"Something that you feel will find its own form"

Stan Marino

Whatever about the vitriol expended on his managerial record, there persists a substantial amount of good feeling towards Steve Staunton. A loyal servant to the green jersey and grizzled campaigner, in a way you could half understand the FAI’s leap to embrace him as talisman in their hour of need, a souvenir of better times now past. “The memory be green“, quoth the bard. Indeed, the bizarre thing is that it all has a touch of the Hamlets about it. A tragic hero thrust into the limelight before his time, political skullduggery dispatching his elder, inconvenient predecessor. His playing boots still warm, traded in for loafers coldly furnishing forth the press-conference table. An ailing Polonius by his side, to whom he must lend his ear but not his voice. Rumblings of war and tension reverberate about the court. An increasingly fraught relationship with Ophelia, his public, an innocent weaned on expectation, steadily driven to distraction as her man’s soliloquys become increasingly detached from reality. San Marino were always going to be a handful. You can’t legislate for mistakes. There is nothing you can do. Words, words, words. Continue reading →