‘A galling night’ – The sound that still haunts Ireland after Henry handball

For many Irish people in the Stade de France on November 18 2009, one of the main memories of the night is not actually the act of cheating that made that World Cup qualification play-off infamous. Most present weren’t initially aware of what had happened. The majority of Irish supporters were at the other corner of the stadium and, even in the press box, there were actually no replay screens. Those of us up in the media section knew there was some commotion, especially with how a manic Shay Given reacted.

It was only over the next few minutes, when a series of messages written in stunned capital letters came through from those at home, that people actually in the stadium for such a moment realised that such a historic piece of cheating had taken place in front of their eyes.

They just didn't see it.

One of the main memories, then, was what they heard.

By the time the final whistle went, everyone knew exactly what a piece of robbery had taken place, that Thierry Henry had so blatantly used his hand to set William Gallas’s key extra-time goal to send France to the 2010 World Cup thanks to a 2-1 aggregate win. That was also when it started.

As the gold ticker tape fell from the roof, the stadium PA began to play ‘I Gotta Feeling’ by the Black Eyed Peas came on.

You could justifiably argue the song is bad enough as it is but, from that moment, it was utterly irredeemable for most Irish fans in the stadium. If you ask anyone who was there about it, the response is usually very similar: “that f***ing song”. To them, it will always be associated with that moment. It will always be a poorly contrived attempted at celebration music, played while they were in mourning and trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Oh, Irish people had a bloody feeling, alright, thank you Will.I.Am, but it wasn’t that this was a good night. This was a galling night, made all the worse by the fact Henry himself had the cheek to actually sit down beside an utterly despondent Richard Dunne and try and console him.

That he did that rather than celebrate a World Cup qualification he was desperate enough for to cheat said an awful lot about Henry’s guilt, although Dunne later inadvertently revealed that the French forward wasn’t exactly completely honest then either. “I handled it,” Henry said to the centre-half. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Looking at it, it’s quite obvious he did mean it,” Dunne later responded.

That was almost the worst part of it, the brazen condescension of Henry, and what seemed the pre-emptive attempt to save his image with the Irish players before they could see the full truth of what happened.

The staff were having none of it. Giovanni Trapattoni and his assistants Liam Brady and Marco Tardelli were speaking to the media with a truly aggrieved solemnity, and occasionally making dark suggestions about the unfairness of it all.

"With the draw Fifa wanted France and Portugal to go through and that's what happened," Brady said. "You saw the goal and that's enough said. It's a bad day for football. When it comes to the crunch, the big teams always seem to go through.”

He made a point of coming to the receptive and hugely sympathetic press with all of this but that was another thing about being there as a journalist. There was a distinctive and rare unity to it all. That extended far beyond the relationship between the media and that management team, though.

It was the feel of the whole night from an Irish perspective.

Paris 2009 was not just about the injustice of the moment. It was about the injustice of the game.

Ireland had genuinely put in one of the country’s great displays. A situation that had looked lost came so close to offering one of the historic wins.

Having been so poor in losing the first leg 1-0 at home, to the point that the match in Paris looked like a foregone conclusion, Ireland responded by trampling over all expectations. They trampled right over France and, for the vast majority of the 120 minutes played, were the better team. They pinned Raymond Domenech’s side right back, and could really have been 4-0 up. Robbie Keane’s supremely taken first-half goal could have been the start of a truly stunning win. He ended up squandering a one-on-one, as did Damien Duff, and John O’Shea missed when he should have scored.

That is also why elements of the reaction weren't completely unified. There was some debate in Ireland about whether their players would have done the same, and a lot of pointing out how there was no sympathy for Georgia when Keane dived for a crucial penalty in qualifying. There was also some feeling that, if you waste so many chances, this is what you leave yourself open to.

Henry’s former teammate Bixente Lizerazu didn’t feel that way, though. He went up to one Irish journalist after the match and apologised. Many around Paris were the same. There was a lot of disgust, and that meant many Irish feelings of resentment were towards Henry rather than France.

It is also why there should be a more friendly edge to the “revenge” angle on Sunday. It feels playfully pantomime, rather than pointed, despite the rawness of the emotion at the time.

One other overriding emotion was pride. Everyone realised the team had given their all. It restored the bond between the Irish team and their supporters. It was one of the odd positives of the occasion.

There is also something odd about events like that.

In a strange way, it is almost a privilege to have been present at something that does ring out in football history, that you can talk about with first-hand experience now it is so relevant again.

And that’s even if many there didn’t actually see it.

They do know well what they heard.