Billy Keane: Vintage Bordeaux as the sun shone on the underdogs

The old year is in its last day and the New Year is ready and waiting. Men and women who never get kisses will be kissed tonight. Love is in the air and the New Year is the time for renewing our vows to make the most of our lives.

And if you've had an annus horribilis well then one second after midnight will be a welcome release. But the triumph of mankind is our ability to overcome adversity, no matter what.

In sport this was the year of the underdog. As for life in general well then the underdog is still the underdog.

Connacht, Leicester and the Irish rugby team were the underdogs who won. Apart from Leinster folk, we were all Connacht for a day but Pat Lam is on his way to Bristol where the big money on offer will secure his family's future.

A manager's career is most precarious. The manager's job is the only one I know of where you can get sacked even though you are working for free. GAA managers are often shown the door by their own players which is also unique in that the disgruntled employees get to fire their bosses.

So we come to the prize without a trophy. Manager of the year could easily go to Pat Lam or Jim Gavin or Martin O'Neill.

Connacht were exciting and daring. The men of the west were always wide awake. Connacht ran the ball from places that far from the opposition try-line, the posts seemed no taller than matchsticks.

Dublin are the most resilient team I have ever seen. Jim Gavin is a planner and his Dublin side have proven All-Irelands can be won by attacking teams. Gavin saved the game. Yet there is still that niggle that grates in that Dublin play all their games at home. To be fair Dublin would win most if not all away games anyway as they are the best team in Ireland. But the Croke Park residency is unfair and is all about money.

Martin O'Neill just knows the game inside out. It's as simple as that. He gambled on Roy Keane and it paid off. Martin tailors the game plan to fit in with our national psyche. Trap had us sit back in the castle waiting for the siege and we were slaughtered. O'Neill's teams defend and harry all over the pitch. Ireland play like raparees with rapiers. Some of our goals were works of art. Even though we lost in Bordeaux I have never enjoyed a weekend like it.

We were in the Rue de something singing and drinking with the Belgian fans for hours and hours. Then as if they were called home by Cinderella's aunt all the Belgians disappeared. But the Irish kept on going and there was surely five thousand of us partying away in the biggest night club I was ever in. A googley-eyed anthropologist spying from some far distant planet would surely have logged an Irish win.

There was always the danger of a terrorist attack. The security was a disaster but we danced and sang the night away. The party was a victory in itself over an evil enemy who could never comprehend our joie de vivre.

But the winner this year, and I am unanimous, is Joe Schmidt. The victory over the All Blacks in Soldier Field put an end to more than a century of misery and hard luck. An obelisk will have to be built with Joe on the top part where the pigeons stop for a rest.

It was the day Jonathan Sexton said goodbye to the pain of a missed kick. Long Johnny Silver played on one leg for an hour in Soldier Field and he was magnificent. On came Joey who was that young-looking there was always the danger the stadium announcer would ask Mr and Mrs Carbery to collect their son at the back of the stand. Joey was as calm as a lullaby. There was no weak link. Near the end it seemed as if the All Blacks were about to pass us out, as they usually do.

I left the sitting room. Couldn't bear to watch. There I was sitting on the bed thinking I would never get to see us beat New Zealand in my lifetime. The young lad and the son-in-law to-be came in and said "we're getting on top, come on".

I watch the replay every Monday when the house is quiet. Joe Schmidt has us figured out as a people. He knows we need to be boosted not by blather but by hard work and planning. Courage was always a given. Joe played a full-on game at the end of big training sessions for about eight or nine minutes. The players were already exhausted and so they learned how to play when drained. The Irish team finished stronger than the All Blacks. The game at the end of the training session had us mentally ready. He's smart is Joe.

Our overall sports star of the year is Annalise Murphy. Annalise came back from a fourth in London to claim silver in Rio. Redemption and glory were hers as she walked on water and danced a tango on the Copacabana.

And what about the nations' favourite boy band? The O'Donovan brothers from Skib are the talk of the country. Their expression "pull like a dog" has now entered the lexicon. The O'Donovans bring their own sunshine and are stand-up men as well as stand-up comedians. The boys win the brothers competition and male sports stars.

Our Forever award goes to Olive and Brendan Foley. One-hundred-thousand people passed through the Thomond turnstiles over four games.

Munster were in financial difficulties and the team now understand the level of commitment is total.

But this was more than rugby. The Foleys' annus horribilis produced a miracle. So many grieved. So many stood by the family. So many learned not to judge a man too harshly until you know the whole story.

Olive's love poem to her husband in Killaloe Parish church was beautiful. We were inspired and enriched. Love, compassion, decency, grit and bravery came back in to fashion. Olive set the moral compass for a nation.

I received a letter in the post a few weeks ago. It was a lovely letter and I put it away somewhere safe until I figured how to reply to the lady who wrote it. Never hide anything somewhere safe. I lost the letter. Inside was a laminated quote. I kept the laminate in my pocket. The words of wisdom are from St John Chrysostom who lived in the fourth century.

St John's words gave me great comfort. I'm thinking now on this the last day of 2016 of my mother Mary, Dad, of Axel and those we love who died.

The one we loved and lose is no longer

Where she was before

Now she is wherever we are