Just checking in for Friend Makin' Monday and to pass on that I have been pain-free in my back for about three days. I haven't even had the occasional soreness-in-that-area which makes me super excited! Dance is back on the agenda for 2012!! With Christmas going ons and what-not, I don't have too much to share. I've been pretty good this holiday season save for Saturday night when my free pouring host kept refilling my glass while I was too busy chatting to notice. I swear I wasn't sticking my wine glass out in front of him on purpose.
If you're new to Friend Makin' Monday, you can find the guidelines here.
FMM: Have you ever?
1. …traveled outside of your home country?If so, where? USA, Mexico, Ireland (lived there), UK (all four countries), France, Belgium, Netherlands, Germany (lived there), Switzerland (lived there), Austria, Italy, Cuba, Tanzania (lived there)
2. …performed on stage in front of at least 1,000 people?If so, share some details! Not for over than many people, no. But I do love being on stage.
3. …watched an episode of Jersey Shore? Yes
4. …baked a cake from scratch? If so, what’s your specialty? I prefer baking cakes from scratch, but my specialty is actually pies, not cakes. I've never not had pie crust turn out perfectly, even when I was 14 and didn't have everything so I improvised with whole wheat flour and a metal baking tin. It wasn't until I was older and tasted some less-than-stellar homemade pie crusts that I realised how lucky I am that that was the baking super power I inherited from my mom.
5. …worked in a grocery store? No.
6. …dated someone who was your best friend first? Best friend no, but a few of them were friends first. 7. …made a difference in someone’s life during Christmas? I volunteered at the Food Bank a few times growing up and I adopted a family with two co-workers one year.
8. …been on TV? Yes. It's an episode of COPS my mom won't ever forget ;) Kidding! But I have been on TV.
9. …had cosmetic surgery? No.
10. …learned a second language? If so, what else do you speak? I used to have decent travel French and Spanish and I'm working on getting them back. I achieved fairly high levels of fluency in German and Swahili when I lived in Germany and Tanzania respectively. When I put my mind to it, I can pick up languages fairly quickly. It's the keeping them up so I maintain that level that causes me problems.
Remember when I said "let's run a marathon in Donegal in 2013"? Yeah, I don't either but apparently I did. I think I was too busy listening to Ciaran McMenamin's sexy, sexy voice to pay attention to what I was typing. (That man needs to start doing books on tape STAT! It's probably the only way I'd ever make it past the first four chapters of Twilight.) I also mentioned it to a few people in real life, partially in jest and partially in "wouldn't that be fun" until three of them (serious runner types) challenged me back to make it happen. And could I plan a tour of Ireland while I'm at it?
With three actual runners interested in attending the race and two friends who just want to come along to cheer* (and drink in the pubs tour the island), I've started looking into what it would take to make this a possibility. While I know that September 2013 is a looooong way off, getting people thinking about it now (and possibly saving) will hopefully make it easier to get people to commit to it when the time comes. (If the time comes, there are still no guarantees at this time.)
For the reason why I picked Donegal of all the places in Ireland to do a marathon, it's all about the beautiful pub countryside and people. Plus the run looks like a fun, low-key event with hilarious race rules. Also, the eyes of the cow medal light up. They had me at "[a]nyone consistently getting in the way of cows behind them will be be beaten!" and now they've got a light up participation medal? My heart just skipped a beat!
If this does go ahead, please understand that non-runners will also be welcome. My hope is that we can find a nice balance between a small-ish group but making it large enough to be able to work out some travel deals so I'll probably aim for 12 people. Again, this is just to get you guys thinking about it.
As for my current state: back is getting better but it's still slow going. Legs are still very smooth considering what they were like after three weeks of no shaving. I have decided to rewatch all the extended Lord of the Rings** movies because I'm a giant dork and the nights are getting dark so early. This is after I finished watching the entire Underworld trilogy (even the crappy 2nd one which I only watch because Scott Speedman - who can't act, let's be honest - runs around shirtless for most of it). Sadly, that pretty much has you up to date on my life right now!
*and this isn't counting people who've expressed interest but not an actual commitment to coming.
**that's right, extended. I'm a hard-core nerd, yo!
Random One: About two years ago, I entered my first blog giveaway (on the now defunct Get Fit Chicks). Amazingly, I won. Amazingly because a) it was the first time I ever entered a blog give away and b) I never win anything. A few days later, I received The Ultimate Workout Log in the mail. It looked pretty awesome. I put it to the side with the idea of starting it when I started my running program.
