WHEN he appeared at the podium, he looked relatively scrubbed. The last vestiges of his trademark beard and fighter’s buzzcut had been studiously replaced with a shorn head and pinstripe green suit. If this was Conor McGregor’s bid to show that he could be in a room with adults, he was alarmingly convincing.
Gone were the trash-talking diatribes and arrogant swagger which had so often characterised his press conferences with opponents. He seemed shy, even deferential, in the face of proximity to the world’s highest office. When he opened his mouth to speak, an army of fans was listening.
For those of us ashamed of McGregor’s conduct as self-appointed Irish ambassador to the world, his appearance at the White House on St. Patrick’s Day was a worrying development. We might have been tempted to laugh it off in WhatsApp group messages and posts on social media were it not for the fact that so many people were convinced by his message.
He indulged in right-wing talking points and critiques of the Irish government’s immigration policy. He rambled in a way that only former sports stars trying to sate their own egos can. But remember how impossible Brexit seemed before 2016. Remember how no one paid attention to Donald Trump’s candidacy until it was already too late.
It doesn’t matter that we think we’re above electing former TV personalities to positions of high office. The mould has been broken by the American president and at home McGregor has repeatedly expressed an interest in running for Áras an Uachtaráin in November.
If he’s serious about this, there will be an uphill battle before his name even appears on the ballot paper. That doesn’t make it impossible, as Donald Trump has shown, since McGregor’s status as an outsider with a litany of questionable behaviour behind him has the potential to be seen as an asset by all the wrong people.
If we’re to ensure he doesn’t have a shot, we need to face him head on. The clock is ticking and November will be here sooner than you think.
