In the summer of my junior year in college, I worked at a marine biology lab in Ireland, doing shoreline transects and updating a census of nesting northern fulmars.

But, really, it was a soccer summer: that was the year, 1988, that the Irish team qualified for the European cup soccer championships and the whole country was crazy for soccer. I still find myself from time to time — like, this morning, for some reason — singing the chorus to the song that marked the occasion:

Ireland, Ireland;
Show them what we’ve got;
Ireland, Ireland;
We can beat that lot;
Ireland, Ireland;
We can celebrate;
Ireland, Ireland;
In Euro Eighty-Eight.

Mediocre, yes, but catchy.  It served as the the national fight song and got constant rotation on the radio shows we used to listen to in the common room at the marine station.  Ireland was eliminated, eventually, but not before defeating England 1-0, to the universal delirium of the Irish.  Winning the whole tournament would have been great; beating England was better.

Christy Moore has a typically wonderful song, Joxer Goes to Stuttgart, about that epic day, 12 June 1988:

Next morning not one of the papers gave us the slightest chance

They said the English team would lead us on a merry dance

With their Union Jacks them English fans for victory were set

Until Ray Houghton got the ball and he stuck it in the net.

What happened next is history, brought tears to many eyes

That day will be the highlight of many people’s lives

Why Joxer climbed right over the top and the last time he was seen

Was arm in arm with Jack Charlton singing “Revenge for Skibbereen”.