THE END OF THE JINX
Supporting a League of Ireland team from afar is a frustrating experience at the best of times, with RTE.ie, ExtraTime and now Twitter the only ways to follow your team “live”. But when your occasional visits home to see your team in action in the flesh invariably coincide with defeat, you can end up questioning your sanity, skepticism and even support.
Switzerland-based Monaghan United-supporter Adrian Harte tells the tale of his two-year barren spell watching the Mons which earned him the appellation “The jinx” from fellow fans.
Through the final years of the Mick Cooke era and the early days of Roddy Collins’ tenure, United have enjoyed more highs than lows with cup runs, away wins over the likes of Cork City, Derry City and Shelbourne, defeats of Dundalk, and cup final debuts all featuring.
That makes it all the more bizarre that in a two-year period in which United won over 50% of their matches, I managed to endure an eight-match run during which every time I watched United in the flesh they lost.
Matches 1 and 2
Spookily, the jinx — as your unfortunate scribe subsequently became bemonikered — started and ended on Good Fridays two years apart. The first match of the benighted spell was at Gortakeegan on 10 April 2009, a lifetime ago in League of Ireland terms. So long ago, in fact, that the team that defeated United on that occasion, Sporting Fingal, have now ceased to exist. That Easter trip home was a double-whammy as Fingal first triumphed 3–0 on the league match on Friday, and United – in grim defiance of religious allegory – were buried again on Easter Monday as they went down 2–1 to the same opposition.
Match 3
Thus were the seeds of the jinx sown. Match number 3 followed five months later in September 2009. The omens could hardly have been better for United as they prepared to host Shelbourne. They had gone undefeated in the previous six matches and had not lost at Gortakeegan since June. Enter The Jinx — the non-footballing reasons for my trip to Ireland now forgotten — and United again slumped to a 3–0 defeat, conceding all three goals in the first half.
Match 4
After cursing United twice in the league and once in the EA Sports Cup, I decided to try my (bad) luck with the FAI Cup, travelling to Richmond Park, Inchicore three days after the Shelbourne reverse to take in the Cup fourth-round replay against St Patrick’s Athletic. I’m tempted to actually consider this one the end of the jinx as United were at 0–0 at the end of regulation time, but defeat four out of four duly arrived when the home side scored after 105 minutes through Bobby Ryan.
Match 5
Thankfully, that was my last United match of 2009 — a fact that no doubt contributed to their run of six straight wins to finish the season. But, like a persistent magpie, I flew back to Ireland and another ill-fated visit to Gortakeegan on 19 March 2010 — match number 5. Again, the omens could not have been better for United ahead of the visit of Finn Harps, as they went into the game on the back of an 11-match unbeaten run in all competitions. They had also not lost at Gortakeegan in a competitive match since that Shelbourne match (match number 3) six months previously.
Enter the Jinx. Matthew Crossan fired home a free-kick for Harps after just four minutes and United managed to miss a penalty through Philly Hughes and have Conor McMahon sent off to end up on the losing side despite dominating possession. To put that penalty miss in context, United — unencumbered by the presence of The Jinx — went on to score 12 penalties in the league in the rest of the season.
Match 6
From Magpie to Stag a few months later, as I decided to best way to celebrate the impending end of my bachelorhood would be to kick- off a stag weekend by cursing United yet again, as they took on Shelbourne in a potential promotion six-pointer at Tolka Park. Match number 6 had a slightly surreal twist as — as part of my stag celebrations — I was spirited to the away dressing room, presented with a United away kit (the fluorescent yellow does wonders for the beer-addled brain), and paraded on the pitch prior to the match. I doubt that had I stayed on the pitch and actually played, it would have done more damage to the United cause than my mere presence.
In fact, I had not even changed out of the United colours when I was joined in the dressing room by midfielder Sean Brennan, sent off in the first minute as the Jinx struck early. Ultimately, United went down 2–1 as their run of 13 — yes, 13 — away matches without defeat that season and 17 away matches in total over the previous 11 months came to an agonising end.
Match 7
By this stage, my Jonah-like status was well known at the club. So much so that when Monaghan United advanced to the EA Sports Cup final in September last year, I actually phoned up then manager Mick Cooke to enquire if he would have any objection to me going to the game against Sligo Rovers at the Showgrounds on 25 September.
One of life’s true romantics, I included a trip to the final as part of my honeymoon itinerary, gaining the reluctant acquiescence of my new wife by promising her — truthfully — that the drive from Clifden to Sligo was the most picturesque in Ireland. Unfortunately, she only got to see the amazing vistas as they whizzed past at speed. Around 4pm, I realised the match was due to kick off at 5.30pm, and not 8pm as I’d thought. I did make it in the nick of time — the nick of time to fully feck up United’s chances once again — with Matthew Blinkhorn scoring the game’s only goal just as I belatedly entered the ground.
Match 8
Seven down, one to go. And it is the biggest of them all. Despite my uncanny ability to put the kibosh on things, I decided at short notice to travel to Bray to hopefully see Monaghan gain promotion to the top flight in November 2010.
I’d justified it to myself by reasoning that I wouldn’t actually go to the match, but watch from a nearly hostelry and join in the celebrations afterwards. So, I joined the large United contingent travelling down and decamped to the Royal Hotel for some pre-match beverages. I made known my plans to stay and follow the match remotely at the bar, and — in a manner that made it known subtly that my personal safety might be at stake should I do anything else — none of my fellow fans sought to dissuade me.
So there I sat,,and, thanks to the wonders of modern technology, I was able to follow every kick of a match happening 500 metres away from me through extratime.ie, rte.ie and the Northern Sound iPhone app. Through 90 minutes I sat, and I even felt guilty for my comfort in the bar snug as my kindred supporters sought refuge from the Arctic weather after 45 and 90 minutes. But there I sat. And sat…
And jumped. And leaped. As United took the lead after 119 minutes, I started to celebrate. And then thought, “The ground is three minutes’ walk away, I’ll leave now and get there after the final whistle for the celebrations.” So I upped and left, purposefully heading into the wind and rain and passing downcast Bray fans leaving on my way. Five minutes later, I ducked into the Carlisle Grounds and looked up to see a ball in the air. How was the match still on? Seconds later, I took a spot behind the Bray goal, looked up and there was the ball in the United net. What the hell was going on?
As I gathered the information that a wall collapse after United’s goal had caused a five-minute delay, I felt sick to my stomach. I could actually feel myself turning green to match the Bray shirts. I turned on my heels and set back for the sanctuary of the pub. But the damage had been done. I’d spent five seconds in the ground during a 120-minute match… — and in that five seconds United had promotion stolen from their grasp.
Back in the pub I listened to United’s penalty shootout defeat with the resignation of a condemned man. Back on the bus home, I kept my five seconds of treachery to myself. And I’ve kept schtum until now.
The jinx finally ended on Good Friday 2011 as United defeated Wexford Youths 2–1. And midway through the second half, as the visitors pulled a goal back to set up a tense finish, I heard the damning Jinx epithet directed at me for the last time. Twenty-two minutes later and several months too late, the jinx was dead.