It just ended up collecting dust.
A few months later, I dusted it off and thought that I should really start using it. You know, I'll just wait until after my birthday when I can give it a good start.
More dust.
I've taken it out and dusted it off again. This time, no waiting until I'm ready to start or I have a program in place, I'm using it right away... starting Monday. It's divided into days of the week and I hate starting things in the middle. Plus, it gives me a chance to figure out how I'm going to go about sharing it on here. See, I'm doing all this for you guys ;)
Random Two: In an attempt to pretend I haven't left Ireland, I've been rewatching season four of Primeval on Space so I can listen to the rough 'good morning sunshine' sounds of Ciarán McMeanamin's voice. It was hearing his voice while watching season four last March that started me on my 'I have to go back to Ireland' kick.
I want this man to read me bedtime stories.
Random Three: I obviously need to check out my blogger stats more often. Four of the top seven google searches which have brought people to this site have some thing to do with the Italian football (soccer) team. I don't even LIKE the Italian soccer team. I made fun of them in that post.
Random Four: In searching for races in Ireland that I might want to be a part of I came across the Mooathon in Co. Donegal. Not only can you be kicked out because you wear something other than white and black but they encourage you to wear cow bells, cow horns, and any other cow-esque items you can find. Also, it ends at a beach... in Co. Donegal! It's quite possibly the greatest race possibility I've ever come across. I know that the 2012 race is too soon for me (both fitness and money-wise), but anyone interested in joining me for 2013? You get to dress up like a cow and run a marathon!
As so often happens after travel, I got horribly, horribly sick upon returning home. Oh recycled plane air, how I hate you! Pity me, people. I went on an awesome trip, came home and got sick ;)
I gave myself a bit of a free pass while I was in Ireland. While I didn't go crazy and eat an Ulster Fry for every breakfast, I did have one twice. (Black pudding, white pudding, fried everything? Hells ya!) I might not have had a pint every night of the week, but I did let the two best bartenders in the country serve me multiple pints on multiple nights.
Why do I say this? Because somewhere in my three weeks of enjoying traditional Irish food and debating exactly which bar serves the best Guinness, I actually lost weight. Obviously, I need to travel more often! I'm putting it down to the incredible amount of walking that I did during my time there.
I may have also gotten inspired while I was in Ireland and looked up half- and full marathons in various locations around the island. Of course, the inspiration may have been more about looking for another excuse to visit parts of Ireland in which I don't have family. Say, the beautiful County Donegal, for example.
I'm feeling better so getting back into the swing of regular workouts is goal number one for the upcoming week. In the meantime, the first few days of travel are recapped here and here.
Today is my one week countdown to my departure. Along with being super excited, I'm looking at a 'to-do' list which seems to grow every time I turn around. If I didn't know better, I'd think my cats are adding items to it when I'm not looking. But that's ridiculous because they don't have opposable thumbs; they can't hold a pen!
Just because she steals my place in bed doesn't mean she'd write on my 'to do' list, right?
Of course, sitting in a coffee shop so I can update my blog doesn't really help with getting things crossed off the list but it's all part of today's plan. No, seriously. The coffee shop is on the way to Michael's craft store which is on they way to my dad's. Part of the plan.
I will pop in again tomorrow for Friend Makin' Monday but that will probably be it for posts until I'm home. Still, I'll be around and creeping on other people's blogs because without them I have no social life I like to keep up with everyone else.
Just admit we're your only friends so we can go back to ignoring you.
If I do post at all while I'm away, it will be over here but don't hold your breath as I'm hoping I can just disappear from the online world for the three weeks I'm away. So I guess this is just a pre-emptive 'thanks for sticking around'.
I purposely post to say I won't be posting much but of course I have to post for Friend Makin' Monday! So if I say I'm going to post tomorrow, it usually takes me about a week to do it. If I say I won't be posting, I do it in less than 24hours. Well played, self. Well played.
Anyway, if you're new to Friend Makin' Monday, you can find the guidelines here. If you're old hat at this, let's do this!
FMM: All About Me
1. What are your talents? I'm musically inclined (I play multiple instruments, dance, and thrive on musical theatre) and I have yet to meet a craft project I haven't enjoyed.
