INTO THE WARZONE
In 1998, the Ireland team flew into Belgrade flanked by fighter pilots, entering a divided nation that was so on edge it was about to ‘implode’
GLANCING out the aeroplane window at 23,000 feet above the pitch-black Balkans, the last thing you expect to see is the face of a fighter pilot staring back. But there he was, holding his position by the wing-tip of the charter flight bringing the Republic of Ireland squad to Belgrade for a European Championship qualifier.
On the other side of the plane, a second fighter jet hovered menacingly. The two of them weren’t up for a joy ride either; they meant business.
It was time, a few of us thought, to order a large gin and tonic and dig out the rosary beads.
A few edgy moments later, the captain casually announced via the intercom that we had entered a ‘no fly zone’ and he had been instructed to keep a holding pattern.
With NATO jets as out-riders, the Irish flight circled above a Balkans war zone for several minutes. Anything could have happened.
Eventually, we got clearance to proceed with our descent to Belgrade and the word on board was that someone had put a call in to Mary Robinson, then a UN High Commissioner, to vouch for us.
It was the night of November 16, 1998 and one of the most bizarre chapters in the chequered history of Irish international football had taken another twist. But then, there was nothing straightforward about Group 8 of those Euro 2000 qualifiers, which saw a raft of matches postponed, relations strained between FAI and UEFA, before the cruellest of conclusions in Skopje.
From the moment the draw was made in Ghent in January 1998, and Ireland were pitched in with Yugoslavia, Croatia and Macedonia, as well as makeweights Malta, we feared something might go amiss as tensions were simmering in the territories freed of the late Tito’s grip.
As a colleague suggested ‘why don’t we let the three boys from the Balkans squabble over one qualifying place and leave ourselves and Malta to fight over another?’
A month later, February 1998, ethnic tensions in the Balkans tinderbox boiled over into a conflict known as the Kosovo War, and Group 8 became a political football.
On the one side, you had Serb and Montenegro rebel forces of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia who felt Kosovo was their patch; on the other you had the Kosovo Liberation Army and Kosovo Albanians seeking independence. Crucially, Kosovo had powerful allies in the shape of NATO, including the United States.
The Kosovo War lasted until June 1999 and caused major disruption to Group 8 as a cluster of matches were postponed. To finish on time, Ireland ended up playing three internationals in a week while Yugoslavia crammed four into 21 days.
The campaign began promisingly for Mick McCarthy’s team with a convincing home win over classy Croatia with Denis Irwin and Roy Keane getting the goals.
A month later, on October 10, Ireland were scheduled to play Yugoslavia in Belgrade but no one was sure about going there as the Serbs and Kosovans were at each other’s throats.
The UN Balkans Envoy Richard Holbrooke made it quite clear to Slobodan Milosevic, President of FRY what would happen unless the Serbs backed off. ‘What’s left of your country will implode,’ he said.’
Into this madness, the Irish football team were ordered to fly by UEFA.
‘It was a war zone and we stressed to UEFA our concerns about the dangers of travelling but they wouldn’t listen,’ recalled Bernard O’Byrne, the former chief executive of the FAI. There was also the thorny issue for the FAI of getting insurance covers for the players.
‘At one point, UEFA provided us with the NATO missile paths. Basically, they were saying, “if your plane avoided those paths, you’ll be ok”. They also claimed Belgrade was the safest place to be because of its military fortifications and the number of soldiers there. It was ludicrous,’ said O’Byrne.
O’Byrne had advised Irish supporters not to travel to the game but UEFA stood firm and McCarthy assembled his squad in Dublin ready to be scrambled.
ON Monday, October 5, UEFA finally caved in after NATO threatened to bombard military sites in Belgrade after attacks on ethnic Albanians in Kosovo. ‘In view of the political situation in Yugoslavia and the subsequent effects at international level, UEFA has decided to postpone the Euro 2000 qualifying match between Yugoslavia and Republic of Ireland for reasons of security,’ said UEFA.
Typically, McCarthy took the news on the chin.
‘It’s an anti-climax with all the preparation we have been doing for this Yugoslav game. But we must
It was time to order a gin and tonic and get out the rosary beads
abide by these decisions – there are no alternatives.’
On October 14, Ireland continued their 100% start to the campaign when they beat Malta 5-0 in Lansdowne Road with two goals from a tenderfoot teenager, Robbie Keane.
The following day an uneasy ceasefire was agreed in the Balkans, prompting UEFA to move swiftly.
They re-fixed the Yugoslavia-Ireland qualifier for November 18 – the date had been set aside for Yugoslavia to play England at Wembley but that game was called off. A month later, McCarthy re-assembled his troops in Dublin. Crucially, Robbie Keane was unavailable through injury; it was a worrying portent.
Even more disquieting were the fighter pilots flanking the team plane but having avoided the wrath of NATO, Ireland then stood firm in the line of fierce Yugoslavia fire in the Red Star Stadium.
This was the Slavs’ first game of the qualifiers, they were at home, and revved up to make a point.
Just past the hour mark, Predrag Mijatovic broke the deadlock and Ireland couldn’t claw their way back, although substitute David Connolly had a late chance to equalise.
At the airport, tired players, and press hacks, hauled themselves on to the charter for the flight home to Dublin.
It was late at night, cold and miserable. Everyone wanted to get the hell out of Dodge.
But there was one final pot-hole as harassed airport workers demanded payment from the FAI in return for fuelling the plane.
It led to a stand-off involving O’Byrne, the late Ray Treacy, the FAI’s travel agent, and the sulky Serbs. This was a verbal skirmish the Irish were up for. After a heated argument, the bluff was called and the plane, juiced to the full, took off.
There may have been a fighter escort as we climbed into Kosovo air space but no one cared; it was time for another gin.
A month later, the window of opportunity to play further qualifiers in Belgrade slammed shut when fighting resumed.
The following March, NATO naval forces launched an offensive against the Serbs. In Belgrade – supposedly safe according to UEFA – the Chinese Embassy was bombed, killing three Chinese journalists. By June 12, there had been 10,000 deaths when Milosevic accepted the international peace plans for Kosovo.
The shelling stopped and Group 8 could resume but at least the Republic of Ireland had been to Belgrade, got in and got out in one piece, if damaged in a sporting sense.
Almost 18 years later, the challenge for Martin O’Neill and his men is to survive unscathed on their competitive return to the Serbian capital tomorrow and take flight with their World Cup dream.
Ireland had been to Belgrade, and got in and out in one piece