FROM THE ARCHIVES April 13th, 1987: Peter Byrnereports on Shamrock Rovers' last game at Milltown: a drawn FAI Cup semi-final second leg with Sligo Rovers

WHEN THEY pulled the gates closed at Milltown last evening and the last, unconvincing pledge of "We'll support you evermore" had risen into the skies over the south city, we were left to contemplate the issue in all its unnerving starkness. Was this really the end of Glenmalure Park? Had another brick been removed from the edifice of old Dublin?

Sligo Rovers had just fought like demons to deny their more aristocratic rivals the win that everything, except stoic Western optimism, suggested. Joyously, from their viewpoint, they have now succeeded in bringing the tie back to the Showgrounds for a third meeting on Wednesday.

But some would say that yesterday's programme had less to do with athleticism than atheism; more an occasion of disrespect for the past than a statement of hope for the future.

Around us, names of warriors who have long since run their course were called up in the cause of keeping the Hoops rolling at Milltown. The game itself was pretty tame but the memories were marvellous.

It was, as one wag put it, a case of the dead walking with the undead; a day when the names of all the legendary Rovers were paraded and yesterday's heroes mingled with today's upstarts in those time warps, so beloved of sportspeople.

And Sligo, honest as ever but lacking the trappings of aristocracy, were not wholly dissimilar to the revellers who stumbled on a wake and stayed for the drink. There have, undeniably, been times when Sligo teams enriched Milltown and its record.

And if this was really the end, if there are to be no more competitive games at the stadium, then the Westerners, I suggest, had no right to a place in the ritual.

Shelbourne . . . yes, or Bohemians. Or even the distant Drums. But fate should have been able to conceive a better punchline than this.

Sligo supporters came on to the pitch to join the young firebrands in a half-time demonstration and share in the invocation of ruin of those who had, in any measure, contrived the monstrous decision to fold tents and slip, unobtrusively, into enemy territory at Tolka Park.

But one sensed that for all the moronic chants they might just as easily have been protesting at the closure of a sub-post office.

The Jesuits ran the Kilcoynes a close second in the unpopularity stakes, but, in the end, even the most rebellious appeared to bow to the inevitability of it all.

Dermot Keely, cast in the role of a Red Adaire, was called on to placate the troubled masses. And, to his eternal credit, this improbable mediator succeeded.

In a sense, the extra curricular activities made the day, for there was little in the game to stoke the fervour of any but the most committed.

Mercifully Sligo scored first and in so doing ensured a sharp competitive flavour throughout a first half which augured well for a memorable finish.

Sadly, it never materialised. Sligo were never good enough and Rovers never committed enough to force a conclusive result in the second half, which was bogged down for long periods in the anonymity of a shallow battle for midfield control.

Dermot Keely, who was bereaved by the death of his mother on Friday, chose, after all, to take his place at the centre of the home defence, but it was scarcely one of the champion's better performances.

Even established performers of the quality of Pat Byrne and Mick Neville struggled to raise the level of their game and while Brendan Murphy continues to embellish his reputation, there was not nearly enough cutting edge in the home attack to avoid the hazards of a midweek journey to the north-west.

Sligo are scarcely one of the country's more attractive teams. From a situation in which they appeared to attack with abandon at the start of the season, they have now rebuilt their game on such a conservative scale that they frequently deployed only one player, Tony O'Kelly, in attack.

Their defence, built around Derek Chubb, Andy Spring, Enda Scanlon and Fred Davis, was never less than dependable, but if they are to win the trophy, manager Gerry Mitchell must revise his philosophy drastically.

In stark contrast to the original scoreless draw at the Showgrounds a week earlier, Sligo required only four minutes to score. Tony Fagan's free kick from the right somehow managed to elude all the big men in the home defence and O'Kelly, unchallenged, was able to make the decisive header from six yards.

That reverse stung Rovers into action but one detected an element of unease creeping into their game after Sligo's net had survived fortuitously in the 23rd minute.

Mick Byrne was fouled by Chubb at the edge of the penalty area but Pat Byrne's free kick just caught the face of the crossbar.

Had Sligo been able to ride out the pressure for the next few minutes, they might well have pushed the opposition into total desperation, but as it transpired the Dubliners contrived an equaliser in the 26th minute.

Noel Larkin, curiously quiet, headed Mick Neville's long clearance directly into the path of Mick Byrne and the centre forward swept the ball home exultantly from no more than a couple of yards.

We were not to know it then, but that was the end of the day's scoring. Murphy, raiding down the right, occasionally threatened Sligo's composure, but, in the end, Sligo almost snatched a winner 10 minutes from the end when the indefatigable John Burke was only narrowly wide with the header from Harry McLoughlin's cross.

Before the end, Tony Fagan, unsparing as ever in the task of motivating Sligo, received a booking which may well take him through the penalty points' limit.

SHAMROCK ROVERS: J Byrne; Kenny, Eccles, Kealy, Brady; Murphy, P Byrne, Dignam, Neville (Monaghan 73), Larkin, M Byrne.

SLIGO ROVERS : Devis, O'Connell, Chubb, Spring, Scanlon, Fagan, Burke, Bayly, Savage, O'Kelly, McLaughlin.