Making a stand for new stadium

I know we shouldn't care what the neighbours think. I know we should have enough confidence to dismiss personal criticism and ridicule with a swish of the hand but the derisory comments of one Portuguese reporter last week about our sporting facilities, specifically Lansdowne Road, grated a nerve that was, frankly, already on the undercooked side.

It was nothing that we didn't realise already - but you know yourself - even if you privately concede that the carpet in the hall is well past its sell-by date, when the neighbours drop in, stare at with contempt and politely ask you (a) how long you've had it and (b) if it was fashionable at the time you bought it, you suddenly re-evaluate it with a fresh pair of impartial eyes. And (c) blush.

And, having very nearly convinced yourself it's not that bad, you summarily accept it is, in fact, dire and embarrassing, and brings nothing but shame on your home. And needs replacing. Quickly.

In other words: Lansdowne Road versus Stadium Ireland.

There's probably not much new to be added to the debate but old wounds were reopened by last week's observations by reporters from Jornal de Noticias, Portugal's largest daily newspaper.

Judging by their remarks they are struggling to reconcile the fact that an prosperous and sport-obsessed western European country still sends its national football team into combat in a stadium (and on to a pitch) that would redden the cheeks of your average Third World citizen.

I should hasten to admit that I'm very nearly as fluent in Portuguese as I am in Swahili and, so, was entirely reliant on an internet translation site to help me read the Jornal de Noticias' reporters' comments in the web edition of their newspaper.

Their account of their match-day trip to Temple Bar: "Before the journalists' admired glance, two hours before the match, when seeing the crowds that fill the bars, and the amount of beer mugs to be going by Irish hands . . . the difficulty in arriving to the counter is so much there is some who swallow two at once, and don't delay a long time to return and to repeat the dose. It is so forth."

Like the chat of those who "swallow two at once", the translation wasn't entirely lucid, but you got the drift.

Jack Charlton? "Always the giraffe. Six years after having abandoned the technical command of the Irish team Jackie (brother of fabled Bobby Charlton) continues to be maybe only dear English in land of the shamrock. Affectionately treated as a gigantic `giraffe', Jackie left in Ireland the followers' natural longing for the successes gotten between 1986 and 1996, 10 years during which he take green to reach final phases of Europeans and Worlds, despite he being `English enemy'.

"This is, in fact, a mark still present. In spite of having elapsed more of middle-century about the independence, English continue to be "persona non thankful" in the island, and, in many cases, the target of anecdotes among many beer glasses. But nice and entertaining, the Irishmen still insist on doing `right' to his fame. As Jackie Charlton say, `any man would say that is a whole night, if she never lived a night of glasses in an Irish bar'."

Sublime.

Good on them, too, for acknowledging our "followers with healthy fair play". Pardon? Well, no matter what Mick McCarthy's team achieves in these World Cup qualifiers (and even if some will always struggle to love him, who can believe his team is top of the group after eight games? Magnificent) nothing will surpass the sense of pride you damn well can't help but feeling when the home supporters at Lansdowne applaud our visiting supporters and greet the "away" national anthem with a dignified, respectful hush.

Jornal de Noticias was a bit impressed too. "The Irish supporters, full of fair play, demonstrated the correct form again on how to behave. It was beautiful to hear the first message of the `service speaker' in Lansdowne Park, that asked the followers a special greeting for the followers Portuguese present in the stadium. The Irishmen answered with a resonant round of applause. And they listened in absolute silence, in respect for the opponent, the song of Portugal."

But? But. They then went on to chuckle at our stadium, with its "archaic tribunes" and trains running under their feet, "15 in 15 minutes". "It was almost hilarious," they said, "a most entertaining situation - but not the worst than happened to the journalists in Dublin," they added, in reference to the miserable facilities at the under-21 game on the Friday night. Their conclusion? "Conditions very different from the ones that they offer in Portugal, it has to be said."

Right, that's it. We deserve much better. Is there any chance, then, that egos could be set aside, stubborn mens' pride surrendered and silly, inflated plans to build a sporting Nirvana few support and even fewer reckon we can afford, shelved and just settle on a modest but marvellous national stadium that would be worthy of our national teams and their exceptional supporters?