Nov 26
Paul Butler
feedback No Comments »…its great finally having some ‘cool’ gaa gear to wear…
This week in Talking Balls we salute Gemma Begley for winning her Ladies football All Star. This brings to a grand total of TWO the number of All stars awarded to the young womenfolk of Ulster by the selectors of the camogie and football awards.
And I think we need to come out and say that the camogie hierarchy led by Queen Liza herself are quite arrogant and patronising - are we happy Liz? No we’re not.
We look back at some of the issues of the week - Sport Tracker is coming - as is GPA monitoring of players. Your car SatNav will soon be able to detect any county players in the area and whether they are training or on the beer. Take note.
This week Ger takes on a new job - we’ll see how long that lasts but so far he’s impressed with what he saw. Thanks to Aidan Campbell for spotting our balls up last week.
If you think you’ve problems you only think you have. For everyone else, there’s always Talking Balls.
The Ulster Council have proven themselves to be ahead of the pack in many respects in their approach to adding a more scientific approach to playing and preparation, coaching and coaching the coaches.
Talking Balls then raised an eyebrow at news that the Comhairle Uladh folks are set to introduce GPS technology to track players’ movements. Ah-ha thought Talking Balls - no longer will county managers worry about the movements of the wayward forward genius who likes to score on and off the field and refuel courtesy of Arthur Guinness. A sample print out would reveal he moved to the bar at about ten thirty to sink a few quick ones, on to the dance floor maybe for a few minutes before indeterminate moves to the bar and the bog in an endless triangle. Then outside to the kebab shop, then back to an unknown address where the GPS system records some up and down movement for a few minutes - followed by rest.
Much to our disappointment however the tracking will only be used on the field of play. Although it is believed Ulster Council guru Dr Eugene Young is believed to agree that players’ off field antics can be the contribute to poor on field play, there are no plans just yet to introduce the system for après match engagements.
If they do… you heard it here first. Talking Balls has acquired one of the kits and will be trying out in the coming weeks. If we get any results you, reader, will be the first to hear.
News emerged last week that during the Mayobridge v Dromore Ulster Championship replay one of the Dromore players let himself down big style.
According to a report in the Irish News’ Off the Fence Column, the unnamed Dromore defender grabbed Benny Coulter’s gumshield from his hand, stuck it down his groin area and rubbed it around before handing it back to Benny. We don’t know what Coulter said when he received this unusual gift but it was unlikely to be thanks.
If this is true, then this plumbs a new low in behaviour on the field of play. If the lad that did that thinks that is the way to be conducting himself on a pitch then Talking Balls really feels he should be doing something else with his time.
It wasn’t Benny Coulter that was left with a bad taste in his mouth…
The media is carrying reports of the new Sport Tracker products which it is suggested will improve the monitoring and analysis of players the length and breadth of Ireland. If like Talking Balls’ coaching associates you reply on a battered notebook and maybe a few crumpled bits of paper that you fold deep into a pocket on match day for your analysis - only for them to get soaked - then this may be just the job for you.
And we can exclusively reveal that Talking Balls resident expert Ger Manas may be in delicate negotiations with Sport Tracker to produce a handbook of tips and techniques for pre match motivation and half-time blood and thunder. Ger has been committing his most effective talks and techniques onto paper and it is believed this could be a valuable resource to any manager stuck for words at half time no matter what the occasion.
SportTracker has received the official endorsement of the Gaelic Athletic Association, and is seeking to partner GAA teams, managers, players and administrators through its range of products. The company has also announced the appointment of two-time All-Ireland winning manager and former Irish team manager, Pete McGrath from County Down, as the company’s full-time Technical Director for its family of books and growing product range. Pete’s already started providing some helpful hints and ideas via their website.
Talking Balls Link: www.sporttracker.ie
And, at the end of this month they will launch the ‘Tracker Player’s Diary 2008′, billed as a unique and ground-breaking publication in Irish sport. The 200-page plus book in which two-time Tyrone All-Ireland winning manager Mickey Harte provides his guidance and services to Gaelic footballers, hurlers and camogie players - at club and county level - throughout the country will be officially launched by an Uachtarain, Nickey Brennan in Croke Park.
I bet the GPA wish they could have thought of this one first but sure at least someone’s making a few euro somewhere!
Gaelic and athletic teams are notorious for recalling ancient events real or imagined that have cast a slight on the virility/pride/womanhood or whatever over one parish.
It can be the failure to provide a guard of honour, one player tousling the hair of another after a particularly rousing score or just a plain old fashioned hammering.
It was great therefore yesterday to hear Pad Joe Whelahan, manager of the mighty Birr talking about revenge after taking a timbering from Ballyhale Shamrocks in last years Leinster provincial decider. In these days of focus and preparation, routines and sports psychologists, it’s refreshing to hear the old mentality: ‘lads let’s go out and bate these hoors. Ye don’t forget now what they did to us last year, so if its with your f***in dyin’ breath you stop the Shamrocks man clearing that ball…Remember last year, last year.”
Sez Pad Joe: The day I walked out of Portlaoise last year, this was my aim … to get back at Ballyhale. They beat us by 12 or 14 points and it hurt. I was sitting in the stand and I said to myself, ‘it will never happen again!’ That was one of the main reasons when I came back - to bring Birr back up to where they belong.”
Son Brian added: “This was a huge game for Birr. We wanted to atone for last year’s humiliating defeat. Last year it was a case with 20 minutes to go that the game was over and people were leaving the ground. From our point of view that was very disappointing. We knew we had a great chance today. Any team that’s short the best hurler in the country in Henry Shefflin and definitely the best young hurler in the country last year in Cha Fitzpatrick…..”
Who would bet against Birr driving on and taking their Leinster crown back when they meet Ballyboden St Endas? Well the Dublin men will - what an achievement for them to make it to a Leinster final - let’s hope it isn’t a damp squib.
Just in case you haven’t seen any of these results…
Sunday 18 November
Leinster club SFC quarter-finals replays
Dromard (Longford) 0-12 Moorefield (Kildare) 0-12 aet
St. Vincent’s (Dublin) 0-12 Seneschalstown (Meath) 0-10
Ulster club SFC semi-finals
St. Gall’s (Antrim) 0-11 Glenullin (Derry) 0-7
Crossmaglen Rangers (Armagh) 2-6 Dromore (Tyrone) 0-11
Connacht club SHC final
Portumna (Galway) 6-23 Ballina James Stephens (Mayo) 0-7
Leinster club SHC semi-finals
Birr (Offaly) 1-13 Ballyhale Shamrocks (Kilkenny) 1-10
Ballyboden (Dublin) 2-9 Camross (Laois) 1-11
Munster club SHC semi-finals
Loughmore-Castleiney (Tipperary) 1-15 Adare (Limerick) 1-10
Tulla (Clare) 2-13 Ballyduff Upper (Waterford) 0-14
As the GPA, the Gaelic and Athletic authorities and the government carry on their ménage a trios over the vexed questions of grants for players, Leinster Chairman Liam O’Neill has fairly set the cat among the geese by suggesting the money doesn’t actually exist.
