Talking Balls Issue 37 - Well Informed Ignorance
Talking BallsThis week in Talking Balls, we follow the increasing incidence of current players cashing in on their celebrity to give an insight into what it’s like to be a county player. We have secured the services of fictional hurler Daniel O’Donnelly who tells us what it is like to live by the pen, hurl by the pen, and possibly and very quickly die a painful and tortured death by the pen. Ahem, where did we get this idea? We can’t reveal our sources.Some further innovations to report - the new series of Blunderdogs is looking for victims - can you help? Also, Leinster counties play fast and loose with the transfer system.
Up in Derry they’re all set to celebrate another big year in 2008. We may be giving away tickets for that one.
We consider the predictions of Michael Greenan - surely a prophet of our time. We have no real coverage of the grants this week, only a few frivolous pieces. We notice the punters voted with their feet yesterday, turning up in their droves to watch the pampered ones in action. Did anyone of One True Belief go to a match? If you saw them let us know - we don’t know as the intrepid Talking Balls‘ team sat on their holes in protest and watched the match on TV. The only exception was the Office WAG out shirt tugging as usual. She hasn’t been the same since she didn’t get an invite to that Man United party before Christmas.
Oh, and by the way, Happy New Year, we haven’t gone away you know despite what you hoped! If your balls are still hanging up your tree, get a life. For everyone else, there’s always Talking Balls.
The Unfeasibly Foolish and Fictitious GAA Diary of Daniel O’Donnelly
Well you sacks of shit, my name is Daniel O’Donnelly and I hurl for the fictitious county of Ballyballbag. I’m here on this crappy Squareball website to tell you what life is really like as a pretend inter-county hurler and I’m earning a media fee that will make those shit grants negotiated by the GPA like small change. I am an imaginary member of the Real GPA. I wear imaginary shorts, a totally transparent shirt with one of those cool looking but pointless CCC undershirts on - my boots are made-up Puma Kings and my socks reek in the fashion of an olfactory affront. I have free gear galore and I am a legend in my own club - people have heard of me, read about me but they rarely see me. Long may it continue.
In the Ballyballbag County Squad we have a whole group of made up players, our manager is straight out of the great book of GAA stereotypes and we have all the usual paraphernalia - sports psychologists, plyometrics experts, hydrationists, nutritionists, onanists, experts from this pretend university and that other entirely unbelievable Centre of Excellence for sport in the town of Nibbledenob. A real bloodsucking pipistrelle of a physio looks after our ailments real and imaginary, and a team doctor that can stitch a feigned injury. We also have a top motivational guru to massage our engorged egos as well as the parts others can’t and daren’t reach.
Our training is unfeasibly tough, we have the obligatory sergeant major-like physical trainer based on the likes of Mike Mac who calls us all girls - or am I imagining that - and the smooth talking inspirational genius a la Mickey Harte. We have rich benefactors galore with the widest pockets in cloud cuckoo GAA-dom. We have developers flying into training every night of the week in illusory helicopters to see how we are getting on and to ask what we need - landing pitchside surreal style like something from Apocalypse Now. They unload bevvies of lovelies, chicks from the sticks - there’s nothing like a hot roast after training - because hey as fictitious county GAA stars we get our rocks off whenever we want. Especially after a few clichéd rounds of Magners cider washed down with a round of those jagermeister shots. We have emotionally charged bonding sessions when our assistant manager - in the manner of Colonel Kurtz but about fifty seven illusory stone lighter - mumbles a series of motivational nuggets that spark our pretend enthusiasm beyond anything the made up mumbo jumbo of Al Pacino can even begin to approach.
Come matchday we can poc the ball further, jump higher and run faster than anyone since Cuchullain - another legendary but made up hero of Ireland. We play other pretend counties like Drumbanna - they’re shit but the GAA in the county is likewise populated by a swathe of typical characters painted in grotesque hues in every cartoon description of the modern GAA. They too have their stars, some of whom are also writing ghost written made up columns in newspapers - their performance on matchday not due to their own commitment and dedication but rather at the whim of a ghostly writer.
“Diarmuid O’Donkey played shit, he couldn’t lift a sock and he couldn’t catch it if he was paying for it…”
Naw don’t like that… “Diarmuid O’Donkey was brilliant, his first touch and his eye for goal reminiscent of the great DJ…”
Diarmuid O’Donkey had to see the team shrink after that one - from hero to zero at the stroke of a pen, or the flick of PDA wand, the strike of a key stroke not a sliotar. Can he live this way knowing his entire game is at the whim of a poorly talented scribe and a judgemental editor. Can he f**k!
