On Wednesday night, I was lying around watching the Real Madrid game and uttered words I never thought I'd even dream up, never mind say aloud.
'What is Ronaldo's problem? Is he injured? Is he checked out? Is he finished?'
As Cristiano fanboys go, I'm as fawning and as pathetic as the worst of them but here I was watching what should've been a nothing game with Las Palmas descend into chaos and I was baying for blood. I wanted answers. I wanted a scapegoat.
For 85 minutes, the best player I've ever enjoyed watching was standing still, throwing his hands into the air, losing the ball. The crowd were on his back and he wasn't giving them any reason to get off it (outside of the 387 goals he had already scored for the club before that game).
For the last five minutes, he Ronaldo bagged two goals, brought his tally to three in two games and completed another comeback for Real Madrid in successive fixtures.
https://twitter.com/ConanDoherty/status/837620744817426436
Injured? Checked out? Finished?
Sports fans are brats. They're spoiled. Petulant. Incestuous. They don't stop whinging until they get what they want and then when they get that, they demand more.
Expectation is the worst thing you could offer someone like this because once the bar is raised, they'll never accept anything beneath it.
It got me thinking about a man called Rob Kearney.
Even a brief snapshot through his career would command respect.
- 3 Six Nations titles
- 1 Grand Slam
- 3 Champions Cup titles
- 1 Challenge Cup
- 3 Pro 12 titles
- 2 Lions call-ups
Everyone knows what Kearney has won. They're well aware that, by the time he finishes his international career, he'll be pushing 80 or even 90 plus caps for his country. The thing with sports fans though is that they just don't care. Not in the heat of battle anyway.
There's always another one to win, always another record to break, and always another try to stop. So, whilst no-one will ever deny the Leinster specimen his place amongst some of the best, knee jerk reactions and short-sighted rage will muddy the waters until he's earned his rest.
Right now, Kearney isn't playing the best rugby he's played for Ireland. Perhaps in the last number of seasons, he hasn't hit the same heights that he reached previously but it was only three months ago that he was ripping it up against the finest side in the world and the Irish were loving it.
https://twitter.com/Michael_Mellett/status/795006513555394560
You fast forward and the Scots are running riot past a flat defence and the same boy is suddenly to blame.
https://twitter.com/michaelc2443/status/827892249069502465
It's easy to blame Kearney, you see. It's the easiest thing in the world to blame the full back.
No-one's going to argue black to white here and they're not going to say that the 15 has been the player of the tournament but he's the best option there right now, plain and simple. He's more solid than Zebo, he's more experienced, he's more reliable. We call Joe Schmidt the best coach in the world and then question why he picks certain players.
Just recently, Jamie Heaslip was the distasteful flavour of the month. People were calling for his head mostly out of boredom with the team - then you hear someone like Shane Williams wax lyrical about the
best back row in the world and it's sobering.
As the last line of defence though, the Dundalk native is there to be shot at. He gets it in the teeth when it's nothing to even do with him.
He was blamed for Stuart Hogg's second try. Why? Because he was left two-on-one. Because Jackson got sucked in and Earls didn't make the tackle.
Kearney was faced with two men and did only what he could do. He was lambasted for not stopping both of them.
But that's what we do as sports fans. We whinge.
When things don't go our way, we turn on each other - we turn on even the ones who can help us the most. But make no mistake about it, if Ireland topple England on March 18 at Lansdowne Road and Joe Schmidt clinches the Six Nations again, you can be damn sure that Rob Kearney will be the toast of Dublin once more and all will be forgotten.
Whatever the hell it is we're supposed to forget.