Since Fianna Fail is involved in the matter, is this another case of now you see it now you don’t? At any stage in the discussions has either Donal Og or Dessie actually said to the PTB show us the money. Talking Balls is very concerned.
With an insouciance associated with a Mahon Tribunal judge Liam pronounced:
“I have always had a sneaky feeling that this money does not really exist that it was notional. For three years we’ve been fighting about something that’s never substantiated. Has anybody seen this money? Does it exist in reality? Is it a once off? Is it over a number of years? There are legitimate questions that are out there now. People are wondering about the details.”
Is this then the reason for the obfuscation (now there’s a word…). Are the government lads sitting there saying to one another, “How are we going to tell these fellas that there is no money, Jaysus that lad Cusack will go mental. He’s bad enough with them red eyes he has.”
As if our referees don’t have enough to worry about, apparently now the powers that be are parachuting in the FIFA referee fitness test which apparently is some sort of gold standard. Not that this will prevents some of the problems that blight games year in year out.
Essentially the test is broken down into the following sectors: referees must cover 150m in 30 seconds, then they have 35 seconds to cover 50m walking as they recover. On the next whistle, they must again run 150m in 30 seconds, followed by another 50m walking in 35 seconds. That circuit constitutes one lap. The bad news for the referees is that they have to cover 10 of those laps in rapid fire succession.
Reaction to the new system was mixed. A number of referees were happy with the challenge but others were less convinced.
“You’d want to start training now to be ready for the test in March,” said one GAA match official. “I’ve no problem training and doing the required work but you’d want to be out every night getting ready for this and I just don’t have the time for that. Fine, it’s something to aspire to but FIFA referees are professional; they get €1,500 a match and a match fee on top of that — we all have day jobs, we get 50 cent a mile and €30 meal allowance. There’s a fair difference there.”
Another maybe said: “Is there anything in there about fellas slabbering their load at ye and managers slaggin ye off after a game. Or disciplinary committees changing your decision off the pitch, or the DRA making a shite of the whole rulebook. These are the issues we need resolution on and by the looks of this we ain’t gonna get it.”
At least Pat McEneaney knows he might be in the frame for next year’s Champions League final so empty the tank Pat.
This week Resident Expert Ger Manas was called in by one club team - a sleeping giant as they described themselves - to give some insight on how they should prepare for the season ahead. With a few young turks and some big ideas, old school can mix with science and produce some interesting results.
I got a shout there a week or two back from a crowd that I always thought were full of more shite than a full slurry tank - all wind and piss. They had some of the foulest mouthed boyos used te play for them and they were into that how’s yer ma shite until one of our fellas toul this hardy big hoor he’d been at his da the night before. I’ll never forget the look on his face. Any way, when the boyo that rang me started to chat about Aileen. I thought it was some yoke I maybe courted way back but he meant they were ailing. Sounded more like a sick calf to me but anyway.
The problem that these boys have is that they have a club secretary that’s like any club secretary - it’s their way or the highway. They pick the shirts, railroad meetings, pick on underage managers - why’s that young fella bein’ tuk af? And all that shite. These lads anyway had a bit of a coup - they’ve been shite for years and this time finally they got relegated. They’ve had some of the big shot managers doing the rounds taking the dough but not bakin’ the bread with the result that some of the in-house lads have said f*** that. Wan’s emigrated, another’s off himself coaching their biggest rivals - meanwhile our Secretary fella rearranges the deckchairs as the boat goes down.
They’ve a young lad - PE teacher fella - who’s fit te burst with new ideas - the other lads like him and respect him but the only way they could get him leveraged in was to get some dopey oul bollix to be the other part of the deal - enter moi as the frenchies say. Course no-one in their right mind would want that job - what is they say no power and all the responsibility - bit like that oul fella Booby Robson in the soccer an’ him dotin’ God Love him. One of the nephews knew these lads at college so he says to the fellas in the club - Uncle Ger’ll help him out - he won’t give a shite about all that politickin’. Course he never bothered his hole checkin with me first so the next thing I knew I was bein’ rung up by these boys tellin’ me who’d I think I was. The young lad set to coach tho’ I met him at a championship match there - rather than go down and hang round their club and look like a prick I listened to what he said and altho’ he was a bit new fangled and a bit scientific - depth, penetration all that shite - sounded like an oul porno film some of the University fellas in Dublin used to have - I thought this boy’s a right fella.
Anyway I decided to give him a go for the craic if it got him over the hump. Well you talk about craic!
I arrived down to the field - under lights it was and a good enough wee set up. It was due to start up at 7.30 - I was there about ten past to get the wellies on and one thing and another. Next things these hoors comes burstin’ out of the changin’ rooms all dressed in lime green shirts with their names on the back and blue shiny shorts. They went hoorin’ straight onto the field and began the most f***in elaborate routine ye ever saw. I was f***in gobsmacked. The next thing this oul bollix comes up to me and hands me a brown envelope. There’s your money - count it and if ye need more we’ll sort ye out next week. I looked inside and there were more notes than a f***in Beethoven album. ‘Houl on boss,’ sez I ‘I didn’t ask for this and it’s not why I’m here.”
“Well,” sez yer fella, “every other useless bollix we ever brought in needed a brown envelope before he did anything, and I’m sure you’re no different a useless bollix.” Was going to drop him there and then but thought better of it for once.
Well, I give the thing back to him there and then - I wasn’t plannin’ on stayin around much but was only given the young lad a dig out. By the time I made it onto the pitch yer boy has them in contortions stretching this was and that dodgin’ about like they were about to get hit by Marvin Hagler. Whatever this fella had these boys on, they were mad for it. I dunno if it was the science or the fact he was from their own club or what but they were the gamest lookin’ group of fellas. He sez “this is Ger Manas he’s goin’ to be helping out with motivation, focus and patterns of play. Also maybe we need to work on our width depth and penetration.” There we go thinks I to mesel’ the ‘p’ word again.
“Lads,” sez I ” Paddy here knows his stuff - I’ve seen enough in ten minutes to know that but for the length of time I’m involved here if anyone isn’t interested they’ll get a boot in the hole from me they’ll never forget. Ye can have all the fancy gear and big ideas ye like but if ye don’t want to win then you might as well wear yer wife’s nightshirt. Anyone want to f*** away of now save annoyin’ us later in the year?” Nope.