2. What is your best habit? Oh, good question. I honestly don't know. I'll have to think about this one... and never get back to you on it. [EDIT: I look for the positive in everything. I read this poem often and try to live by it. I have seen enough bad in this world that I do not want to add to it.]
3. If you had to be stuck with someone in an elevator for 8 hours, who would you want it to be? I've been working on a piece about Irish history recently so right now I'd want to be stuck in an elevator with John Hume. Ask again next week, my answer will change. There's so many interesting people in the world, it's hard to pick just one.
4. Share one odd fact about you that we’d never know to ask. You mean beside my fear of scarecrows on TV? Alright, I cut my pinky open on a meat slicer. I have a scar and a slight lack of feeling in that pinky.
5. What’s your latest project (work, home, whatever you care to share?) I have a couple of craft projects on the go. Namely, I have a rash of friends having babies and those blankets won't crochet themselves!
6. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be? I have a couple of scars that I wouldn't mind seeing gone.
7. What do you do in your spare time? Read, craft, write, dance, daydream
8. What is your biggest pet peeve? When people lack respect for other people. I know that not everyone is going to like everyone, but that doesn't mean you can't treat them with decency and respect.
9. Why do you blog? I don't know. I enjoy writing and I enjoy being the centre of attention. Blogging just seemed like a natural move :)
10. Are you tidy or messy? I tend to be a mix of the two but I'm trying to work on being more consistent with the tidy.
11. What’s the last song that played on your iPod? Whiskey in the Jar (Trad. Irish song, this recording by Jimmy Sweeney). I'm just trying to get in the right mood for my trip!
12. Do you cook? If so, what’s for dinner tonight? I do cook, however, tonight I have plans to get together with my travel partner so there will be no cooking.
13. Do you like sports? If so, list your teams. Love sports! Favourite teams of favourite sports listed below but I also occasionally catch up on tennis, hurling, and cricket results. Hockey: Vancouver Canucks, HC Davos, Belfast Giants Soccer (or realfootball): SC Freiburg, Vancouver Whitecaps, Bolton Wanderers, Bern Youngboys Rugby: Ireland National Team, Wales National Team
14. How often do you read and/or watch the news? Every day. I was about 12 before I realised the radio has more stations than just CBC so I'm a bit of a news junky.
15. Did you stick to your new Year’s resolution this year? If so, elaborate. Instead of resolutions, I set goals. I'm on target to hit some of them.
16. What are you looking forward to most in the remainder of 2011? I leave for Ireland in less than two weeks. I have a week there by myself to visit with my family and then my friend Al is joining me and we're going off to be tourists. This will be the first time I'll be a true tourist in Ireland and I'm beyond excited.
17. Shoes, sunglasses or handbags? Shoes. I tend to lose sunglasses and I hate having to switch everything between handbags.
18. How do you feel about sleeping on satin sheets? No me gusta. You can't curl up in satin sheets. I'm a cotton sheet girl all the way.
19. Do you sing in the shower? Surprisingly, given my willingness to sing everywhere else, I don't sing in the shower. I also try to keep my showers to 5 minutes so that doesn't leave much time for singing.
September arrived and so did Victoria's fall weather. Don't get me wrong, the days are still gloriously sunny and hot. But the evenings are cooling off and my jackets have been pulled from the dark cobwebbed corner of my closet.
My apologies to any arachnophobes who may be reading this.
Okay, there weren't really cobwebs but I hadn't been back there for a while.
It's that awkward time of year when you either suffer through being cold in the morning, or you wear a jacket only to have to carry it around after 9:00am. For the record, I suffer through being chilly. I have an aversion to carrying jackets when I don't have to (like putting up with being a tad cold for my 20 minute walk into work so the rest of the day is gloriously jacket-free).
Of course, I'm not really that sad about the arrival of fall for two reasons.
The instructors getting down during our Pub Night at last year's Denbaya*.
I still have a week to go before classes actually start (in fact, I have exactly one week) but I've been running through the dances I do know in anticipation for the first class. And do I ever plan to 'bring it' to that class. I'll show those newbies how to move their T&A! *snap*
I was feeling like a bit of an impostor in the beginners class by mid-way through last year. Not only was I decidedly not a beginner after a year of classes, but I also come from a dance background which many of the other students don't. In a strange-backwards move, I started hiding at the sides of the classes and stop helping other students when they were confused about moves. I had a fear of becoming 'that girl', the know-it-all who thought she could teach the class.
