THE facts answer

France, soccer, and the
little shake God gave us
The Soccer World Cup has started, and the Irish find ourselves in front of a dilemma: whom do we support? Whom we oppose, instead, is clear.

In Ireland, we have a dilemma concerning the World Cup: do we engage or switch off? If we watch, whom do we support?
The question of whom to oppose is easier. It would be unreasonable of either God or mankind to expect us not to pray that the French will be hammered at every opportunity. Even 1,000 years of Christianity has not opened our hearts to any other possibility. Not even St. Patrick could resist such a prayer.
This transcends soccer, though that’s where it started. Twenty-five years ago, an Englishman called Jack Charlton came and taught us how to win matches, or at least how to stop losing so many.
As a result, we almost got to the semi-finals of the World Cup. If that does not seem such a tremendous achievement, perhaps you clever ones should consider that, one day, the fortunes of your team might decline to the point where the best you can hope for is a “moral victory.” This is when the score spread against you shows a margin of less than three goals. For Ireland, all that ended when Charlton came.
Next thing we noticed, our economy improved. Even the weather became sunnier.
But then, Charlton left and it all started to unravel. The score spreads widened again and even the moral victories became less frequent. The economy went into a nosedive. The rain came down worse than before. Then we had an idea: to get an Italian to run the team. His name starts with a “T,” but is difficult to spell.
It was working fine until one night last November, when it seemed we might turn fortune around once more. We were holding our own in a World Cup qualifier against France and hope was again beckoning. But then… disaster. No, not disaster–tragedy. No, not tragedy–perfidion. A French player, whose name we no longer speak, handled the ball and brazenly guided it into the net. Everyone saw, except the referee.
Almost the worst thing is that nobody tried to say it wasn’t a handball. Even the French admitted the result was unfair. But still, they did not offer to replay the match or seek some other method of restoring their nation’s honor. This is why every Irishman now holds close to his heart a profound
sense of hurt that cries out to heaven for vengeance. This is why we cannot bear to think about the World Cup.
Some Irish people have been talking of going to Spain to watch the competition, and cheer on the Spanish in the hope that, eventually, they will punish the French.
But now, because of the Icelandic ash cloud, even this comfort may be denied us. Now it seems we may have to stay home and contemplate the limits of earthly justice.
Everywhere we turn the facts answer. And what the facts seem to say is that we must forget about finding fairness in this life. It seems God has decided that we must turn and face these facts and accept that Justice belongs to Him alone.