I watched yer man Paddy then the rest of the session, he had boys flyin’ round the place, balls going every road and twas f***in great. Afterwards he had them drinkin’ soup and atin’ sandwiches and slooshin’ about with that club energy-wise stuff that tastes f***in rank but is supposed to be good for ye. Paddy asks me then did I get me cash and he wanted to make sure that like the other boys and the physios I got paid. I tould him straight - I would come up anytime to dig him out but I wasn’t lookin a big or even a wee envelope stuffed with cash whatever he was getting’ himself was up to him. He looked a bit shocked. He sez, “I was tould you needed a few things to keep the wife happy.” Ha.
Little did he know, what I need to keep the wife happy is no w***ers on the team, fellas that play the game the way it’s supposed to be played, boys that don’t slabber and don’t f*** off the opposition with trashy oul chat. What I need is players that don’t think because they’s been up to county trial or sniffed round the edge of the subs bench in Croker or Clones or Thurles that they’re better than everyone else. I know when boys has the right stuff - the full package Mickey Harte calls it and he’s right. The wife likes it when I come home happy and that’s when she knows we’ve a good bunch of lads - it’s when I don’t come home happy each night. She tells me “Ger when you’re gone I’ll miss ye, but not on the days when you’re a grumpy bollix - them’s not the days when ye get bate but the day a fella or a girl lets ye down.”
Boys like this fella Paddy will let no-one down with their new fangled ideas - provided there’s some other boy like mesel there ready to administer the boot when it’s needed. So long as boys remember that ther’ll be no problem at all.
This week in Talking Balls we’re back at our new time and day and that’s Monday. The office was quiet today - our team just about made it back from the Camogie All Stars. They were up all night a-cavortin’ with the contenders and the winners. The do was sponsored by Club Energise which they now swear is the best hangover cure on the market. A number of players asked to be sponsored by Talking Balls next year but we are still in two minds about those sorts of proposals - some quite frankly were indecent.
This week, we are sort of ignoring the GPA strike because despite all the huffing and puffing, we actually don’t think it will happen. There is enough wriggle room between now and January and as well as that, the players would suffer severe collateral damage to their reputations if they go ahead.
As the Office WAG said there, what would you bollixes write about if there’s a strike and sure we said that wouldn’t stop the nonsense we spew out week in week out. Sure nothing else has.
Billy Morgan has announced he won’t be considering managing Cork - who will we wonder. Can they do any worse in an All Ireland Final under anyone else. We consider the fall out in the well organised Leinster championship and we wonder how can refs get things so wrong. Controversial pundit Eugene McGee has found an interesting DRA decision that could open the biggest can of words yet - is gaelic the lingua franca of the association or is it now its Achilles heel. We don’t know but neither does anyone else.
If you’ve got a hangover - try club energise. For everything else, there’s always Talking Balls.
Cork legend Billy has announced he won’t be going forward again to manage the Rebels, citing the new regulations introduced that state that the manager can’t choose his own selectors. Sez the boul Billy:
“I am not allowing my name into the frame again because I could not accept the job whereby I could not select the people that I would want to assist me. I believe that the county board took a step backwards by taking that decision. There’s no way that I would return to the job of managing Cork under those circumstances.”
Talking Balls reckons he’s got a point. In reading Michael Foley’s compelling account of Offaly’s rise to prominence in the early eighties he recounts the selectorial committee meeting on the sideline in Croker that led to Seamus Darby’s moment of history. One that day there was a split decision with the preference for experience meaning Darby got the nod, the goal, the plaudits and all the drunks in bars worldwide dosin’ him for the rest of his days.
Counties like Cork have always seemed to have a preference for selectors - maybe given the sheer number of clubs and players they want to be seen to be fair but to us it always seemed to be a recipe for indecision. Just think about it - four or five men of Cork, each of them talking about football, each one thinking he was right. Sure jaze that would a pioneer to drink. No wonder that Billy has hit the ejector seat.
Meanwhile his former charges have predictably come out in praise. Said captain Derek Kavanagh about his fellow Nemo clubman:
“Nobody is going to be able to fill Billy’s boots in terms of passion and commitment, so we need someone with a different angle and their own ideas. The situation with the selectors is going to make it difficult because it has already ruled out Billy and others won’t be interested because a manager needs to lead, with his selectors helping him. The buck stops with the manager.”
“We’ve come a long way but we’re still short of winning an All-Ireland. It’s very important we get the right man in now and that could be difficult.”
“We’re getting back to where we should be. Some of Billy’s training sessions were unreal and the passion of his pre-match speeches couldn’t be matched. Certainly he was the driving force of my career, going back to 1999 when I was just an average minor and he stuck me in at full-back with the Nemo minors. It’s going to be strange without him.”
Twill certainly be a much quieter place. The Examiner reporters are reportedly relieved that no longer will the their pens, notebooks, pdas, phones, Dictaphones and other journalistic accoutrements be subject to thrusting down the front of Billy’s trunks. Very crowd has a silver lining. It must be like the New York City dump down there after Billy’s finished with an interview.
Mad looking wingback Noel O’Leary wore his big manlove on his leave saying:
“I genuinely thought there wasn’t another man in Cork like him, his passion… was unbelievable. I think that’s the biggest compliment I can pay to him. I don’t think Cork people will see his likes against him in a Cork footballing context - I know I certainly won’t.”
A new highly militant body is threatening the future of gaelic games. The influential Gaelic Parents Association (GPA - and before you ask no relation to that other crowd they tell us) have threatened to withdraw their services from gaelic games. In what could be a crushing blow for games up and down the country everywhere, the Gaelic Parents have come out and issued a series of perfectly reasonable demands. A spokeswoman said:
“We have been painted as the bad guys and girls for far too long and we’re sick of it. We run these players to matches week in week out and then when we open our mouths at matches we are criticized for being ‘pushy’. It’s not feckin’ well on. We make sandwiches and drinks - we have to drive kids that are not our own up and down the country in our 4X4s and they smell and leave their litter behind them. Just last week one wee brat left a big sticky gummy on the screen of our in car DVD player. And this is the sort of behaviour the organization condones.”
She went on: “Then they have the cheek to say we treat their coaches like babysitters? For goodness sakes these are guys that go and get themselves one of those awful O’Neill’s tracksuits, bottoms that are far too tight and show of their pathetic physiques. They go to a bloody course and next thing they think they’re Sir Alex Ferguson with all this psycho babble and nonsense. My son’s head is full of it.
