Trip of a lifetime

DUBLIN – The throng of about 350 waiting to board the Airbus 330 started chanting … "We are … Penn State …" while still at Gate 403 in the US Airways terminal in Philadelphia. It was Wednesday night and the beginning of an adventure for a family of three that started out blue and white and found its pot of gold.

We came to Ireland to see Penn State play Central Florida in the preseason matchup that was a substitute for a bowl game lost because of the Sandusky sanctions. But we also came because "We are … Irish … " and there are generations of family in the faces of the people walking the streets and taking the ferry and hopping on and off the trolleys in downtown Dublin.

And what we found, as we spent a lifetime in four days, was that it was a small world, too.

The River Liffey splits the city in half, with walking bridges about five blocks apart, almost mirroring the trolley. The Samuel Beckett bridge was framed like a magnificent modern ship. (We are all born mad … I remain so.) A replica of the Famine Ship, the Jeanie Johnston, is in plain view right next to it on the river. The original ship made 16 emigrant voyages from 1847-1855 with no loss of life. My great grand uncle, Patrick Farrington, escaped the famine but joined the North in the Civil War and died at Gettysburg. The next bridge was named after Sean O'Casey, playwright and noted socialist. It was austere, same as the weather.

The spirit of the Irish people resonates everywhere.

There was no shortage of quick-witted quips from the locals, who had endless smiles. One vendor at the George's Street Arcade was interrogating this New York-born Irish American as he tried peddling a Croke Classic t-shirt. After pitching that it was 100 percent cotton, best threads in the city, he asked why it was my first time in the mother country.

"You can't be a true Irishman if this is your first time," he said. "What possibly could be the reason?"

"I didn't have any money."

Then he laughed.

"You are a 100 percent Irish."

Downtown Dublin was percolating as the throng expected the Friday Penn State pep rally (tour brochure says 4:45 start, good luck). At 4:40, the band shell was empty at Temple Bar Street. More than a few hundred Blueshirts were still milling around.

"Where's the Blue Band?" I asked.

"Sorry," said the security guard with a straight face. "They couldn't wait for you any longer …"

Everyone laughed and no one cared because we weren't in downtown State College. There was a stream of street musicians, Irish dancers, off key rock and roll lads and a line around every block near a pub that hoisted pints of Guinness. Only here were the lines at Starbucks short (but you needed a four-digit code for the rest room).

At the R.A.G.E. record store on Fade Street, right off Drury, my 13-year-old son Jack zeroed in on the stacks of vinyl records and old-school Game Boys. The person behind the counter asked where we were from. "South Jersey and Philly."

The 28-year-old Irishman who has his own band said, "Oh my girlfriend is from South Philly …"

We dined around the corner at Little Miss Sue's, a trendy and spectacular seafood restaurant. Our waiter Aidan wanted to know everything about … the Toronto Blue Jays? He's from Canada and has the mlb.tv app and has a PlayStation 3 and tell me have you seen Marcus Stroman pitch? And how about Brandon Morrow …? I excused myself and headed for the unisex rest room. It was shrouded in candle light and patchouli. I thought I was peeing at a séance.

We found our way back to the Luas trolley headed toward the Point, where the O2 arena, a 14,500-capacity amphitheatre located at North Wall Quay. I think it's already been renamed the 3Arena. The Irish move quick.

Saturday morning came fast as the spaceship containing blue and white clad aliens descended on Croke Park, transporting what seemed like 500 tour buses. The emerging crowd engulfed the streets surrounding this massive edifice that houses Gaelic football, hurling, rugby, soccer but only American Football for the second time in its three-century history. The park is located in a residential neighborhood. One bleary-eyed grandmother emerged beyond her white-laced curtains and warily stared at the spectacle of the moving blue and white worm as it worked its way around cars, buses and vendors.

The locals were still smarting from not having the all-Irish football semifinal, which was relegated to the Gaelic Grounds. It was akin to moving an Eagles game from Lincoln Financial Field to PPL Park. Kerry beat Mayo, 3-16 to 3-13. The contest got 14 full pages of color in the Sunday Irish Mail. Penn State-Central Florida barely got half a page, with a few disclaimers besides. Newspapers are not dying in Ireland.

You think the Philadelphia media is tough … Here is the headline on Joe Brolly's column about the losing County Mayo brigade:

Mayo should just give it up – they will never have the ruthlessness to become champions

The fans blindly followed tour guides or whomever happened to be in front of them, until they dodged the final knock-off merchandise, of which, hats, t-shirts, sweatshirts and of course scarves (in August), which seemed appropriate for while it steamed in the 90s back home, it was a steady mix of clouds, mist, occasional raindrops and a cool, slightly windy 70 degrees Fahrenheit.

One side housed quite a contingent of the faithful from Central Florida, wearing gold and white, that were relatively invisible during the previous four days on the streets of Dublin. Before the game, two skydivers, one for each team, headed toward the stadium. The Penn State parachutist made it clean but the Gold and white airman wound up on the train tracks a ways behind the stadium near the Royal Canal. Quick work saved him from the 1:15 out of Dublin. Two American F-16 fighter jets roared above the stadium before kickoff. It raised the dead.

Once inside the stadium, the Guinness was flowing, and nearly everyone had their hands-full. They were selling half pints, too, but that only served to make a return trip even quicker.

The men's room was austere, but showed the blending of old and new technology, porcelain troughs from the 1950s on one side, and brand new spanking shining steel troughs on the other. The line moved like a snake, see a spot and jump right in.

On the food line, everyone had a tale of where they were that week, or the week before, or where they're headed next. One family of seven had rented a car and spent seven days traveling the countryside before heading to the game. The mom said they watched Mo'ne Davis and Taney somewhere along the way and that Kai Cummings was a friend of her son's and he has been in the house all the time.

So while it was a small world in the small world of the traveling blue, the rest of Dublin eyed the event with curiosity. "You here for the American Football game?" was the usual question. I couldn't help but think the next question which was never asked was; "What the hell is American football anyway?"

The game swayed back and forth, Penn State dominating but Central Florida hanging around, hanging around … the clock didn't always stop on first downs or when someone ran out of bounds, and the public address announcer was blaring out normal in-game Central Florida programming in between plays, about 30 decibels too high and only making it seem even more surreal.

When Central Florida marched down the field and scored a touchdown with a minute left, who ran on the field for the potential deciding extra point but Sean Galvin, a Cork native. He drilled it and looked to be the hero if only for a moment when Penn State's Sam Ficken kicked a 36-yard field goal with no time left to give the Nittany Lions a 26-24 season-opening victory before the crowd of more than 53,000.

The fans left happy, doubled down for one last night on the town. Then they checked out, traded in their euros for dollars and queued up for the flights home. I have two Irish electrical outlet adaptors, purchased in a soda vending machine for 13 euros, and will take best offer.

If the rest of this week is any indication, Penn State could be sleep walking a bit Saturday at home against Akron.

Over the week, the point spread has dropped by 19 to 14, and I say that line came from Paddies the Bookmaker in Dublin.

We left home in Mullica Hill on Wednesday, to go home to Ireland, and then returned home to Philadelphia on Sunday.

We will be back. (If we can get the money.)