But then three different newbies I've run into over the summer (it's Victoria, running into people is what we do) expressed how appreciative they were to have me and the other not-really-a-beginner in the class because a) they couldn't always see our teacher and they knew that standing near either of us meant they'd have someone else to watch and b) we've gotten over that new-student fear so we hoot and holler during cross floor and performances like the Guineans do and it always makes everyone feel good to hear people positively yell while they dance.
So I'm looking forward to my Wednesday night classes with a renewed excitement that was missing last May when I opted not to do the summer session.
*Denbaya means 'family' in Susu, the language of the coastal people of Guinea. It's also the name MoonDance gave to their weekend 'mini-Guinea' they host every two years-ish. It's a long weekend of drum and dance lessons with various Guinean teachers. In short: it's a lot of fun!
Once I finally came back from the I'm not 20 and can't drink like that anymore ledge, I had a good week. Conflicting work schedules have left me running on my own but it hasn't slowed me down. I think that's always my biggest fear when I'm responsible to myself... Myself can be pretty f*&#ing lazy.
I was hoping to work in some swimming this week but after being called into the office pretty much all week, I haven't been able to get out to the lake. It's a catch-22: work = money to play but not the time to play.
*sigh*
I think we can all agree that sometimes being a grown up sucks. Still, there's a few more weeks of outdoor swimming weather left. I know I'll make it out there for a relaxing dip!
I've been trying to incorporate more yoga into my routine mostly to help with flexibility. While I wasn't working, it was easy to wake up at 7:30, do a 30 minute session, and still have my day started by 9:00am. When I have to leave the house at 7:20 to get to the office on time, it's a bit more difficult. As a result, I've only had one session this week. I've only been doing it for three weeks but the lack of it on my third week is already making me a sad panda.
In amongst all the working and running and yoga-ing (totally going to call that a word), I've been enjoying my summer. My stepdad's family is visiting from New York. They're originally from Northern Ireland so we enjoyed a wonderful evening of talking about the GAA, Armagh vs. Tyrone, and how we're all distantly related to each other (short story: my uncle's wife's mother is their father's cousin. Did you follow that?)
Apparently Armagh/Monaghan family trees look something like this.
This weekend, I'm heading up to Nanaimo for more family socializing. I debated bringing my running gear for all of five minutes before deciding against it. My stepmom lives in a very hilly area so my runs always turn into walks. I'll just plan on a longer walk, followed by a cuppa and a round of rummy.
My stepmom and I take our rummy games very, very seriously. There's a good chance at least one of our games will end in blood and gloating.
How dare you go out while I have two aces in my hand!
All in all, the summer has shaped up to be pretty awesome.
For the past two months I've been getting cravings for McDonald's. I've never been a big MickyD's eater so it was really not big deal to stop eating it altogether almost five years ago. Since then I've had it once (because it was that or a 15euro eggs, toast, and bacon at Schiphol Airport at 8:00am). I've occasionally lamented the lack of their no-nutritional-value-probably-laced-with-cocaine fries but then I cut up a potato to make oven fries and I'm just as happy.
Plus, if I eat at McD's too often, Mac tells me I'll remain a fat chicken forever.
This most recent craving, however, kept coming back. About once a week I'd find myself saying "but you'll like the dinner I made for you once you eat it" and like a resigned child, my craving would huff off into a corner until it was ready for the next round. Last night, I finally caved.
That's pretty much how I ate the fries.
I walked to the Raunchy Ronnie's closest to my apartment and ordered a meal. I sat down to eat it, realizing that the burger was so dripping with fat/oil/teenagelinecooksnot/grease that my fingers almost became translucent. Ugh. But I had ordered it and, I have to admit, it tasted good going down. It wasn't the most satisfying meal but it shut up my craving so I'll take it.
Actually, I think my burger had even more grease.
About 20 minutes after I got home my stomach felt awful. I still pretty much felt like ass this morning. Thank you, Golden Armpits, for reminding me why I was never really that big of a fan in the first place. And now I have a blog post for the next time I have a craving and the passage of time leads me to think how bad could one meal there be?
NOTE TO SELF: DON'T EAT THE MCD'S OR YOU WILL FEEL LIKE THIS!
