SEAN: Some people say that Ireland's big dream is to somehow float itself
into the middle of the Atlantic,
so that people will stop confusing it with England.
Which is only partly true,
because Ireland's real dream is to someday win the World Cup.
And in 1990, we were almost there.
As in, for the first time we'd actually managed to qualify.
Ho, that was some game last night.
Amazing, 1-1 against the mighty Dutch.
Another triumphant draw.
Hey, you know what me and the Irish team have in common?
Where do I start?
We're both amazing at drawing.
Yeah, and word play.
Ah, yeah, this is what it's all about, buddy.
Passion, patriotic pride.
And, poorly constructed rhymes.
I thought you said it was all about beating the English.
Aye, I mean, it's mainly about beating the English,
but it's also about beating the Koreans, buddy.
- That's right. - And the bloody Egyptians.
- Yeah, and those greasy Italians. - Yeah. (LAUGHING)
- Schillaci? - Schillaci!
Schillaci!
(MUSIC PLAYING)
# Dancing at the disco, bumper to bumper
# Wait a minute, where's me jumper?
# Where's me jumper, where's me jumper?
Oh, no #
Hi, Dad.
Say hello to the holiday mobile.
Borrowed it from Francie Feeley.
It smells like fish.
It's like we're at the seaside already, isn't it, pal?
In a Titanic kind of way.
The funny thing is, I go quite well with some iceberg lettuce. Ha ha!
See ya, lads.
- Goal! - Oh! You lucky!
A great knock-down by Tony Cascarino!
I could jump on that burly Irish bastard like a big sexy, bouncy castle.
- Have you started packing yet, Deb? - We're still going?
- Of course we're still going. - What about the World Cup?
We're not cancelling our holiday for some foreign bloody sport.
- Some foreign bloody sport? - Blasphemy, that.
Liam, what you don't understand is, it's not just about football.
It's about this country finally coming into its own.
- Exactly! - Stepping out of England's shadow!
'Cause you know what? We don't need them.
We don't need anyone.
(WHISPERS) We don't need anyone.
Yeah, well, of course you got to be worried.
But we're happy with a draw, and now we got to prove
everybody right that it was a good draw.
Yeah, but, apart from the specific English people
who do have Irish grannies.
Yes, exactly. It's a bunch of English lads kicking a ball around
in Irish jerseys.
It's not nationalism, it's flagism.
Listen to me, Mr Man.
If you had any sense, you'd be the one printing the flags
- and the banners and the t-shirts. - That's right.
You need to board the good ship Charlton, Liam,
or you'll be left to rot here on your old island of old rotten shite.
- Are you drunk? - I'm a little bit drunk.
- Brilliant. - Give it a lash, Jack.
Seriously, Liam, I don't want to go to Donegal.
Would it be weird if I stayed here?
And I don't want to watch the World Cup on foreign soil.
I won't understand the commentary.
It's the same commentary and the same soil.
There's no soil like Boyle soil.
Look what you've done to Trisha.
Jesus, are you all right, pet?
(SOBBING) Talking Heads have broken up.
(WHISPERING) Her favourite band.
You see? She's not upset about Donegal.
She's just upset because some stupid band broke up.
(SOBS LOUDLY)
You are on a one-man mission to make this family miserable.
Look. We're going. It's holiday time.
And there are more important things in life than football.
Name one!
(STAMMERING) Family?
Oh, yeah.
The family needs this, Debs.
Oh, he's good. He is good.
It's been a tough year.
What with Fidelma getting pregnant, and Trisha failing her exams,
and Martin knocking down the wall, and Sinead...
Well, Sinead...
I've done a bunch of stuff you don't know about.
We need this break. We need to reconnect with the land of our fathers
and escape the hustle and bustle of Boyle.
- Hustle and bustle? - (ROOSTER CROWING)
That, right there, manic suburban cockerels crowing willy-nilly!
We need to get away from this racket!
