Talk about starting off how you mean to go on! First stop on the Euro tour was a one night stay in sin city itself... Amsterdam.
When the alarm went off at 4am I was up and fully decked out in green head to toe, a bit like Father Dougal in his Ireland kit. After a quick sprint to the aircoach and wandering by far too many Coppers victims mashing into their kebabs, I was in T2 ready to board. The flight itself was jammed with Irish fans and the highlight had to be seeing one of the lads from my football being wheeled onto the plane because of cruciate ligament surgery...talk about dedication to the session!
After landing in the dam it was straight to the hostel to drop the bags and then into the town centre. Faint chants of Ole Ole Ole echoed around the red light district as bemused Irish fans strolled around having a gander in the windows..."ah sure they all have lovely bottoms"
After grabbing some food, it was bar hopping for the afternoon as more Irish fans descended on the city. A lot of Northern Ireland fans were also over the Holland and it's the first time I've ever experienced meeting them at a tournament. The moment you both cross paths is one of the most awkward things ever as neither side knows whether to say hello or give a bit of stick. At least with the English or Scottish you can have a bit of craic but we're a bit in no man's land. Best just give a tip of the hat!
We headed off to O'Reillys to watch the Irish rugby match against South Africa which was pretty immense, before I headed off to meet Sam on the other side of town who was out with friends. After a silent disco watching the sun set (bit random) it was kebab time and then onto a club for some dancing to Bieber. The locals were a bit confused to say the least at the sight of a Paddy decked out in green pumping sweat while spinning around like his life depended on it to Love Yourself!
On to Paris we go!
When the alarm went off at 4am I was up and fully decked out in green head to toe, a bit like Father Dougal in his Ireland kit. After a quick sprint to the aircoach and wandering by far too many Coppers victims mashing into their kebabs, I was in T2 ready to board. The flight itself was jammed with Irish fans and the highlight had to be seeing one of the lads from my football being wheeled onto the plane because of cruciate ligament surgery...talk about dedication to the session!
After landing in the dam it was straight to the hostel to drop the bags and then into the town centre. Faint chants of Ole Ole Ole echoed around the red light district as bemused Irish fans strolled around having a gander in the windows..."ah sure they all have lovely bottoms"
After grabbing some food, it was bar hopping for the afternoon as more Irish fans descended on the city. A lot of Northern Ireland fans were also over the Holland and it's the first time I've ever experienced meeting them at a tournament. The moment you both cross paths is one of the most awkward things ever as neither side knows whether to say hello or give a bit of stick. At least with the English or Scottish you can have a bit of craic but we're a bit in no man's land. Best just give a tip of the hat!
We headed off to O'Reillys to watch the Irish rugby match against South Africa which was pretty immense, before I headed off to meet Sam on the other side of town who was out with friends. After a silent disco watching the sun set (bit random) it was kebab time and then onto a club for some dancing to Bieber. The locals were a bit confused to say the least at the sight of a Paddy decked out in green pumping sweat while spinning around like his life depended on it to Love Yourself!
On to Paris we go!
