The 1970s – Irish International Bohemians

To give a flavour of the type of players who wore the red and black of Bohs in the decade of glam rock, disco and punk, here is a team of 1970s Bohemians who represented Ireland. Between them they accumulated 185 full caps, and scored 24 international goals: Gerry Daly 13; Mick Martin four; Turly O’Connor and Mick Leech two; Gerry Ryan, Ashley Grimes and Johnny Fullam one. Their manager is Seán Thomas, who led Bohs from 1964-73, apart from a brief spell with Boston Shamrocks. In June 1973, between the reigns of Liam Tuohy and John Giles, Seán also managed Ireland to a 1-1 draw in Norway. Their trainer is Mick Byrne, who went on to be physio for the Irish team under several managers. Arguably, he could claim to be an Irish manager himself, as Jack Charlton says that Mick picked the team for Jack’s first game against Wales in ’86!

1974-1977 – De Bow-ez (clap-clap-clap)

Once I started watching Bohs I was quickly hooked, not only on the football and the atmosphere (‘De Bow-ez, clap-clap-clap; De Bow-ez, clap-clap-clap!’) but also on the elusive concept of the Perfect Weekend, in which Leeds won on the Saturday and Bohs won on the Sunday. That would set me up for an idyllic week, in which it did not matter how many times we were slapped by Christian Brothers with leather straps known as Excalibur. And, while I could not have known it at the time, 1974 was the perfect time to start following Bohs. Below the radar of my early childhood support for Leeds, Brazil and Ireland, my new local heroes had steadily transformed themselves from an amateur club that had last won the league in 1936, to a part-time professional club that had won the cup in 1970 and had finished the next four league seasons in fourth, third, third and second.

Wed Oct 2, 1974 – Bohs 0 Hamburg 1

This where I should employ artistic license, and describe how momentous an experience my first Bohs match was. The raw passion of the crowd, the taste of the half-time Bovril, the thump of boot on leather, the smell of the freshly-cut grass, my first view of the hallowed pitch as I walked up the steps onto the Phibsboro end corner of the Connacht Street terrace. But the truth is, I don’t remember much about the game, other than it was raining and Hamburg scored a last-minute winner to knock Bohs out of the UEFA Cup. Why did I go? A mixture of reasons. I had got a taste for live football from watching two Ireland matches. Leeds were playing the same night in the European Cup, and I obviously couldn’t go to that, but I hoped I could get the same buzz by watching Bohs. And I did. It didn’t matter that it was raining, or that the crowd was much smaller than at Ireland matches, or even that Bohs lost. I returned the following Sunday for the first league game of the season, and saw Turly O’Connor intercepting a back-pass to score the winning goal against Saint Pats. That was enough to immediately propel Turly alongside Johnny Giles in my pantheon of childhood heroes.

Germany 1974 – Total Football

I faced a major dilemma as I turned thirteen: should I support Brazil or Holland in the 1974 World Cup? Brazil were, well, Brazil: my heroes for the past four years, and still footballing magic in action. But Holland had Johann Neeskins and the new ‘world’s best player’, Johan Cruyff. Their ‘total football’ was a flowing experience where every player could play in any position. Plus, I really liked ‘Eye Level’, the theme tune of Dutch TV detective Van Der Valk. So, should I support Brazil or Holland? In retrospect, the answer was obvious. Naturally I chose Scotland, because they had five Leeds players (Harvey, McQueen, Bremner, Lorimer, Jordan) in their squad. The Scots went home on goal difference, West Germany beat Holland in the final, and Poland finished third in the world, less than a year after I had seen Ireland beat them in my second ever live football match.