Note to readers: Guess who suddenly realised she can make
her own screen caps when she watches movies on her laptop?
Over on Healthy Tipping Point today, Caitlin asked another round of 10 personal questions. The last question was about your three happiest moments. One of my moments was when Ireland beat Romania in 1990. The funny thing is that I almost didn't include it as a memory because I didn't think a sporting memory from when I was 10 should really be one of my happiest moments. But you know what? It is.
I wrote about the game on its 20th anniversary but I know I've picked up a few new readers since then so while you can find the full post here, I'm reposting a shortened version of it on here. I will fully admit that just reading the post again made me cry.
Italia '90 is the first World Cup I really remember watching. I have vague memories of a World Cup party prior to that, but I couldn't tell you who was playing or what the score was. Italia '90 was so burned in my memory partly because I was 10 and finally able to actually follow sports and partly because it was Ireland's first time at the World Cup. As I have mentioned before, my dad is an Irish immigrant. As much as I love Canada, when it comes to soccer (and rugby), Ireland is my team. Italia '90 made sure of that.
...Ireland made it past the Round Robin stage. They were slated to play against Romania, at that time a dominant force in the soccer world (not so much now) and the general agreement was that 'the boys in green' had had a good run but it would be coming to an end.
My dad had invited a few friends around to watch and to follow it up with a BBQ.[...] It was a tense game, Romania attacking aggressively and Ireland building a defensive wall which rivaled the Berlin wall. Despite Romania's best efforts, not a single shot made it into the net and the teams were forced into extra time. [...] After extra time did nothing to change the result, a penalty shoot-out was inevitable.
Romania was up first. [...] The players would walk from the centre circle were they had to stay between kicks, place the ball where they wanted, and then score. [...] The score stood at 4-4 as Packie Bonner, Ireland's goalie, took his place on the goal line. He dropped his head and said a prayer (I know because he crossed himself when he was done) as Daniel Timofte strode up to the ball and got ready.
... Packie guessed right on that last ball and he stopped it. My dad let out a loud yelp of joy as he jumped out of his seat. I remember being on my knees, not fully believing what I was seeing. I was waiting for the referee to call back the penalty shot for some unknown reason, to give Daniel Timofte another crack at it. Thankfully, my imagined doom was just that, imagined.
As David O'Leary walked up the field towards the goal, I got to my feet never once taking my eyes off the screen. This was it. This was our moment. [...] He ran on the ball and kicked it straight into the back of the net. A cheer erupted from our living room, and in the moment of celebration, my dad took his full glass of red wine and threw it at our freshly-painted white wall. There was jumping, screaming, hugging, singing, dancing, yelling, laughing, and a couple of toasts. Ireland had done the impossible. They were going to the quarter-finals.
[...]
June 25, 1990 was the day I became a soccer fan. I had played soccer and I enjoyed soccer, but I had never loved soccer like I did that day and have since. I watched Ireland lose the next game to the host team, Italy. I watched in USA '94 as Ireland lost to Holland in the Round of 16 and as Roberto Baggio (Italy) placed a penalty kick so high above the cross bar I wondered if he needed glasses. I watched the final of France '98 while having lunch with my mom when France beat Brazil. Ireland had failed to qualify so I was cheering for the host country (this, of course, was prior to the Handball Henry debacle which will now ensure I hate France for the rest of my natural life). I watched Manchester United win the Treble on the world's tiniest TV while befriending the front door staff at a hostel in Paris. I watched Thun almost hold Arsenal to a tie in a pub in Thun. I hosted a pancake breakfast for the final game of Germany '06 and felt my jaw drop as Zinedine Zidane did the unthinkable to Marco Materazzi. All these memories in my life, all these important moments, tied into the beautiful game all because Ireland beat Romania in penalty kicks. What would have happened if they had lost?
[...]
I have come to believe that there will never be a sport moment in my life as sweet as Ireland's win over Romania. Soccer, hockey, rugby, there will be no game, no matter how important, that will stay with me the way that game did. Twenty years later, I watch a video about it and I tear up with pride at that moment. I talk about Italia '90 the way older Canadians talk about the '72 series. I reference that game like it was somehow pinnacle to the entire game of soccer and not just the island nation of Ireland. My children will know how important that game was, and likely my grandchild will too, because it really was that important.