We need a bit of Moone-time, Deb.
Yeah, I suppose.
Hey, lads. Let's haul this in the fish wagon!
Well, Moones plus one.
And you know Dessie's coming, too.
Maybe we should stay.
- Yeah. - (SIGH OF RELIEF) Great.
Makes more sense when you think about it.
Come on, lads.
Oh, thank God.
I thought that was me.
- (HONKS HORN) - Martin!
Aw, balls.
Why does Dessie have to come?
'Cause Dessie's part of the family now. Sort of.
And Fidelma wants us to spend more time with him.
So why's Padraic coming? It's not like he got one of us pregnant.
Ha! Not yet anyway.
DEBRA: You know it is Martin's turn to bring a friend.
Remember last time, Sinead brought the green giant.
SINEAD: Don't call her that!
It's not her fault she could only eat peas.
I can only eat peas.
- Hi, dudes! Any room at the inn? - Hop in there, Desmo.
- Give it a good lift there, love. - It's pretty heavy.
Come on, you're not that pregnant.
You're bringing your keyboard.
Well, I know how much you like music, Trisha, so I thought it might be fun...
Great!
Oh! We're across the border. So long Roscommon.
Keep an eye on your things, folks.
Time to take out my new holiday look.
It's inspired by Marty McFly in Back to the Future Part II.
But I'm Martin.
If anyone should be Marty McFly, it's me.
Tell it to last week, Martin.
Oh, please, only I can do that.
I love it, Padraic, and now all you need is a Doc Brown.
Don't worry, I've got that covered.
Who are you meant to be?
Oh, I'm Maradona.
But, um...
Martin got confused.
Irish speakers make me feel weird.
I don't know what they're saying,
but I always think they're judging the rest of us.
(SPEAKING LOCAL LANGUAGE)
So, are we stopping soon?
Or do we have a toilet bucket, or what's the craic, huh?
Oh, I can feel it coming.
Things are getting loose.
LIAM: All right, come on, lads.
Martin!
Oh, balls.
Not too shabby there, Desmo.
Forget to turn off the immersion, did ya?
I'm gonna turn it back on.
Here we are! Whoo!
I can't wait to explore this futuristic landscape.
I'll see if I can rustle up some plutonium for the journey home.
I suppose I'll just carry on with me work as a doctor, or something.
Wait, wait, wait. Why do I need a suitcase?
- Careful with that precious cargo. - What?
Is that just soil?
No, sir. That is Boyle soil.
Ahh, my own private embassy.
(LAUGHING) Ah, yeah.
- Hasn't changed a bit. - Just as awful as I remember it.
Come on, I'll show you where the bedrooms are.
Now you're talking.
You know, Trish, I think this break will really help you get over
Chalky Heads breaking up.
Yeah, it's a great house to cry in.
Have they even cleaned this place since we were last here?
No, I don't think they have.
(ECHOING) I can only eat peas.
I see this little shanty townhouse hasn't changed, then.
Okay, look, if you all want to walk back to Boyle, that is fine with me.
Okay, I'll see you at home, so.
Martin, how big is this bloody embassy?
Come on, we're leaving this dump.
Wait, you're running away from home?
I'm running away from holidays.
That's not a thing.
I just think that if Dad got to know him a bit better, that he'd like him.
I mean, you like him though, don't you?
He's one in a million.
Do you think I'm talking about Jack Charlton?
Big JC, leading us to the Promised Land.
Liking the sound of this chat, lads.
Mam!
Sorry, yeah.
Dad will come round.
- As long as you promise one thing. - Oh, anything.
Don't impregnate his daughter.
Sorry, Debs. Never been a man for promises. Don't have the time.
Right. Family activity.
I'm going to the arcade.
Right, but the rest of us are going to do something together, so help me God.
Is it a dork fancy dress competition?
Listen to this.
There's an ancient Celtic burial dolmen. 4,000 years old, it is.
I mean, what an insight into our nation's history that'll be.
