“I bless you, Father, Lord of heaven and of earth, for hiding these things from the learned and the clever and revealing them to mere children.”

Twelve years ago, for the first time ever, Ireland got into the finals of the football World Cup. Our little team of second and third division players was going to America to play in the biggest tournament of all. We were going to play with the big boys - Brazil, Argentina, Italy, Germany, Holland - all the greatest football nations in the world. We had no stars in our side - no great players. When they asked Pele about it he could not even name a single Irish footballer. But, we had played well - and been lucky - in the qualifiers and we had earned to the right to be there. How proud we where that our little team from our little country was going to be right up there with all the best in the world.

And then we got news that our first game was going to be against Italy - one of the great footballing nations and one of the favourites for the title. But, the game would be on Friday afternoon. And that particular Friday afternoon was the feast of the Sacred Heart when, by long tradition, there is a procession in every parish to celebrate the Sacred Heart.

It was a major national crisis. The bishops met. Could they cancel the feast? Couldn’t they at least change the day? And they decided “No”. In the end, it was just a football match and the Sacred Heart processions would have to go ahead as planned. Some of us did not feel that was their best ever decision.

So the day came and the loyal Catholics in our parish turned out in their thousands. And the procession began. But everyone was tense and on edge. And every few minutes a little group of men would go off behind some bushes with a radio. And the Word would come back “Just about to start.” Then, “just kicked off.” “Five minutes gone - no score.” “Ten minutes, - no score.” Then, at 15 minutes, a convulsion swept through the crowd. Ireland had scored!

Later in the evening, we saw it on television. Ray Houghton, the Irish right mid-fielder ran down the right-wing with the ball at his feet. He was confronted by probably the best left back in the world at the time. Houghton knew that he could not possibly get past him. Frantically, he looked for a team-mate to pass the ball to, but they were all well marked by the world famous Italian “cattanacio” defence. So, he did what we would all have done - he panicked! In desperation, he turned infield, closed his eyes and, from 30 yards, shot for goal - with his left foot. The ball ripped like a bullet over Dino Zoff - the best goalkeeper in the world - and into the back of the net and Ireland had scored.

Now, really to understand that moment, you had to be a Liverpool supporter. Ray Houghton spent his entire career running up and down the right-wing for Liverpool. And in all that time, he was never able to do anything with his left foot except stand on it - sometimes. He could not pass with it; he could not shoot with it; he could not do anything with it. For him to score that goal with a thirty yard shot from his left foot was little short of a miracle.

After that, the Irish team hardly saw the ball. One of the world’s best teams attacked them as if their lives depended on it. In front of their own fanatical fans, they dare not lose. The Irish ran and tackled and defended like men inspired. And we - at our procession - got little snippets of news every few minutes from the radio. Every time the procession stopped for a few moments, somebody would sneak into the bushes with a radio and the Word would go round.

“Still one-nil - twenty minutes to go.” “Still one-nil - fifteen minutes to go.” “Still one-nil, ten minutes to go.”

And all the time, the prayers and the readings were still going on, but nobody could really concentrate. We were all in unbearable suspense waiting for the next few minutes to pass. Could little Ireland really hold on for a win - a famous victory - against maybe the best team in the world?

And how we prayed!

And then finally the Word went round...“YESSSSSSS!!!!!!!!”

The game was over and we had won. The parish priest paused for a few moments and then said “Let us thank God for the great news that has just been whispered in my ear. Let us pray that all of us may be as inspired by the Sacred Heart as our team has been this afternoon.”

At the time, I thought that was just a pious platitude. But when I got home and saw the game on television, I thought a little more and realised it was actually something quite significant. Our team was inspired that day to play well above their normal level of performance. They never played that well either before or since. But for one day, they were inspired because they knew what it meant to the pride of the whole nation of Ireland.

And what we celebrate today in the Sacred Heart is not only God’s love for us, but also our love for God - that makes it possible to perform miracles - to perform greater works than Jesus did himself. The Spirit that inspires us when we truly give ourselves completely not to our own selfish ends - but to the achievement of some enterprise that is really and ultimately worthwhile - something we can genuinely be proud of.

So let us also pray that we too may be fired with the love of God and driven to do things that are beyond our normal narrow confines of possibility. It may not make us international footballers - it may make us something even better.

Let us stand and profess our Faith in God who inspires us.

Mount Street Jesuit Centre,
114 Mount Street,
London SW1K 3AH.
ENGLAND.
fatbaldnproud@yahoo.co.uk