She continued: “I see at a course one of them tried to entice my husband along to, there was a session on dealin’ with the difficult parent. This isn’t good enough. When I go to my reading group everyone is entitled to their opinion - not like the Gaelic bloody Athletic Association where you have a pile of inadequate men sitting on their high horses spouting off about things that just don’t matter. They really need to get a life - the club secretaries seem the worst.”
“My husband got drawn into it - it was a like a secret society. I had to ban him from wearing it when he arrived home with the dreaded tracksuit - I mean for God’s sakes they all look the same. Sad wee men with no lives. I pity the wives - especially those that get sucked in too. How they can stand going to those matches that are so dreary and get so mucky is beyond me.”
She said: “Me and my friends have had enough - our kids aren’t going any more. No amount of money could pay you to put up with that nonsense. I would call on all other parents to do the same. Get a real life!”
When it was pointed out that there was another organization (or two if you include the Gay Police Association) the spokeswomen said ‘we’ll soon see about that.”
Yes, you’ve guessed it - that beleaguered strand of the gaelic and athletic fraternity is under the spotlight again. The referee that should have sent McEntee off last year in the All Ireland club final was the whistlehandler yesterday in the Leinster club Championship match between St Vincent’s and Seneschalstown yesterday in Parnell Park. Eugene Murtagh signalled for the end of the game, the players shuk hands as they do, supporters shuffled off looking forward to another day out in the ball freezing cold we associate with club championships. That is until a Leinster official who actually knew the rules toul the boul Murtagh that he shouldn’t have played extra time. With the game between Moorefield and Dromard at Conleth’s Park going to extra-time, the error was compounded.
Could this all get very DRAmatic? Well, the St Vincent’s manager Micky Whelan isn’t about next weekend for the replay and neither is Mossy Quinn who interrupted his holiday to come home for this game.
So there you have it - the Leinster championship - it has it all, replays no replays clubs booted out because the provincial council became fed up when there county championship wasn’t finished in time.
Anyway, Talking Balls would like to remind you, if you have forgotten - it is an amateur sport. Yes an amateur sport.
Irish Independent columnist Eugene McGee may get up people’s noses from time to time - not ours - and there’ll be no sniggering about Dublin players, fans and noses either thank you very much.
Eugene has an interesting piece in today’s Indo about a very bizarre and potentially precedent-setting ruling by the great DRA.
(Talking Balls link: Full article: www.independent.ie/sport/gaelic-football/anyone-give-a-focal-1217135.html).
Basically then according to Eugene, a Longford player verbally abused a referee and got two months. He appealed this round the county as you do and getting no joy took it to the DRA who threw out the suspension on the grounds that the referee when reporting the player had listed his name in English rather than Irish - the DRA ruled it should have been the latter. Before you ask, it’s not known whether the abuse was in Irish or English. According to McGee who claims to have checked this with ‘leading referees’ the countries top whistlers claimed this was news to them.
Eugene also points out that unless players are gaelgeoirs like Sean Óg Ó hAilpín they will give their name in English - most won’t know it in Irish. Imagine young Petr Tomaszewski - the prodigy for St Mary’s being asked by the ref what his name is in Irish? Eugene also points out the ref shouldn’t’ be expected to translate players names - in fact most players and I would suggest many managers wouldn’t know the player’s name in Irish? What too if like Eugene McGee the referee spelled Sean Óg’s name wrong by leaving out the fada as Eugene did today.
Talking Balls knows some people that speak Irish and according to them and we have no reason to doubt them, leaving out a fada is a spelling mistake. Is the absence of a fada in a name enough to have a suspension lifted. If so, we encourage unscrupulous coaches around the country to teach their kids to spell their names in Irish the wrong way. You never know when it cam in handy.
As we argued about another DRA ruling or non ruling during the summer, did the player do it or not? If he did suspend him - if not don’t. The alternative is making a balls out of the whole things and we don’t want that. Or do we?
Talking Balls dispatched one of the crew off to the City West on Saturday night for the annual camogie All Stars. With more flesh on display than you’d see in the average dressing room, the fake tan business must have recorded record returns this last weekend.
Trooping into the hall in a style not seen since the Rose of Tralee the girls looked lovely under the maternal and watchful eye of Liz Howard, the Grand Dame of camogie. Dunno how much trooping in like contestants in Miss World does for the perceptions of women in sport but we’ll park that.
Liz had obviously fulfilled some personal fantasy by getting that well known GAA man Gordon D’Arcy of Leinster Railway Cup fame (never heard of him ourselves) as the guest for the night. Positively gushing, Liz could barely contain herself about Gordon this and Gordon that. That was after a few patronising words - wouldn’t be our cup of tea Liz wouldn’t, no not at all. She should come up to Ulster some time but then that might mean recognizing such a place exists.
Anyway, a few years back Talking Balls correspondent would have thought that camogie had all the athleticism and appeal of a herd of cows grazing through a field. No longer do we think that. These are athletes dedicated and skilful and they provided two excellent All Ireland Finals in Croke Park.
We learned a few things at the All Stars. We were rooting for one of the Derry players in particular and went home disappointed. This is no disrespect to Aisling Diamond who picked up the trophy for the No 11 shirt after her shining performance in the All Ireland. Lesson No 1 - the junior competition shall get one All Star each year - irrespective of how many nominations they get. Liz said she cherished all the players - no matter what standard. Yes, but it doesn’t mean they get an All Star.
Lesson No 2 - these players are severely passionate about what they do. One of Talking Balls colleagues had expressed the desire to “meet those two good lookin’ yokes from the Sunday Game.” Well it turned out Dublin’s Eimear Brannigan from the Sunday Game received an All Star herself and looked as stunned as a outsider winning an Oscar. We wasted no time in tracking her down - for the craic you understand - and she was totally overwhelmed by the award. Although fairly ‘tired and emotional’ there was no doubt that the award meant a lot to a woman who has done her bit for camogie, for club and county and indeed the Sunday Game. Fair play Eimear, we enjoyed the craic.
Lesson 3. Camogs can party. It was a long journey home a Sunday and thankfully the breakfast mostly stayed where it was supposed to.
Earlier in the summer Donegal’s Paddy McGonigley suffered an accidental eye injury whilst paintballing with his team mates. The Fanad Gaels clubman has revealed that doctors can do more leaving him with impaired vision in one eye.
In a time when player welfare is in the headlines here is serious story about a fella that has suffered this career threatening injury whilst team bonding. And by career we mean his career outside football. Paddy said:
“I have been out of work. I don’t know what’s happening. I have to make a decision. I know it will be a lot more risky working on building sites. Doctors told me they can do no more for me. I had the operation on Tuesday, was back for a check up and he told me there was nothing more he could do. He said go back training, get a bit of confidence back, no harm in doing that.”
