The 42

The 42 Editor’s note: This article by David Sneyd forms part of The 42′s subscriber-only coverage of the Nations League. If you’d enjoy more great sportswriting like this, you can sign up to The 42 here.

THE FIRST WORD out of Heimir Hallgrímsson’s mouth sets the tone for 50 hours in Finland.

“Fantastic,” the Republic of Ireland manager says to a question about the trip to Helsinki.

It is 10.15am on Wednesday, two hours ahead of home, and your correspondent has been in the Finnish capital since just before midnight.

By the same time on Thursday The 42 will be tucked up in their bed having already had a microphone prised from their Neil Diamond, Forever In Blue Jeans-inspired death grip at one of the many karaoke bars in the city.

Before that, work needs to be done.

Hallgrímsson’s preference for early training and media duties is a gift. He talks positively and with clarity alongside captain Nathan Collins.

The level of confidence, truth be told, is more than a little disconcerting given how demoralising last month was losing to England and Greece in Dublin.

Despondency reigned supreme.

Their words and demeanour make you wonder if any of that really happened? But then maybe this positive reinforcement is needed. Say it enough times and you will believe.

After our work is done, those same thoughts came through my head in the build up to karaoke in the early evening.

“Dave Diamond” is the stage name bestowed upon me by a colleague, although it kind of sounds like someone else is in a more adult industry may have a case for copyright infringement.

“Do it for, Neil, do it for Neil,” I repeat time and again.

Like the players, a good start is needed. Hit that first note, a confident touch and get the timing right.

“Money talks, but it don’t sing and dance and it don’t walk.”

Nailed it.

It sets the tone for a solid team display – versions of Karma Chameleon, Love Is All Around, She’s Electric and Angels captivating the dozen delighted souls in the place.

“You are very entertaining,” the barman/MC/star-finder says. “Now go home.”

We don’t need to be told twice, especially as a good, long sleep is to be cherished. To my wife, possibly reading this at home with our two children under six, I am sorry.

So good was the karaoke the heavens clear to allow everyone hear the music. The rain that has fallen all day stops by 9pm. The wind that howls and brings an added sense of dread to this trip is no more.

The stillness remains by 11am the following morning.

Matchday, but kick-off still almost 11 hours away.

A walk towards the water with a colleague is ideal – the perfect place to blow off any lingering cobwebs. The smell of sinappy silakka – mustard herring – assaults the nostrils.

Reindeer soup, reindeer burgers and reindeer hotdogs are selling like, er, reindeer hotcakes.

Christmas is only around the corner, after all.

My colleague spots some salmon soup and sends a photo to his younger sister, who he recalls going to Tolka Park with when they were teenagers to watch Shamrock Rovers, and how the salmon soup on sale left a lasting – perhaps damaging – impression.

This naturally leads to some chat about the title race and transfer gossip doing the rounds. You’ll never guess who is going to be making a big move this winter.

For Ireland, Helsinki will also be the place to clear their heads and imagine a brighter future in the Nations League.

Leaving the hotel just after 5pm a different route is presented. The No.1 tram right outside will take us directly to the Olympic Stadium but, going in the opposite direction is a smaller, single red carriage.

“Pub” is written across the top of the front and back. A quick glance inside shows a well-stocked bar and even better dressed locals, the kind of erudite, discerning drinker that wouldn’t feel the desire to sing karaoke after three pints.

“As long as I can have you here with me, I’d much rather be, Forever in Blue Jeans, babe”

Ireland fall behind, then draw level and eventually score an 88th minute winner.

A rewrite is required, sharpish. Hopefully it captures the thrill of it all.

Hallgrímsson and Robbie Brady both speak afterwards.

It’s 1.46am when a couple of us leave, just missing the last tram back to the hotel. The Special (Brew) Service is also nowhere to be seen. A taxi get us back to the hotel just after 2am.

Five of us are back up at 4.45am for our lift to the airport. Your correspondent flying to Athens via Berlin, the others through Copenhagen.

We sit in darkness in the back of the cab. There are voices but faces barely visible, talking about how little sleep we’ve all had.

“Alright, fuck sake, it’s not a competition,” one says, somehow managing to laugh.

It is so early and we are all, frankly, bolloxed. The kind of bolloxed that is impossible to wash off with a shower. The kind of bolloxed that you don’t want to feel fresh or upbeat or in anyway good about yourself. Embrace the bolloxed.

The comedown from the high delivered by Brady’s goal is swift.

Helsinki airport is rammed, even before it reaches 5am. It was voted the best European airport in 2023 according to signs lighting up the place. Again, I’m too bolloxed to verify this.

Despite how busy it is, security is quick and painless. There is a short, stocky bald man wearing a bright red and blue checked shirt with even brighter yellow braces.

If he was wearing a fedora he would be a doppelgänger for a former colleague, the esteemed cricket writer and author Ger Siggins. I always think of Ger when Ireland play as he lives in the shadow of Lansdowne Road.

Passing through another security lane is someone who is the absolute spit of Pierluigi Collina.

Unlike the best airport claim, this does warrant a closer look. As your correspondent approaches, a conversation is overheard.

A grey-haired woman in her 60s with an American accent and American attitude and American runners is giving out to her American husband about some of her American items being confiscated.

“But my lotion is not a fucking liquid, hun.”

The American husband stands with his American head slumped downwards, a brown American cap covering most of his American face and his American chin resting on his American chest.

“Ok, hun,” the American husband replies without looking up.

It’s definitely not Collina but they are definitely American.

Once at the departure gate for Berlin a plan for follow up coverage to this brilliant Ireland win begins to formulate. There are quotes from Scales embargoed until 10am Irish time. Stay tuned.

Hallgrímsson spoke to Irish reporters at 12.30am for six minutes and 52 seconds in a separate huddle after the main post press conference.

The martyr that I am, I transcribe all six minutes and 52 seconds for my colleagues. As I type, I am imagining the happiness and joy and gratitude of those already awake and those who will wake up to these six minutes and 52 seconds of quotes.

These six minutes and 52 seconds will not be forgotten by my colleagues as we continue the show on the road in Greece this weekend.

And neither will these 50 hours in Finland.

Written by David Sneyd and originally published on The 42 whose award-winning team produces original content that you won’t find anywhere else: on GAA, League of Ireland, women’s sport and boxing, as well as our game-changing rugby coverage, all with an Irish eye. Subscribe here.