Irish E Are In Disbelief Spokane’s Gee Steals Show In Dublin As Interest In Navy-Notre Dame Lags

Many fans found the cheerleaders and the leprechaun more interesting than the game.

About 20,000 Irish people mixed with another 20,000 devoted Notre Dame and Navy fans in north Dublin’s Croke Park to see the Fighting Irish prevail 54-27 in a contest that few locals understood. It didn’t seem to matter. (See game story, page C5.)

“Excellent!” Tommy Phillips and Jenny McShane said in unison as Notre Dame’s leprechaun mascot did pushups atop a pyramid of cheerleaders following one of the touchdowns.

“I’d be a big fan of American football. I’m not quite sure why they throw all those flags, though,” said Phillips, holding his girlfriend in his arms in Croke Park’s Hill 16, a standing-room section in the north end zone that featured the most raucous and youthful section of fans.

Notre Dame’s sprinting, strutting, sign-waving leprechaun - 21-year-old Ryan Gee from Spokane - was inundated with sincere and strange requests after the game as Dubliners waltzed onto the field.

“Can you get me in to meet the players? Can you get me near them?” asked one middle-aged man. “Can I have your hat? Well your vest then?” asked a teenage girl.

“How do you keep running around like that? Are you on speed or what?” asked Gareth Ringrose, of Leixlip outside Dublin.

Gee had already given away his tie and didn’t want to end up naked, but he did sign autographs and pose for pictures.

“I just couldn’t believe that standing-room-only section,” Gee said of Hill 16, which he sprinted down to command with NOISE and HEY signs throughout the second half. “We didn’t know what to expect, because the Irish are new to American football. But their spirit was incredible.”

The stadium was surrounded by hawkers seeking to cash in. Fortunately the vendor offering “rainjackets for 1 pound” had little business as the stormy skies gave way, against predictions, to spotty sunshine.

The boosters of the Shamrock Classic assumed that the real Irish would want to see a team called the Fighting Irish. Surprisingly, many locals said they favored the underdog Navy, cheering as Midshipmen did pushups in celebration of points scored.

By contrast, many groaned when the Notre Dame band at halftime announced its intention to play a medley of Irish tunes.

“The band there seems to have got a bit mixed up between Scotland and Ireland,” said Clare Connaughton, gesturing to Notre Dame’s six “guards” in long Tartan kilts. “They don’t seem to know their kilts from their Celts.”

Again, feelings for the Fighting Irish seemed to come down to that divisive Leprechaun Issue.

“It’s a bit patronizing having that leprechaun running around in front of us,” said Russell Harris, a high-school teacher in Wicklow south of Dublin.

Harris is an ardent football fan, particularly of the Minnesota Vikings, whose cap he wore. He brought along three friends who had little grasp of the game, and he spent most of the time explaining plays and sending them off for more hot dogs in moments of desperation.

His explanations - of pass interference, of option quarterbacks, of the down system - generally left friend Barry Sheane nodding vacantly.

“This punting thing. Why don’t they just keep the ball?” Sheane asked at one point.

A little later: “They keep bringing in different players and taking others out. I don’t see the point really. Are they so big they get tired easy?”

Again: “I don’t know why they’re called the Fighting Irish. Are they Irish? A lot of them don’t look too Irish. Is it because that leprechaun follows them round wherever they go?”