And the dolmen is within walking distance of Irish goalkeeper
Packie Bonner's house.
Ole! Let's go honour the Bonner.
Are we nearly there?
We've been walking for one minute, Sinead.
That's where we came from.
Oh.
Wait, where's Martin?
He must have gone to the arcade with Trisha.
You see? While we're up here, wherever he is, we know he's safe.
Yeah, not like in Boyle, with all those drive-by shootings.
You know what? Maybe we should cross the road and head back, buddy.
No, Sean. I just feel like an immigrant up here, you know?
Right, right.
With their mad language and funny ways. I'm loyal to my own town.
I miss the comforts of home.
You know that we're still in Ireland, right?
It's not Boyle.
- I mean, it's not far... - I admit it, I'm stuck in my ways.
Always have been.
You're a Boyleist.
If we have to put a name on it, then, yes, I'm a Boyleist,
and my heart yearns to return.
Which is why we should cross the road and head back.
- Oh, yeah. This is the wrong way. - Exactly.
(PSYCHO KILLER BY TALKING HEADS PLAYING)
- Hello. - (GASPS)
(SPEAKING LOCAL LANGUAGE)
Are you okay? You look sad.
I'm sorry, I don't speak Irish or...
Oh, my God, I'm so sorry.
Can I share your mourning rock?
Yeah, that's where I hurt, too.
(DOORBELL RINGING)
- He's not home. - Well, yeah, he's probably in Italy
with the team, isn't he?
But it's weird how he has no goalposts or anything in his garden.
(ALL CHATTERING)
Yeah, but look at the indentations in the grass.
I bet you that's where he put the jumpers.
You know, for goalposts.
- Good point - (ALL CHATTERING)
- Will we take a photo? - Of course.
We have dead grass at home.
- Cheap bloody guidebook. - What did he say?
You're not going to believe this, but that's exactly where the jumpers were.
Oh, wow!
Football history.
(ALL CHATTERING)
- There you go. - Packie Bonner!
Holidays!
It's gonna get dark pretty soon, buddy. I'm worried we're gonna miss the match.
I think we should head back.
Wait, look at that house over there.
- Do you see what I see? - That's how this works.
Those are the Roscommon colours!
Yes! Nobody else has those colours!
You're getting on well. Dad's definitely warming to you.
Yeah.
I'm not sure I love the nickname he's given me, though.
Oh, I'm sure you misheard him, Dessie.
Maybe.
It really is peaceful up here.
Yeah, it really is, life-wrecker.
I feel so connected to this land.
The history, the undiluted pride in the language.
This is Ireland.
No, I think it's Cameroon.
- Who are we playing anyway? - Romania.
Our sworn enemies.
- Since when? - Since now, Liam.
We can't watch the match on that.
We could build a bonfire and sing the old songs of our fathers.
Right, we're finding a pub.
Pa, pa, pa, pa, pri, pisty, pa, pa, pa. Knick, knock, and the big Boyle elbow.
Ah, the old Roscommon knock.
Opening doors and hearts for 3,000 years.
Oh, that's right, yellow and blue are also the colours of Romania.
(SPEAKING ROMANIAN)
COMMENTATOR: Just minutes away from the biggest game in Irish history.
Bloody soccer, huh?
- I just don't get it, life-wrecker. - Oh, me neither.
Bunch of rich fellas kicking around a pig's bladder.
- Pretending... - Pretending to be Irish.
- It's just flagism. - Exactly.
- I was just saying the same... - Sweet mercy.
Did they meet the Pope?
Come on, Ireland!
COMMENTATOR: Now, Ireland's sworn enemy, Romania, take the field.
Mommy?
This is the biggest day of our lives.
Oh, there you are, love. Good timing. We're just about to start.
A clock tower.
Now all we need is lightning.
And a car that can travel through time.
Oh... Yeah.
And now, a nation rises to its feet.
I wonder whose national anthem they're going to sing.
