OK, so it's fairly
readily accepted that we're a nation of begrudgers, hypocrites, and malingering b**t**ds.
But surely the collective and unanimous promotion to public enemy number one of an
international footballer hitting a patch of career turbulence is
nothing but ugly and
mean-spirited.Let's recap. Phil Babb is a mixed-race Irish man, a talented footballer who
elected to represent in international competition the land of his mother rather than his
birth. Initially, he did so with quite a degree of success. We liked Babbsy then. Sure he
was a wide boy, bit of a geezer, but we didn't mind that. Course he had a few beers with
the lads. Don't they all? Don't we all?
In fact, Babbsy was the man for a while, the king. Toast of the Keane Edge circuit
and feted by Kenny Lite. Got a move to the Pool. Hit the big time, big style and no better
man to large it up.
Then it began to unravel. The Pool elected to field Babbsy in a unfamiliar position
and he made a few mistakes. The composed style that found such favour alongside McGrath in
the States cost him dearly a few times in the English hurly burly. He fell out of favour.
Short of confidence and sometimes of practice, he made similar mistakes in the green. We
weren't pleased. If we felt he was sorry, it might have been ok. If Babbsy had begged our
forgiveness, we may have found a way to mask our contempt. But Babbsy didn't seem sorry.
Babbsy was a wide boy, a geezer, he had a few drinks with the lads. We didn't like that.
Now we jeer Babbsy. Not quite actually. In our tiger-spun sophistry, we cheer him
ironically. Even before he fell foul of the law on a well trodden car-top path, Babbsy was
a joke. Our high horse mounted scribes from the Sunday papers - no doubt teetotallers all
- fuelled the fun. They tittered at the hilarious Anfield hewn moniker 'Phil Bad', scorned
his disgraceful reluctance to feed the hands that bite him with interviews, and mocked his
haughty 'I'm a premiership player' rejection of Wolverhampton salvation. Several took
issue with Babbsy's decision to honour the terms of his Liverpool contract, lambasting his
unaccountable unwillingness to jump at a chance to half his take home pay to play
substandard football elsewhere. No doubt the same gents would jump at a chance to trade
their expense accounts and premiership trips for a stint compiling the death notices for
the Tipperary star.
And what is it that Babbsy has actually done? Been responsible for what, maybe five
goals conceded by the Republic of Ireland football team. Is that it? No glutinous
diversion of the nation's funds for his own ends then? Surely a couple of sex crimes? A
fatal traffic accident? A disrespectful late night urination in the grounds of the Aras?
No? Nothing like that. "But he's a beer monster" you say, "a lager lout, a
'symptom of the drink culture permeating the game'". Right, unlike McGrath, Best,
Higgins and every second Irish hero for decades.
No come on. What is it with Babbsy? Is it cos he's a cockney?
Is it cos he's black?
Is it cos he's a rich, respectably talented young man who doesn't find it necessary to ask
your permission to fail? Whatever it is, don't tell me it's cos he has a few drinks
with the lads.