In case you missed my big announcement over on the other blog I'm going to Ireland* for three weeks in a little under two months. This is the first time I've been 'home' in 10 years. Prior to that, my visits averaged out to every three years (and usually about six weeks long) so to say I'm excited is an understatement. I'm euphoric at the thought of seeing my aunts, uncles, cousins and cousin's children.
For the first time ever in my travels, I want to make a concerted effort to remain active. I've researched a few gyms with drop in options near locations I know I'll be staying but I'm not really a gym person. What I really want to do is run at least five times while I'm gone (ideally more than that, but that's my minimum). Keeping that in mind, I hit up MapmyRun and plotted out a couple of 5K routes from the houses I'll be staying at. This way I'll have no excuse not to run while I'm there other than "I'm lazy". Well, and maybe "I'm hungover".
I purposely cut off my starting location so you can't stalk me in (Greater) Dublin ;)
PS. So Irish people don't laugh at you, Dun Laoghaire is pronounced 'Dun Leary'.
These plans are all fine and dandy but it brings me to another issue: I'm travelling, moving fairly often, and I don't want to have to do laundry every other day but I also don't want to bring five (or more) different shirts just for running. That's a lot of space in my bag (which is already being taken up by my dad). Also, all those stinky shirts will just make everything else stinky. My big question is: does anyone have any tips for handling workout clothes while travelling?
In the meantime, I'm off to enjoy the summer weather we've finally received and make the most of my August Long Weekend. I hope you all have a wonderful weekend whatever you get up to.
*For clarification, when I say 'Ireland' I am referring to the island and not the country despite the fact that I often say 'country' for ease of understanding by those I am talking to. My 'Ireland' is the north and south. This is not a political statement, it is merely a lazy person's way of saying 'the Republic and the North' when she has family on both sides of the border and always goes to both.
I don't usually post just so I can crosspost from my other blog but I just wrote about something over there that I'm excited about and wanted to share.
Head's up: This post has absolutely nothing to do with anything health related. I am taking a stroll down memory lane and I invite you to join me if you want. Also, it's really just a stream of consciousness. You have been warned!
Twenty years ago, my life, and the life of Irish people the world over, changed forever. Today, twenty years ago, was the day that Ireland beat Romania 5-4 in penalty kicks in Italia '90. It was the day that all of Ireland stopped, waited with baited breath, and roared in unison at the end. I may have been 8 time zones away, but you better believe I roared too.
Italia '90 is the first World Cup I really remember watching. I have vague memories of a World Cup party prior to that, but I couldn't tell you who was playing or what the score was. Italia '90 was so burned in my memory partly because I was 10 and finally able to actually follow sports and partly because it was Ireland's first time at the World Cup. As I have mentioned before, my dad is an Irish immigrant. As much as I love Canada, when it comes to soccer (and rugby), Ireland is my team. Italia '90 made sure of that.
The years leading up to Ireland finally appearing in the World Cup were filled with highs (beating England in Euro '88... another game I remember with fond memories) and lows (the squabbles in the media between Eamon Dunphy, former player and Jackie Charlton, coach) but all that was forgotten when Ireland made it past the Round Robin stage. They were slated to play against Romania, at that time a dominant force in the soccer world (not so much now) and the general agreement was that 'the boys in green' had had a good run but it would be coming to an end. Still, it didn't stop everyone I know with the smallest sliver of Irish blood in them from crowding around their TV set in the hope that a miracle would happen.
My dad had invited a few friends around to watch and to follow it up with a BBQ. I can't remember exactly who was there, but I do remember there weren't enough seats and so I spent the entire game trying to get comfortable on the floor. It was a tense game, Romania attacking aggressively and Ireland building a defensive wall which rivaled the Berlin wall. Despite Romania's best efforts, not a single shot made it into the net and the teams were forced into extra time. You could see the frustration in the faces of the Romanian players. As much as I love Ireland, I remember Romania being the better team that day and deserving to win, but 'better team' doesn't always mean much when it comes to the final score. After extra time did nothing to change the result, a penalty shoot-out was inevitable.
I have never in my life heard my dad so quiet. Ever. Even when he sleeps he snores loud enough to wake the whole house, but he was silent during those penalty kicks. Romania was up first and they netted an easy one. Then Ireland, then Romania. Back and forth it went for the first four goals. The players would walk from the centre circle were they had to stay between kicks, place the ball where they wanted, and then score. Each time, the stadium erupted with cheers from that team's section. The score stood at 4-4 as Packie Bonner, Ireland's goalie, took his place on the goal line. He dropped his head and said a prayer (I know because he crossed himself when he was done) as Daniel Timofte strode up to the ball and got ready.