It depends on how the game pans out and if they want I will come on for 15 or 20 minutes. I couldn’t give much more than that.”
Let’s hope then that workwise at least he gets sorted.
Dara O Cinneide has reflected the views of a many people increasingly pissed off at some of the prima donnas playing county football. Says the former All Ireland captain:
“I don’t like the direction football is taking at the moment. The attitude of people gets to me. People going on about what their diet is and how serious they are about football. They’re almost giving the impression that it’s a chore to play for your county. What pisses me off most of all is players, young fellas, telling you how to play the game - all the sacrifices they’d made. Telling you that there should be government grants at the end of it and how thy felt their image rights were being infringed upon.
“You’re playing for your county. There are kids out there who’d love to do it.”
Talkling Balls favourite union activist and one of our least favourite professional Derry men have begun a media love in that could lead to a spectacular celebrity deathmatch. Let’s get them on The Late Late Show or Jonathon Woss and see some real fireworks. The story so far…
Joe Brolly doesn’t like the Gaelic Players Association. He would gladly keep them in his pocket etc etc. He doesn’t attempt to disguise his dislike. Joe is a successful pundit and barrister and probably has a few quid about him.
Meanwhile, down in Cork, Donal Óg is very annoyed at some of the media. Taking a swing with one of them hurleys with the big varnished bas, sez Donal Óg last week:
“If ye really believed nobody should benefit financially why don’t ye do the same as GAA players and go to games on Sundays, submit your stories and then go away and do a job nine to five Monday to Friday, or a couple of nights work like players are.
“There is a man there up in the north, I see, Joe Brolly, does Joe give his paycheque from RTE or his newspaper back to the grassroots or go to the man cleaning the dressing rooms and say ‘look that’s for you’, I don’t think so. People are saying players shouldn’t get money but they’re being paid themselves.”
This is one that we think the paying public want to see more of so Joe and Donal, get it on - don’t care when or how but we think there could be mileage here. Obviously a dacent rate of mileage but mileage all the same.
Former Cork footballer has claimed the skill has gone out of the men’s game with too much attention to tactics, strength and conditioning and analysis. Speaking at a fundraiser for the Rebelettes in Cork City he did say that the skills was still there in the ladies game. Musta been on the pull that night Niall were you? First rule of public speaking - tell the audience what they want to hear.
Zero = the column inches devoted to the Camogie All Stars in today’s Irish Times. Shame on ye lads.
Paddy Heaney will never work for the BBC. So says everyone who has watched, listened and read with interest the hornet’s nest that Paddy has stirred up over the last week. In his Against the Breeze column, Paddy called upon plain gaels like ourselves to complain to the BBC about their failure to cover gaelic games at the expense it has to be said of giving wall to wall coverage of that insomnia cure known as Irish league soccer.
A prominent Corkman has welcomed FIFA’s ruling that players from the North can play for the South in Soccer and vice versa but has insisted it wouldn’t apply to Cork. “We wouldn’t want anyone from the North because they wouldn’t be from Cork.” He said.
How much did Gordon D’Arcy get paid for kissing the camogie All Stars on Saturday night and for delivering the shortest speech in history. At one stage during his two minute address he forgot were he was - maybe he caught a glimpse of on of the many impressive cleavages on display and that put him off his stroke. Anyone for a Freedom of Information request to Liz Howard to ask her. Talking Balls escort said she was disappointed that there was no goodie bag with the usual perfume, moisturizer and other trinkets so beloved by the ladies. There’s the reason girls - it was spent on Gordon.
This week, resident expert Ger Manas feels his energy drain as we approach the end of the season. Not draining as much as his patience with the prima donnas that are taking over. Ger offers his own remedy…
It’s been a long year for a number of reasons. The more I hear about player burn out the more I get convinced that coaches and committees need a break from games an stuff. Some clubs that get a wee bit of success maybe getting to play in an All Ireland after Christmas time or maybe they get promoted and look towards playing a new season on level up will find themselves under pressure. That’s why it’s good to have a break - ye need to freshen up the mind and the body and I suppose the soul.
I think our games have as much of soul about them. Ye look at some of the goin’s on and ye wonder what in the name of god fella’s is playin’ at. That GPA now this week is only after voting to go on strike. Eighteen hundred players or something have said that next season they won’t play county football or hurlin’ because they aren’t getting their grants. This is money I understand that the government in Dublin is goin to give to the GAA for players. It is €2000 a year. Sure for god’s sake that’s nothin’. There’s fellas out there running about with sponsored cars, free gym memberships, wearing the best of good sports gear sponsored by Nike, Puma, adidas or whoever - sure what is two grand in euro to them? It wouldn’t even run yer car for ye? Some of these fellas will be back round their clubs and it’s a boot in the hole they’ll be getting’.
I see me oul friend Mickey Harte got hisself in deep water last week. Mickey sez today he was misquoted when he said Tyrone would field in whatever competitions they were entered in irrespective of what the GPA said or done and whatever else he said. Now I dunno what Micky’s situation’s like - he doesn’t get paid according to what I’m told. No doubt his profile’s bigger due to his success in football and if he did ever make a few poun’ because of what he’s done then I for wan wouldn’t begrudge him that.
But these Tyrone players for example - they’re like gods in Tyrone. Every young fella looks up to them as if the sun shines out of the backside. Do they deserve it? Probably although there may be one or two pushes it from time to time. They have that Club Tyrone throwin’ money at them - thousands and thousands of poun making life off the pitch better so things on the pitch go to plan. That’s the idea.. Maybe all the other counties don’t get that but in the last five years the Tyrone set up is as near professional as can be. And that is typical; of many counties - stayin’ in hotels, atin’ great feeds of stuff, nice gear. How many clubmen do you know can say they’ve been to Dubai on a paid for holiday. God knows where else these county teams have been - out chasin’ women in the Canaries and what not. That fella Cusack - him and them Corkmen were in Vietnam. Now if the name of Christ would ye tell me what business a load of Cork fellas have headin to Vietnam. I’m surprised they didn’t start the war again to boot them out.
Which brings me back to burn out a everyone involved in the game. If ye’re like mne involved with more teams than ye know what to do with and then with these county men ringin’ me up sure I haven’t time to even be writing this stuff. At this stage if the season’s still goin, lads and girls get fed up to the back teeth. It can be hard trying to get the genie out of the bottle these days - its coul, players at the fag end couldn’t be arsed training but hey have to because if ye’re still goin’ now chances are ye have somethin’ te play for - championship, relegation or promotion - whatever. I know fellas is lookin’ forward to Christmas and turkey and beer. They think sometimes an oul red card even would be the handy option to get the season over and done with wud be the job.
