ExcellentQuote:
Behind the goal but in with the neutrals - Irish section was to our left (being part of the "diaspora" at the time we boiught our tickets in Germany).
Agree with Gary that this was the best day bar none. I was with my brother and two mates - we make a point of keeping in touch each June 12th and this is the email I sent to them yesterday:
June 12th 1988, Stuttgart, West Germany.
A lot of water under the bridge since then. Chelsea had just been relegated, West Germany was still West Germany and another country that no longer exists were about to go all the way to the final of Euro 88. Taoiseach Charlie Haughey watched it in the big gaff he then owned. At the game itself were Brian Lenihan (with original kidneys) and Bertie Ahern (happily married). FAI Security man was Joe Delaney (the Da) – no problems with the tickets then. Then it was emigration nowadays it is (or was) the Celtic Tiger. Then it was Gibraltar and Michael Stone with guns and grenades – nowadays it’s the Peace Process and Michael Stone with a grenade (but this time it was “performance art”).
Looking at some old press clippings – two things at random. The mayor of Stuttgart was Manfred Rommel (son of you know who). Back home many watched the game in shuttered pubs – Kick-off was 2:30 on a Sunday – slap bang in the middle of holy hour (but of course the Gardai “generally turned a blind eye”).
And our day? Don’t remember the coach trip there. I do remember the car park and going into the stadium and being in the neutral section with the Irish section to our left. I remember the heat. I think I remember the goal and the celebrations (we must have had a great view of it). I remember counting down (and shouting out) the minutes on the big clock. I remember chance after chance in front of us in the second half. I remember the added time and the last corner - by then even the Germans were rattling the fence screaming for the final whistle. I have no recollection of the final whistle or what we did then. I do recall us being on the coach again – the English in silence, us in silence (we were drained) and the Scots singing. I recall we ended up that night in a quiet pub (I guess it must have been in Darmstad) letting the enormity of what we had witnessed slowly sink in……
800 years of hurt. Rayser put the ball in the English net. Stuttgart 88 was our equivalent of the GPO 1916. It was 20 years ago today. And we were there.