One Saturday afternoon a long time ago in a land far away a young Irish (good looking) teenager had the choice of spending his 50 pence to see a new Dublin band or pay a little less for some hot sugar encrusted batter balls. The venue; a dilapidated street corner called the Dandelion market. An abandoned city block that flanked the north edge of St Stephen’s green. A well decayed corpse of brick and mortar filled with the aroma of damp, cigarettes and patchouli oil.

There was a chill in the air; the rain fell sporadically and with irritating regularity on the rusted limp corrugated roof. Trudging through the soggy market, the strains of music and chatter mingled with the shuffle of feet on broken concrete. In the end, the food won, the band wasn’t that good anyway. He decided he’d see them again another time.

Fast forward twenty years. The venue Joe Robbie Stadium in Miami, the teenager now a (good looking) adult, father of five, married to a hottie he’d met shortly after the Dandelion incident finally got to see the band again. Arriving in a badly-fogged stretch limo, this time he had paid $150 a ticket to see the band. I am referring of course to the Irish band, U2.

Even if you didn’t like U2, you’d have left impressed as much with the music, as with the bands effort and humility. And an amazing stage show. Bono made the point of thanking the audience for their continuing support – a touch not lost on this member.

Bono and I share one thing in common; we’re both Irish. I was born a redneck, he a true Dubliner. He was destined for greatness; I, well, history is still being written. Be that as it may, U2, and their behind the scenes manager Paul McGuiness, did more than produce great music.

They represented a country that was wallowing in the morass of a sad and sullen history, a sodden weighted economy and relative anonymity in a fast-paced world. U2 single handedly brought this country from the shadows to the main-stage in a matter of 13 years. How? Let me explain.

Ireland’s best ambassadors have not been those of a diplomatic bent, despite their attempts to intellectualize their claim to fame. Nor have they been the State representatives traveling the world over-pitching industrialists for investment into Ireland’s eager, educated (if worldly naïve) workforce.

Those successful emissaries to whom I refer are the musicians, who, over a period of thirty years, showed the world that Ireland was capable of competing on the most important stage of all and of becoming an economic flytrap through the booming culture of rock and roll.

Starting with Rory Gallagher, who is reputed to have sold his Donegal soul to the Devil to play the blues, Ireland took its tentative steps into the world. Followed by Van (the Man) Morrison from Belfast, who’s crooning still graces the airwaves, he broke into the most important market of all, America.

Who can forget the rock engine that was Phil ‘Rosin Dubh’ (Black Rose) Lynott and Thin Lizzy? A bedraggled group of insecure musicians, who became the dueling guitar powerhouse, known the world over. During the 1970s this mega-success culminated with their important lesson in ‘how to do’ live albums, “Live and Dangerous,’ still capable of raising the hairs on a dead man’s neck; an album and band whose rhythmic influence still echoes through bands today.

Then came U2. Initially a lost cause, by this writer’s initial first impression, they got a world class manager and great producers. U2 came from the dark, damp back alleys of Dublin to become – undoubtedly - the best band in the world, and one of the most influential in music history.

They were known before they became famous thanks to the strategy that their manager Paul McGuiness put into place early on. He had the band play all over US, from one horse towns to big cities. The art of his deal was that when U2 finally broke into the mainstream, they already had a fan base who lofted them to the dizzying heights of superstardom practically overnight. That’s not to say that the depth of their talent and music had nothing to do with it, it did. McGuiness’s plan was the sling shot to success. And that’s why he’s regarded as the fifth member of the band.

So what does a musical five-some have to do with Ireland’s economic emergence? Everything.

U2's audience was wide-ranging demographically and geographically. Their music swelled the hearts of listeners of Irish descent; their dedication to Martin Luther King Jr. ('In the name of Love') rang clear when the first waves of political correctness were washing ashore. Unapologetic, with the steadfastness of youth, Bono stood and used his stage for righteous causes bringing attention to the downtrodden and in doing so highlighted the most downtrodden of all, the country of his origin.

Fans on the boards of directors over the US reacted. They overcame the reluctance to relocate to a geographically and technologically isolated country which was viewed then through the lingering lens of 'Paddy' prejudice, and acted on the basis that if U2 was representative of people there, it couldn’t be all bad. That and a unique 12% corporate tax rate.

Sure, River Dance (the art of the mime), followed quickly bringing another shot in the heart of Irelands popularity, but it was the icing on the cake; perhaps even the sprinkles. U2 had done all the work.

Encouraged by U2’s success, more talent greased the economic and image skids of Ireland in the early 1990s. The Cranberries (‘Linger’), the Coors (“Breathless”) the girls graced many a “would shag” list. Sinead O Connor, who’s dusty MTV award graces Hourican's Pub on Lower Leeson Street, would have been a colossal pro-Ireland lever but for her insanity and self destructive instincts that cut short her US career.

Throughout it all, pulsed the artery that is U2. Solid and steady, they gave Irelands maturing world image a framework for the vine to grow upon. They were cool; they produced hit after hit, filled stadiums and the fans never tired of their evolving musical style.

And into Ireland flowed the money transforming Dublin from a dirty drunken paradise into a modern drunken paradise where people were, at last, proud to be from and more importantly to go to. Although this was not new for U2; they were Dublin men through and through. In came Dell, Intel and a plethora of financial and industrial giants transforming the small country into the place to be.

From 1995 through 2007 Ireland – Dublin - was probably the best place in Europe to visit. In my mind it will always be. It was hip, hopping and happening (Jesus). Times have changed as the world enters a recession but that was nothing to do with U2. (The ‘boy band’ WestLife perhaps can take the blame, but not the lads from Dublin’s Northside)

U2 have been distinctly denied the credit for all they had done; turning a banana republic into a modern economy and country to be reckoned with. That needs to be rectified immediately.

A bronze statue, something subtle, similar in size perhaps to the Iwo Jima monument in Washington DC, is needed honoring this great band.

It should be placed adjacent to the Central Bank or perhaps in the forecourt of the Government offices in Kildare Street in Dublin to remind politicians, business men and passers-by who it really was that dragged the hissing kitten that was to become the Celtic Tiger into the open and ushered Ireland into the modern world.