I must say now I sepnt an oul game sittin there in the stand where the ref put me during an important game and after I finished bein’ annoyed with mesel’ I had time to think about what I was at an I knew for the first time I needed a break - the players were sick listenin’ to me and I to them.
Enough of that oul depressing shite - now that I’ve time on me hands I’ll be takin in a few of them club championship games. After what McConville said about Ryan McMenamin there’s only one place to be next Sunday and that’s wherever that match is bein played. I”ll tell ye, if the TG4 boys can get McMenamin to wear a wire - which I hear they’re trying to do - that could be some craic!
Regular readers will know that we rely on our regular columnist Ger Manas to get his copy in on time for Talking Balls. Occasionally we have had to gently encourage him to meet our rigid Friday am deadline. Last week however was a watershed in missed deadlines. Ger was up north in Cross for a celebration to mark the publication of a book by a well known local gaelic and athletic personality. Never having had a charge of Buckfast before, Ger was subsequently incapacitated for several days, rising only to visit the facilities and occasionally expunge great volumes of purple coloured bile. “Yerra,” sez he “To think that Monks produce that stuff. Tis no wonder Armagh is the ecclesiastical capital of All Ireland. My head feels like I’ve been punched by the Grimleys.”
This week in Talking Balls - well we’re late for starters which turned out to be a good thing after all. An exciting day of club activity yesterday with the usual Ulster Championship brawl that will get the BBC all hot and bothered. Not enough to makes the front page of the Belfast Telegraph but hey - it’s only the first round.
We reflect on the sensational or boring revelations made by Oisin McConville in his book - depending who you are and where you’re from. It’s a big relief to know he never had a punt on a GAA match. We’ll repeat that or maybe we’ll not bother.
Elsewhere, the GPA reckons ninety per cent of voters will favour a strike. Talking Balls reckons if they do strike one hundred per cent of other Gaelic and athletic people like ourselves will get mightily pissed off. Let them wear smelly shirts and drive to matches and we’ll see what the craic is. One of our team - after a weekend running after a few prima donnas is just waiting for someone to tell him they’re on strike - it won’t be good and it won’t be pretty.
Micko laments the state of modern Ireland. Wasn’t like that when he only had to play two meaningful games to win All Irelands - not like the modern day Kerry teams who only have to play… two meaningful games to win All Irelands. No wonder they’re burnt out and need greater player welfare.
Ah, maybe we’re becoming bitter and twisted - if you are too remember it’s an amateur sport and we love it.
If you think camogie is a game for girls you’re right. For everything else, there’s always Talking Balls.
This season you have to go to see the riches to rags and back again story of Oisinderella - it has it all - pints, points and punts.
Poor oul Oisinderella thought she would never get to the ball - in fact she couldn’t even afford the taxi having lost all her readies on a well intentioned but foolhardy punt. That is until the big orange pumpkin turned into a wonderful coach called Big Joe, the donkeys previously known as the McEntees actually turned out to be thoroughbreds and the handsome young prince called Geezer delivered riches untold to Oisinderella and her ilk.
Also featuring Jack O’Connor as the whiner Twankey, guest star Francie Bellew as a Mrs Doubtfire-esque fairy godmother - and back by special request, Tyrone’s Conor Gormley, Ryan McMenamin and Brian Dooher allstar as the three ugly sisters. Also featuring Buttons - who lives in Oisinderella’s pockets cos there’s nothing else in there only… Buttons. Buttons lives in terror of being given away to the Evil Bookmaker sponsored by none other than Paddy Power.
The dramatic tour de force features specially adapted versions of modern classic tunes including Coldplay’s Fix You, Johnny Cash performing Sunday Morning Coming Down, Van Morrison’s Have a I Told You Lately That I Love You, sung acapella by the three ugly sisters, as well as ABBA’s Take a Chance on Me, You Better You Bet by the Who and the Rolling Stones You Can’t Always Bet What you Want.
The plot - well it’s simple really.
Oisinderella lived at home - a big fish in a small pond - always busy - there was always something somewhere to be cleaned out. But every time Oisinderella went for the ball, the three ugly sisters always called her names and were always cruel saying the nastiest things that weren’t true. Then they sniggered and laughed when Oisinderella went and cried about it. Especially when they had the last laugh. Poor Oul Oisinderella couldn’t hack this - especially with so many other things going on in her life. It was tough being a big girl’s blouse she thought to herself as another dream - and a pink slip - turned to ashes. Burnt again.
Conor the biggest ugly sister burst into Oisinderella’s world: “I will put you in my pocket and feed you on farts as Brolly told us to do”, said Conor.
“Oh no you won’t,” said Oisinderella,
“Oh Yes I will,” chorused Conor and Ryan.
“Oh no you won’t,” said Oisinderella,
“Oh Yes I will,” chorused Conor and Ryan and Brian.
“Oh no you won’t,” said Oisinderella,
“Oh Yes I will,” chorused Conor and Ryan and Brian and everyone from the dastardly County of Tyrone. Oisinderella hated people from Tyrone - she couldn’t put her finger on it - she just did. They didn’t really mind her - they knew she had been to the ball just the once and would never ever be back and that was sad - nothing else.
At this Oisinderella turned and burst into tears, she sobbed: “I’m only happy when I see the big orange pumpkin. Why are the ugly sisters being so nasty to me?”
“Because you’re a big wean and you cry a lot…” chorused thousands of people who were already sick of the pantomime. We wonder why…
Not to be continued…
Talking Balls has learned that Tommy Breheny has been named Sligo Person of the Year, following in the footsteps of other famous Sligo people like… well WB Yeats. Obviously taken a bit aback at winning an award he probably never heard of he said:
“I was very surprised and delighted. I felt humbled in the company of other people who had obviously done a lot of great work in their own particular areas and who would have been equally worthy winners. I would have been aware of the person of the year awards scheme and read with interest the many citations outlining the great work being done by individuals in the county down throughout the years. I never expected that I would be person of the year and consider it a great honour.”
This all of course after Breheny had announced he was stepping down as Sligo manager.
As oul Yeats might have said about him:
He with body waged a fight
But body won it walks upright
Then he struggled with the heart
Innocence and Peace depart.
Then he struggled with the mind
His proud heart he left behind.
Jack O Connor has revealed that he is happy not being involved with a county team. Going by his book - which at this stage is well thumbed and tear stained from laughter in the Talking Balls newsroom - the job made him into a miserable whining oul bollix.
Speaking exclusively he said:
“I’m just enjoying being with the younger lads again and doing it for fun. You don’t have the hassle of travel - a three-hour round trip to Killarney, a fair bit to go after work. I’m not sure I had the appetite to keep going. If you stay on too long with a team, you tend to remember what they did for you in the past. You have to start every year with a clean slate. That’s what a new manager does.”
