that have…

I shudder to think what the effect must be on morale in the Republic camp of staying up to 2 AM listening to Andy belting out his angst-ridden classic ‘Hey that’s no way to shout Offside! ‘. Sources close to the team have intimated to me that several key players had to be talked down off their balconies due to the hard-hitting lyrics of his ‘Song for Ireland’ - a heart-rending tale of an insecure wee follicularly-challenged lad horribly bullied by the local corner boys. And as for his ‘The Partizan (Belgrade) Song’… Sweet Sufferin’ Jaysus! … ‘through the graves the wind is blowing’… lethal stuff for a team with 4 shite players in the middle of the park.

Jackie Jameson be with the days when footballers could only muster grunts of ‘Dire Straits’ or ‘Phil Collins’ when anyone mentioned music to them. At least those boys could track back and put an opposing winger into casualty without batting an eyelid.