They're singing As Gaeilge.
I suppose we're the lucky ones to be born Irish.
Those lads choose to be.
That's a good point...
Dessie.
Thanks, Liam.
- Mr Moone. - Mr Moone.
You'll never beat the Irish!
ALL: You'll never beat the Irish!
MAN: Come on now!
SEAN: And so the Moones joined all the families of Ireland
in cheering on their green giants.
Come on, ye green giants!
Aw, isn't this great!
I feel like something's missing, though.
Oh, you're right. More drink.
COMMENTATOR: Romania on the attack now.
(ALL CLAMOURING)
SEAN: And hundreds of miles away in Genoa,
their green giants heard the roars across the seas.
They fought like heroes. Like 11 Cu Chulainns.
And with the hope of making a good country great,
they battled for 120 long minutes and...
Drew.
Yeah, they drew. They drew again.
COMMENTATOR: It's Ireland nil, Romania nil.
- So what happens now? - Penalties.
I don't know if I can take it. I mean, this is famine-esque.
COMMENTATOR: The coin toss has determined Romania will go first.
Shh! Shh!
- No! - Aww.
COMMENTATOR: 1- nil.
1- 1!
ALL: Boo!
COMMENTATOR: Cascarino!
And now, it's Daniel Timofte vs Donegal's Packie Bonner.
We were at his house today!
That's right.
COMMENTATOR: And now, it's all up to David O'Leary.
The nation holds its breath.
Oh, come on, Danny O'Leary!
Yay!
For the green army, the impossible dream continues.
Ole! Ole! Ole! Ole!
Ole! Losers!
So...
What's for dinner?
SEAN: The very next morning, in a haze of euphoria,
Liam Moone commandeered the football bandwagon and rushed his family home
to share the joy of a World Cup quarter final in their own hometown.
# Give it a lash, Jack Give it a lash, Jack
# Never, never, never say no
# Ireland, Ireland... #
SEAN: And even Trisha's musical misery mellowed
when her angel of the mourning rock introduced her to the fragrant sounds of
some Rosie Stones.
# Ireland, Ireland... #
# I sell my soul... #
(SPEAKING ROMANIAN)
Martin.
Will you grab the last of the bags from the van, Martin?
Ouch.
You didn't notice I was gone.
- From where? - Oh, my God.
- I ran away! - When?
- From holiday! - We've been on the journey of our lives!
I wasn't in the van.
We knew you weren't in the van.
At least we didn't have to look at that annoying baseball cap.
Oh, double ouch.
That was Padraic's annoying baseball cap.
Oh, balls. Padraic. Okay, back in the fish van, everyone.
I did it! I finally did it!
What did you do?
Set the road on fire!
Yes!
(ALL CLAMOURING)
Come on, you boys in green!
COMMENTATOR: Schillaci scores!
Toto Schillaci has undone Ireland's dreams and...
Schillaci.
ITALIAN MAN FROM EARLIER: Schillaci!
Let's wrap this up and here we go.
COMMENTATOR: There's the full-time whistle, it's all over here in Rome.
This remarkable journey has reached it's final port.
Who wants a fresh new Irish headband?
No one does, Dad. It's done.
But we're a new Ireland now.
Free from the shackles of the old world order.
Shut up, Liam! You're upsetting everyone.
COMMENTATOR: A port of sadness for ships of defeat
that float in a harbour of tears.
Do you need a hand burning those, Dad?
SEAN: The good ship, Jack Charlton, sailed into Dublin as though they had
won the World Cup, tired, punch-drunk, drink-drunk.
The first national heroes of the new Ireland.
We prepared properly. We had a little bit of sun.
We ate well.
(CHEERS)
And we drank very little.
(UPROARIOUS CHEERING)
We're gonna change that tonight.
(CROWD CHEERING WILDLY)
SEAN: And as proved by Tony Cascarino himself,
if you've got enough Irish spirit,
you don't even need an Irish granny!