Good to know then he’s doing it for fun - not a few bob as his booked suggested but then, wasn’t that point quickly clarified?
Anyway, we take it the oul book’s selling rightly.
Dublin’s Kevin Bonnar faces a lifetime ban from all things gaelic and athletic after being charged with possession of cocaine last week. For those that may have missed this - and it’s fair to say it hasn’t been trumpeted from the rooftops in the same way that other alleged misdemeanors by high profile Irish sports personalities have been highlighted in recent months by the BBC and other - Bonnar was caught by the Garda in his car in possession of a small amount of the Colombian Marching Powder. The Sunday Independent has revealed today that Bonnar was detained previously on a cocaine charge and has more than ten previous arrests.
“The last big time Charlie on the Dublin team was yer man Redmond,” snorted the Office WAG derisively.
What Dublin manager and Garda Pillar Caffrey will make of this is not known. He will hardly turn a blind eye but… you never know. Again according to Sunday’s Indo, Bonnar - whose own father Seamus is a retired Garda as well as a former Donegal footballer - has previously been warned by Caffrey about his behaviour. The Indo quotes one unnamed Dub:
“Maybe Kevin, who was on the fringes of the team, thought he would get away with it. We go drinking after matches and let off steam, but I’ve never heard any of the lads talk about doing it — and I’ve never seen any of them doing it.”
We previously reported stories of coke usage among Dublin supporters on the Hill. Visions of players doing a line in front of the Hill are surely not going to be a feature of the Dublin pre match choreography next year. In fact their best chance of success rests with the other main contenders developing serious bad habits between now and next summer.
All this in a week that Archbishop Diarmuid Martin - Talking Balls tip to be the next Pope - lacerated the drugs culture in Ireland:
“I find it particularly difficult to understand how in a society which rightly abhors any expression of double-standards in public life, there are those who attempt to make germ-free the bond between the sordid network of drug trafficking and violence and the socially accepted use of certain drugs as ‘recreational’… The drug trade is in its own right violence, a trafficking in death and the ruination of lives, many of them young and vulnerable.”
Micko
According to Mick O’Dwyer the Irish are turning into fat drunken hoors - or obese alcoholics as he more delicately put it altho’ I’m sure the vernacular description would have come handier to him.
Sez Micko the search for happiness, he says, “seems to be increasingly associated with alcohol and in some cases, drugs,” he says, deploring the new society that wealth and affluence has spawned.
“I have no doubt that the increase in drinking at home will lead to a surge in alcohol problems down the line and the worrying thing is that nobody is reacting to it. If drink is becoming a national scourge, obesity is following closely and will also get worse unless it is addressed.”
“Walk around a supermarket and wine is laid out invitingly in almost every aisle. It seems to me that wherever you turn the fruit of the grape is there to tempt you. And unfortunately all signs are that plenty of people are happy to be tempted.”
“It’s all being drunk at home which sets an example for young people who themselves will grow up to join that culture. People don’t go out for a drink in their local pub as much anymore. It was as much a social exercise as a desire to drink and was very much at the heart of local communities. That has changed to a large degree and now far more drink is being consumed at home, a development that could have devastating consequences”.
This from the man who led Kerry to unprecedented success on the pitch and off it in the bar. In Tom Humphries highly enjoyable book about the Kerry and Dublin teams of the seventies and eighties tone of the leading characters was Arthur Guinness. Talking Balls has just finished reading Michael Foley’s book about the Offaly team that ended Kerry’s five in a row bid. He recounts at some length how the players fundraised to go on a round the world trip ending in Australia. They weren’t there hunting kangaroos, on bunjee jumping. No they tore the ass out of it - on the beer - about a hundred of the hoors on the rip. Who presided over this group of intrepid apostles, drinking for Ireland on a global scale? Mick O’Dwyer.
And how was this funded? Well Kerry played a series of exhibition games round the country and lifted the gate receipts. Foley recounts their match against Tyrone in Carrickmore, wrongly describing it as an evening game - it wasn’t. Talking Balls Tyrone correspondent was there you know, and after the game with all the innocence of a young fella we got the Kerry legends to sign programmes and we got a houl of Sam by one of the ears - as close as we’d get for another 21 years or so. I am delighted in retrospect to know that my couple of quid admission fee paid for a pint for Paidi O Se or the Bomber or indeed that bollix Spillane - that wasn’t made clear at the time. The match itself ended with twenty Tyrone players on the field trying to stem the tide of green and gold attackers. Somehow you can’t be surprised that Ulster teams were so shite in Croker when they allowed themselves to be party to that circus - twenty against fifteen in Carrickmore - wouldn’t happen now.
Have to say our Tyrone men took some solace from the fact that the Kerry squad under the ‘great’ Jack O’Connor played uneven sided games inn preparation for their All Ireland Final against Tyrone in 2005. The question is who will step up to the plate Offaly style in 2008 and stop the Kerrymen lift another three-in-a-row?
Well the championship still favours the Kerrymen - twenty five years on. The one thing maybe they don’t share is their predecessors’ ability to sink pints but sure that’s socially unacceptable now according to Micko.
This week they said… “I think the players didn’t particularly like each other. I don’t think the managers liked each other, and the supporters certainly didn’t. They were two top teams and we knew that any result against them would have a big say on who was going to win… They were fantastic games - the best, by far.”
Oisin McConville talking about Armagh v Tyrone? No actually Roy Keane talking about Arsenal v Manchester Utd. But then, remember US vice-presidential candidate Senator Lloyd Bentson when he wiped the floor with dumf*** opponent Dan Quayle by declaring:
‘Senator, I served with Jack Kennedy: I knew Jack Kennedy; Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine. Senator, you’re no Jack Kennedy“.
Yes, poor oul Oisin is indeed no Roy Keane. In fact he is more of a Dan Quayle type character. As Dan himself said - with a foot in the mouth aplomb that Dubya can only aspire to - and an awareness of his own mortality that Oisin might reflect on in one of his quieter moments: “I have made good judgments in the Past. I have made good judgments in the Future.”
This is the man that also stated in public: “What a waste it is to lose one’s mind. Or not to have a mind is being very wasteful. How true that is.”
Oisin couldn’t have put it better himself in his book… If we don’t succeed we run the risk of failure.
No GAA stories. Yes, there isn’t a single Gaelic and athletic story on the UTV website and the moron that writes their teletext page has a reference to that well known team Belfast St Galls.