Sun Oct 21, 1973 – Ireland 1 Poland 0

I started secondary school in Autumn 1973. For the next five seasons, I went to school in Whitehall, dodged leather straps, and played football; read Shoot!, Roy of the Rovers (who had left Tiger to front his own comic), and played football; conquered countries in Risk and Campaign, escaped from Colditz, and played football; watched Monty Python, Fawlty Towers, Reggie Perrin and the Good Life, and played football; listened to Abba, Blondie, The Jam and the Boomtown Rats, and played football. On the wider socio-cultural debates of the mid to late seventies, I held the following policy positions: Tiswas not Swapshop, denim not tartan, Happy Days not the Waltons, slime not pet rocks, Tom Baker not Jon Pertwee, Chunky Yorkies not Caramel bars, Barry Sheene not Evel Knievel, Columbo not Kojak, Starsky not Hutch, punk not disco, and Abigail’s Party not Bouquet of Barbed Wire. But again, mostly, I played football.

Tues July 3, 1973 – All-Ireland Team 3 Brazil 4

I was twelve, and had just finished primary school, when I saw my first live football match. Brazil (yes, that Brazil!) came to Dublin to play a Shamrock Rovers All-Ireland team. Liam Tuohy, who had managed both Rovers and Ireland alongside his day-job at HB ice cream, now instead faced the cream of world football. Johnny Giles and Derek Dougan had organised the Irish players; six from the Republic and five from the North. The Brazilians brought half of their World Cup winning side. The historic line-up was Pat Jennings; David Craig, Paddy Mulligan, Allan Hunter, Tommy Carroll, Mick Martin, Johnny Giles, Martin O’Neill, Terry Conroy, Derek Dougan and Don Givens. The Brazilians included four of their 1970 World Cup winning side in Piazza, Clodoaldo, Rivelino and Jairzinho, and four more of that squad in Leao, Ze Maria, Marco Antonia and Paulo Cesar.

Sat May 6, 1972 – Leeds 1 Arsenal 0

For the next three seasons after the 1970 World Cup (we measured time in football seasons not calendar years), I went to primary school in Drumcondra, and played football; read Shoot!, Score and Roar, Scorcher and Score, Tiger and Scorcher, and played football; watched Doctor Who, Star Trek, the Goodies, Citizen Smith and Are You Being Served, and played football; listened to Slade, Sweet, T Rex, Suzi Quatro, David Essex and Gary Glitter, and played football. On the wider socio-cultural debates of the early seventies, I held the following policy positions: Bert not Ernie, Sugar Smacks not Shredded Wheat, Wacky Races not Pink Panther, Curly Wurlies and Fizzle Sticks, clackers not yo-yos, Banana Splits not Double Deckers, David Cassidy not Donny Osmond but Jimmy Osmond not Michael Jackson, Clint Eastwood and Bruce Lee, choppers not hoppers, Magpie not Blue Peter, flares not platforms, and the Virginian not Bonanza. But mostly, I played football.

Mexico 1970 – Just Like Watching Brazil

My support for the Ireland football team came after an early identity crisis. When I was eight, I supported England in the 1970 World Cup. It was the biggest event of my young life. My pestered dad bought enough petrol to fuel a convoy so I could collect Esso coins with the England squad’s faces on them. I also painstakingly filled my album of World Cup cards, and marvelled at a friend who could, at a glance, identify such exotic aliens as Enrique Borja of Mexico and Teofilio Cubillas of Peru. And we spent days playing ‘World Cup’ on the green outside our houses. This game, incidentally, bore no relation to the actual World Cup. There was one goalkeeper and any number of players shooting into the one goal. In every round, the last player to score was eliminated. I think it was called World Cup because we pretended that we were countries. Barry Howard always won, so we had to put him in goal if he wanted to play.

Sat Jan 10, 1970 – Chelsea 2 Leeds 5

I remember, as a child at school, discussing with a priest my choice of a new middle name for my Confirmation. ‘So, Michael, have you chosen your Confirmation name?’ ‘Yes, Father. It is John.’ ‘John. That’s good. Is that after Saint John the Baptist, or Saint John of God?’ ‘Neither, Father. Johnny Giles. (pause.) He plays for Leeds. (pause.) They’re a football team.’ On reflection, while Giles regularly performed football miracles, his canonisation would have been hindered by Leeds’ reputation for ‘letting their opponents know they were there’. But it was lucky that he had by then left Man United, or I might also have had to explain that my proposed saint played for the Red Devils.