The problem with penalty kicks is that the goalie can not move until the player has made contact with the ball. In all honesty, a goalie will have already chosen which side they're going to dive to before the player has even touched the ball. You have a 50-50 chance of being right, and if you wait until the player has touched the ball, you have a 100% chance of being too late to stop the ball. Odds are better if you guess at a side and just go with it. Well, Packie guessed right on that last ball and he stopped it. My dad let out a loud yelp of joy as he jumped out of his seat. I remember being on my knees, not fully believing what I was seeing. I was waiting for the referee to call back the penalty shot for some unknown reason, to give Daniel Timofte another crack at it. Thankfully, my imagined doom was just that, imagined.
As David O'Leary walked up the field towards the goal, I got to my feet never once taking my eyes off the screen. This was it. This was our moment. Ireland would either do this, or we would all die of heart attacks before this game was over. I remember that O'Leary seemed to take forever to get the ball just right. I hated him for it in that moment, for prolonging my agony, but later I would think him the wisest man to have ever taken a penalty kicked. He ran on the ball and kicked it straight into the back of the net. A cheer erupted from our living room, and in the moment of celebration, my dad took his full glass of red wine and threw it at our freshly-painted white wall. There was jumping, screaming, hugging, singing, dancing, yelling, laughing, and a couple of toasts. Ireland had done the impossible. They were going to the quarter-finals.
We had barely caught our collective breath when our phone began to ring. Lorcan, Hugh, Mary, Eileen, Kevin, every single one of my dad's four brothers and five sisters (one aunt had passed away, my dad is one out of 11) phoned us that day. I remember yelling into the phone a lot and singing along with voices an entire continent and ocean away from me. I longed to be with them, to jump, scream, hug, sing, dance, yell, and laugh with them. I don't think I have ever missed my Irish family or longed so much to be in Ireland as I did that day. When we all settled down hours later, my voice was gone. I like to think that I gave it to Ireland that day.
June 25, 1990 was the day I became a soccer fan. I had played soccer and I enjoyed soccer, but I had never loved soccer like I did that day and have since. I watched Ireland lose the next game to the host team, Italy. I watched in USA '94 as Ireland lost to Holland in the Round of 16 and as Roberto Baggio (Italy) placed a penalty kick so high above the cross bar I wondered if he needed glasses. I watched the final of France '98 while having lunch with my mom when France beat Brazil. Ireland had failed to qualify so I was cheering for the host country (this, of course, was prior to the Handball Henry debacle which will now ensure I hate France for the rest of my natural life). I watched Manchester United win the Treble on the world's tiniest TV while befriending the front door staff at a hostel in Paris. I watched Thun almost hold Arsenal to a tie in a pub in Thun. I hosted a pancake breakfast for the final game of Germany '06 and felt my jaw drop as Zinedine Zidane did the unthinkable to Marco Materazzi. All these memories in my life, all these important moments, tied into the beautiful game all because Ireland beat Romania in penalty kicks. What would have happened if they had lost?
My dad had taped the game, and we would watch it over and over again. I eventually started repeating the announcers as I walked around the house to make my family laugh. My dad even taped it and sent it to Ireland; when I was there in 1996, my uncle played it for me. My cousin, Frank, recently related his story of watching the game at home with his family and my cousin, Cormac (and I'm assuming all of Cormac's family but that never came up in the story) and when the game ended, they ran outside to re-enact the penalty shoot out on the green over and over again. Their memories of Italia '90 were as strong as mine, and it made me happy to know that despite growing up so far from my family, we had common moments in our lives that we would all remember.
I have come to believe that there will never be a sport moment in my life as sweet as Ireland's win over Romania. Soccer, hockey, rugby, there will be no game, no matter how important, that will stay with me the way that game did. Twenty years later, I watch a video about it and I tear up with pride at that moment. I talk about Italia '90 the way older Canadians talk about the '72 series. I reference that game like it was somehow pinnacle to the entire game of soccer and not just the island nation of Ireland. My children will know how important that game was, and likely my grandchild will too, because it really was that important.