Meanwhile over on the ‘Friends of the GAA’ website the British Broadcasting Corporation’s lead sports story is headlined ‘Brawl Mars Crossmaglen Win’. Hopefully there was plenty of footage of the row so that Noel Thompson can get all Sanctimonious and disapproving, furrowing his brow as he announces more bad news for Norn Irn’s most popular spectator sport. Prepare yourself for Baby Doc sharpening his pen and his wit in any attempt to divert attention away from his obsession with the Giant’s Causeway.
Here’s a snippet from the match report in case anyone thinks we’re biased - unlike the BBC who aren’t of course:
Cross moved ahead by four but Vinny Corey’s goal gave Clontibret hope and they had a last-ditch ‘45 to level.
However, they took it short and ref Martin Sludden immediately blow up and following an ugly brawl, Crossmaglen’s Cathal Shortt was red carded.
Clontibret clearly were not aware that the ‘45 was the last kick of the game and while Dessie Mone was clearly fouled after receiving the ball, referee Sludden had already blown the final whistle.
With fists flying in the moments after the game, Sludden required a Garda escort as he made his way to the dressing-rooms.
Make sure ye watch the new the night now… You’ve been warned!
Talking Balls has always had an interest in the Tour de France and as regular readers will know we have more than a passing admiration for the great Flann O’Brien/Myles na gCopaleen.
Flann had taken man’s relationship with bicycles to a new level when he propounded the novel theory - in his novel The Third Policemen - that humans were in fact half bicycle due the rubbing and exchange of atomic material that takes place through friction when cycling. Flann would therefore now doubt have had a wry smile at the news that a man has been placed on the sex offenders’ register after being caught trying to have sex with a bicycle.
Such was Scotsman Robert Stewart’s infatuation with his bike that he decided to move the thing up a gear. Problem was he was caught in flagrante delicto by two cleaners at the Aberley House Hostel in Scotland, who observed him “wearing only a white T-shirt, naked from the waist down. The accused was holding the bike and moving his hips back and forth as if to simulate sex.”
For having the ride of his life, the unfortunate Mr Stewart will be placed on the sex offenders register. What we hear you ask does this have to do with Talking Balls. Well, cycling is a foreign game and Flann O’Brien’s da was the first Chairman of the Tyrone Co Board. Tenuous we know but where we see a good story it is our duty to let you know about it.
This week resident expert Ger Manas consider the fixtures crises that afflict the GAA. Sure the summer should be left free for holidays should it not?
I’ve had a few complaints in recent weeks from lads across the country that I know that club championships and league games are still being played off at this stage of the year. Lucky the weather is so good that ye can still cut the grass and hedges and leave a few oul animals out. This time last year twas a frosty oul hoor of a forecast and it wasn’t great for matches. We were playin’ an oul club championship match and I damn near couldn’t feel my own fingers. The wife reckoned I still hadn’t thawen out the next night.
What is it about county boards that makes them act like rabbits caught in headlights as soon as the oul county team does any way well during the summer? It’s nearly as if they have a plan A which involves the county team winning the provincial championship and there’s no f***in’ plan B.
So what happens, they map out a programme of fixtures that’s printed up and published round the county - deadly efficient. Usually that comes out round about January or February. F***in great job - committee meetings are held, scenarios planned out - the oul coach maybe he’s been on one of the level one courses so he’s planned out a programme of training like he was toul by that Terence McWilliams or Eugene Young or whoever. There’s a planner with red circles and f***in blue highlights up on his wall. The number of points needed to make the oul play off spot calculated and matches targeted. Great job - looks deadly altogether. The oul team would be peaking nicely - plenty of objectives and shite about depth and penetration.
The lad he’s brought in to work with the forwards has done a great job - that unit is up and running like a well oiled spring - ready to jump into action. There’s drills with men breaking right, left and centre and balls whalin’ over the f***in bar from every possible angle and even more impossible angles. The backs are as tight as Posh Spice’s trunks, even that w***er Beckham couldn’t get his balls through. The keeper has been working with one of the board things like ye used to get for subbuteo - the balls pingin’ back at him all roads and he’s diving like Billy the Fish. The weights programme’s all done at this stage - the wall planner shows a big orange mark at the end of the season - the lads get three weeks off - what that really means is that they resume light weights and then start up again for next year. All the players have a f***in planner too and they’re foot to the board atin egg white omelettes, turkey slices, carrot and cherry juice with pomegranate, no fat, no bread and nothin’ with any taste. That historic first title in about fifty years look as formality and even better - they’ve only the wan player on the county squad. And then what the f*** happens? The county team go and lose in the championship and get bucked into the qualifiers. The whole dynamic changes - instead of salad days in Clones or Pearse Stadium, Croker or wherever - it’s on the road on a Saturday evening to the arse end of nowhere.
The clubmen don’t get too worried - they keep at the eggwhite, the fancy drills and the tape of that oul Any Given Sunday is worn thin as they keep ‘that edge’. But sure you know yourself what happens next - Chicago contacts that fella that was a great county minor a few years back but has been sittin’ on his hole round Uni. He decides to head stateside with no obvious prospect of a meaningful game at home. Boston calls another. Soon the pints make a welcome reappearance in fellas lives and the girlfriends and wives realize they might have a chance of a bit of action with the boyo they fancied only to find out they were courting Brother Barnabus who’d a knot tied in it. What about an oul holiday in the sun she whispers in his ear - the man’s that revved up he’d agree to anything after pulling nothin’ only weights for the last few months - so he agrees. A week in the sun for some real howdyedo and a good dose of sunburn, Cerveza and steak every night. Yeehaa. The other lads are out on the beer sinkin’ gallons of stout and lager - finished off with a double cheesy lambburger from the Libyan fella’s kebab van down the road. It dribbles more grease than the sweat of a Mexican labourer in Texas but it’s tasty, tasty. Bite by bite he writes off omelette after omelette - jeeze fat tastes good - egg white tastes like… well… shite. Get another one in - we’ll work it off tomorrow except tomorrow never comes - not in training terms.
Meanwhile the county team’s struggling on bit by bit and the oul hype’s mountin’. The county board realizes belatedly that these hoors might actually get to play in Croker in August. So what about Plan B? Well there was no Plan B to worry about so f*** it let’s enjoy the moment. Get onto O’Neills - get as much county shite made up as possible and sell, sell, sell. They’ll probably not win but sure who gives a shite - and we can worry about the county championship and league when this is over - sure it’s great craic.
And that’s what happens and that’s why fellas are playin’ matches in October, November and even December. So tear up the planners lads and forget all you’ve been taught on the training courses. Make it up as ye go along because ye’ll get somewhere - dunno where but it it’ll be a different place from where ye started. We hope. Talk about Burnout? Some boys aren’t even warmed up.