NFL brings riot of colour and noise to Croke Park as Steelers hold off late Vikings scoring raid

A satellite from Planet America crashed into Dublin 3. The NFL were guests of the State, who had forked out nearly €10 million for the pleasure of their company, and as soon as they arrived, they put their feet up on the couch, as if they owned the joint.

Under orders, Croke Park was gripped in a tight fist of security. At the entrances to Jones’ Road were four layers of manned barricades and a line of pop-up road blockers. There were pods of private security, civilian security, State security, suited security and more security dudes with earpieces than Coppers on All-Ireland night.

They completed their mission. All the gratuitous violence and disorderly conduct was confined to the pitch.

For the GAA, the visit of the Pittsburgh Steelers and the Minnesota Vikings was a whirlwind of time travel and shape shifting. Fifty years to the day after Kerry and Dublin played in one of the most storied All-Ireland finals, Croke Park paraded itself in drag, plastered in vampish lipstick and heavy mascara and big hair.

It is only a matter of weeks since GAA followers got a fit of vapours over the grass being mown in tartan patterns for the All-Ireland finals, but the NFL has no such sensibilities. The stadium glowed like a neon light.

Over the last quarter of a century the NFL has turned itself into a global brand, like one of those homogenised hotel chains. Wherever it is in the world it delivers a familiar experience. Each team franchise has its own personality tics but being at an NFL game has a universal feeling.

American football is made for television, but it is utterly different in the flesh. Every time the broadcast breaks for ads or hands back to the studio, the stadium is alive with stuff that has nothing to do with the ball game. Other sports fancy themselves as theatre; American football is vaudeville.

It is a sonic experience. The noise is never allowed to flag. Clada, from Galway, were the house band for the day, billeted on a stage in front of Hill 16. They kept jumping in with tunes that would fill the dance floor at the end of a wedding. Over the public address, the DJ jumped from Iron Maiden to Neil Diamond, joyriding up and down the musical spectrum.

To please the natives, they rolled out tunes from U2 and The Undertones and The Cranberries and The Dubliners and Van Morrison and Thin Lizzy, all of it in tapas-sized portions. Throughout the game and for a couple of hours before it started the public address was never silent.

After every play, there was a quick summary of what had just happened and who did what, and because it was a Steelers home game, the public address was weaponised against the Vikings. For every Vikings third down, the Steelers crowd was whipped into a wall of noise. For every Steelers first down, the announcer turned into a cheer leader. The crowd was never allowed a moment of quiet reflection.

The Steelers fans wave their yellow towels, known as “terrible towels” – a cross between flags and scarves in our terrace culture – and make a cacophonous racket. The spectacle was showy and somewhat choreographed but there was nothing counterfeit about the energy in the stadium. When the Steelers’ TJ Watt made an interception in the third quarter, Croke Park exploded like it would on All-Ireland final day.

The game turned into a cliffhanger. The Steelers led 24-6 early in the fourth quarter, but the Vikings came up with two touchdowns and a two-point conversion to cut the deficit to three points with three minutes and 28 seconds to go.

At least, that’s what it said on the game clock. In American football, time disappears into a black hole in the closing minutes of a tight game. Seconds are rolled and stretched like pizza dough.

The Steelers marched down to the red zone and gambled on going for a touchdown from a yard short on fourth down. The field goal team was about to come on when Aaron Rodgers sent them away. The Vikings knocked them back, which left them about a minute to get into field-goal range and force overtime. It was an eternity if they could string a few downs together; they couldn’t.

Rodgers – whose crackpot pronouncements on a variety of subjects has made him one of most reviled figures in the NFL – threw for 200 yards and made one touchdown pass, but he was overshadowed by his opposite number Carson Wentz, who threw for 350 yards and two touchdowns.

Rodgers, though, has been around the elite end of the game for so long that, in his 21st season, he keeps hitting personal milestones. Before half-time, he had jumped into sixth place for all-time passing yardage and to number one on the most touchdown completions from over 50 yards. Somebody is counting this stuff.

The crowd was told straight away. They came to cheer. Not a second to waste.

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