Saturday sees Munster attempt to win the Fizzy Dutch Pilsner Cup for the second time in Cardiff. The whole Munster phenomenon – and whatever you think of it, it’s certainly phenomenal – is endlessly discussed among Irish sports fans, with even well-known sports fan Vincent Browne weighing in on the subject, kicking Waterford out of Munster in the process. I’m not the least bit offended by Vincent’s cavalier ejection of us from the province because a) he’s only saying it as he sees it; he feels no provincial affinity with Waterford, any more than a Wexford person might be able to bond with a Longford person, and b) who cares what Vincenzo thinks anyway.
It used to matter, this Munster lark. When Ronan O’Gara knocked over a last-kick-of-the-game conversion away to Saracens in the 2000 group stages – one that famously went over the top of the post – to secure the win, I remember noting it on Aertel with pleasure. Not long after, I watched the tension-soaked return fixture at Thomond Park on RTÉ, when Mark Mapletoft scored with a few minutes to go to leave Munster needing a converted try to secure victory. Keith Wood barrelled over to leave Munster one point behind. As it happened, that was enough to secure qualification but few people had done the maths and it seemed like the conversion was necessary. O’Gara duly obliged via the paint on the inside of the post. Cue much rejoicing in Limerick and my living room. The excitement levels went into orbit after a titanic win over the mighty Toulouse in Bordeaux, so when Munster came up short against Northampton in the final, it felt as bad as any Waterford or Liverpool defeat before or since.
If all this seems like an excruciating level of detail about Munster’s exploits in 2000, it reflects just how deep Munster got under my skin. Yet between then and now, the sense of belonging has gotten to the point where it is only skin deep. It was winning the trophy in 2006, the end of a long journey – and when you reach the end of a journey, what do you do other than stop? It was the migration of live rugby to Sky Sports, which might be a warning to those (myself included) who are open to the idea of taking the Dirty Digger’s shilling. It was the nauseating sense of entitlement that attached itself to following Munster, partially demonstrated by the referenced Vinny Brawn article in the Irish Times this week but given its best outing by a hilarious epistle in the Sunday Times the day of the 2006 semi-final against Leinster when some alickadoo from the Munster Supporters Club (or whatever it’s called) basically said the Heineken Cup (or whatever it’s called) was nothing without Munster. Supporters of teams like Toulouse who have a long and proud history well before the ERC ever came into being, have done well to avoid scoffing too loudly at such nouveau riche pretentiousness.
Whatever it was – and much as I’d like to pretend it was some high-minded scorn for bandwagon jumping, the absence of it from terrestrial television is probably the main reason – I’m only a casual Munster supporter these days. If they win on Saturday, great. If they don’t, attention will switch to Sunday week in the Gaelic Grounds without so much as a heartbeat being skipped, the only ‘Munster’ that truly matters.
Update: to see how much I bought into the Munster blarney back in the day, click here.
