By Cathal Dervan

There are times in an Irish sporting life when Lansdowne Road’s age and state of dilapidation matters not a jot, times when the ordinary Irish man or woman couldn’t care less that our rugby and soccer teams are asked to play in the most antiquated stadium in Europe.

The famous World Cup qualifier against Holland a few years ago, when Jason McAteer scored the most fantastic goal of his international career, was one such occasion. Last Saturday was another.

The ball was oval this time, the opposition provided by the Springboks, the prize nothing more than victory in what rugby people like to call test matches, friendlies to those of us from a soccer persuasion.

There was nothing really at stake when Brian O’Driscoll led the Irish team out at just after 2:30 last Saturday afternoon – or so we thought.

The game was billed as Eddie O’Sullivan’s Triple Crown heroes against a South African side that had shocked New Zealand and Australia and emerged victorious in the most recent Tri-Nations championship to decide the top team in the Southern Hemisphere.

It was classed as an opportunity for the Irish players to gain revenge for their humiliation on the Cape last summer when they traveled south as newly crowned Triple Crown champions after wins over England, Scotland and Wales and got hammered, not once but twice, by their Springbok hosts.

To rub salt in Irish wounds, the Boks’ coach Jake White had rubbished Ireland after their two defeats last June and repeated his claims in the build-up to Saturday’s first home game since the Crown decider against Scotland back at the tail end of March.

It would all come down to pride, we told ourselves in the creaking old press box as we awaited the arrival of Dricco and his boys in their new change white strip. Pride would drive Ireland forward; pride would ensure they put up a fight against the Men Mountains from the Cape.

Boy were we right. There was pride, pride and passion at its most intense from Ireland.

From the moment the tears welled in John Hayes’ eyes as the national anthem was played, a man known as The Bull by the way, we just knew it was going to be a special day. And it was.

From man of the match Ronan O’Gara, who scored all 17 Irish points including a cheeky 21st minute try, to debutant Johnny O’Connor, there wasn’t an Irish player who didn’t punch above his weight for 86 glory filled minutes.

They were physically smaller but emotionally larger than their much-vaunted opponents. They were pounds lighter but stones heavier in bravery. They were heroes one and all.

The crowning moment came in the final minute as the Boks, camped on the Irish line, worked a ruck out under the East Stand, just five meters from the home line.

They needed a try to draw the match and a conversion to win it. They got neither.

Instead it was Anthony Foley who stole the ball and emerged with the ball from a sea of South African losers as the grand old ground rose to applaud him.

A second later and the final whistle was blown, not just on this game but on Ireland’s days as second rate and second best.

In the past Irish rugby was happy to beat the likes of England and France once in a blue moon, happy to snatch a Triple Crown or a Six Nations when the chance arose. No more.

In recent years they have beaten the Aussies, the English, the French and now the Springboks, beaten them and beaten them well.

They have moved onto a new plateau. They know now they can compete with the best in the world and beat them. 

That’s why last Saturday was so special. That’s why we can look forward to the Six Nations now with real hope next spring.