England moaning is the final straw, we had one hand on the ESTA in Prague and we blew it
FOMO has a new form as the World Cup carries on happy without us, bagpipes and all
It’s time to admit it - FOMOATWC has finally taken over and the hurt of Prague is now a real thing as we watch from afar as the bagpipes flaunt with the heat in Miami and the Norwegians play Rock The Boat in Times Square.
Yes folks, disappointment is now turning to anger, upset is now turning to hurt. England’s draw with Ghana in the Celtic World Cup capital of Boston on Tuesday night proved to be the final straw.
I am a World Cupaholic. And I am suffering from FOMOATWC - with apologies to the kids who love an old abbreviation or two on their social media timelines.
FOMOATWC is a poor man’s attempt at turning FOMO into a thing as the Green Army looks on from afar and the Tartan Army and Norway’s Vikings make a good fist at taking our ‘Best Fans In the World’ wall plate away from us.
The kilts are the must have fashion item on South Beach in Miami today with bagpipes an optional extra in football’s high fashion stakes. Knowing the words to Auld Lang Syne is an advantage.
Rowing is the thing if you are a Viking from Norway, crowd rowing with thousands of fellow fans and even the World Cup squad itself out on the pitch for post match celebrations.
What have we got? The plastic Parrots were deflated in Czechia and the Coffee for Troy advert rendered redundant on a hapless night in Prague. So we’ve got FOMOATWC - Fear Of Missing Out At The World Cup.
I don’t see my new catchphrase taking off by the way. Even this veteran of the plastic shamrocks and 1990 knows that FOMOATWC is far too long to make a hashtag and go viral.
But it is a thing for me and I am sure it might be a thing for you. I am enjoying the World Cup - how could you not with Messi defying time itself, France powering forward at every opportunity and Pico flying the flag for us with his Cape Verde heroes?
What I am not enjoying is missing the World Cup experience as an Ireland fan, as someone who follows in the John Mullane tradition when it comes to loving my county and my country.
Last weekend, Meath exited the All-Ireland football championship after the game of one half down in Castlebar, a weak surrender of a summer full of dreams.
On Tuesday, we watched from afar as Ghana did what every top African side has done at this World Cup and shut England down at source, defended in numbers and stifled the creative threats of Gordon, Anderson, Kane and then Saka.
Then we had to listen as England fans and pundits decided to start moaning about the merits, or lack of, of a point against Ghana when they all expected a second win and confirmation that they would top their group en route to the second phase.
Imagine the luxury of being able to moan about a scoreless draw with Ghana. Imagine the joy of celebrating the goalscoring efforts of Haaland, Messi, Cunha and even Ronaldo against Uzbekistan.
We were 2-0 up in Prague. We were ahead in the penalty shoot-out. And we lost. We exited the World Cup at the first play-off hurdle.
And we celebrated that defeat. We spoke of the brave effort. We spoke of the commitment of the players and the dedication of the fans who moved heaven and earth to get to Czechia and did their country proud in the stands. We spoke of a reconnection between the nation and our team.
Yet this morning, I feel a World Cup emptiness. I am suffering from a real World Cup jealousy. I am hurting and it isn’t going to get any easier between now and July 19th when Donald Trump presents the most famous trophy in world football, probably to a few Frenchmen judging by the tournament to date.
It hurts and it stinks. We had one hand on the Esta. And we blew it. Thank God for Pico and Cape Verde!