‘Real GAA men don’t drink pints of Magners with ice, they drink stout like they did in my day and they wash it down with Jamesons.’ Says the real editor.
‘Not any more they don’t,’ errs the cub ghostwriter, not sure how his inter county source will react when he hears the training regime is shaped not by science but by an editor who thinks he knows best.
“What about twenty laps of the pitch and six weeks before the balls thrown in - we used to do that… Make sure Diarmuid O’Donkey trains hard next week, no hamstring pulls or groin strains. If he gets injured just edit it out and makes sure he plays on te f**k - we have this deadline for this shitty column so he needs gametime.”
So there ye have it ye stand lubbers - ye buy the papers, ye read the crap the reporters write and every week there’s two matches - the game that’s played and the game the reporters describe: ‘I hear Murphy played well.’ ‘Did he f**k…’ says the three hundred and fifty ballfroze souls that actually went to the game but sure what’s in the papers is all that counts. Well your sacks of shite, now ye are getting it both ways with us players getting’ our own back, and now we’re getting paid and its out in the open you can expect more of it.
Hold you breath for more next time, from the unreal world of Daniel O’Donnelly, the precociously transparent and ultimately illusory iománador. Ballyballbag hurling - where real men fear to tread.
Wicklow’s Walsh to End Loan Period
Loyal readers of Talking Balls if such a thing exists will remember we drew attention to the prolonged and farcical situation of Thomas Walsh who transferred to Wicklow from his native Carlow, in a move that allegedly had Mick O Dwyer’s hands all over it. Walsh played an important role in his adopted county’s Tommy Cooper cup success when they pipped perennial losers Antrim in the final in Croker.
Well, it appears that his sojourn with Wicklow may be a short one as former Dub and now manager of Carlow Paul Bealin is keen top recruit Walsh back into the Carlow fold. Sez Paul:
“I will be talking with Thomas this week. I’m not sure whether Thomas is fully committed to Wicklow for this year, but it’s in our interests to talk to him. Thomas is a huge player out of midfield. I’m anxious to have him as part of my squad. This week I hope to persuade him to return to his native county. I’ll be leaving no stone unturned to change things around.”
According to the Examiner and why would we disbelieve them, Bealin has brought a whole new professional approach to the Carlow set-up which he hopes will tempt Walsh into returning.
In a separate development an unnamed Ulster county may be inviting the likes Declan Browne to join them - unofficially for just one season - to help them win something.
Is this the start of the merry-go-round or just more playground games from the increasingly immature GAA managers?
Is Michael Greenan the doomed Prophetess Cassandra reincarnated?
Cursed to predict the future but never to be believed, Talking Balls researchers have drawn astonishing similarities between Comhairle Uladh Chairman Michael Greenan and the Greek prophetess Cassandra.
According to Greek Mythology Cassandra spent the night at Apollo’s temple where the temple snakes licked her ears clean so that she was able to hear the future. Apollo loved Cassandra and when she did not return his love, he cursed her so that her gift would become a source of endless pain and frustration.
When Cassandra foresaw the fall and destruction of the city of Troy, she warned the Trojans about the Wooden Horse of Troy - which you will remember the Greeks used to sneak their way into the city - to the death of Agamemnon and her own death. She was however was unable to do anything to stop these things happening. Her family believed she was mad, and apparently kept her locked up - this drove her insane although some versions have her as being simply misunderstood.
Roll forward a few thousand years, and having wagged the wooden donkeys of soccer and rugby in with a fanfare unseen in Irish sport - Michael Greenan points the finger with Cassandra-esque precision.
“I said that from day one - once we opened Croke Park to other sports, how do we close it? Why can’t we play our national hurling or football league finals there or our Ulster final. Then you look at the time the other teams have in Croke Park. The rugby and soccer sides get five or six training sessions there while any team playing in the All-Ireland final is lucky to get half an hour out on the pitch. The soccer game against Brazil is basically a challenge match. If Cork or Kerry or whoever play a challenge game, it is done behind closed doors.
“All the money that is being made by the soccer will then be helped pay for a manager who will probably be sacked long before his contract expires. You can’t cure the damage done because the other sporting organisations have made huge money out of the GAA’s generosity.”
“We’ve lost the plot.”
Many dismiss the boul Michael’s comments as the ravings of a lunatic. Others consider him a prophet of the GAA? What do you think?
First the Underdogs - now the Blunderdogs
Following on from the success of the Underdogs series which saw Kieran Donaghy discovered as a county star and featured a troupe of gullible young ladies running into the sea stripped to their underwear - all in aid of television you understand - an Ulster based production company have come forward looking for a successful club team to volunteer to have their management taken over by a group of complete novices.
Producer Peter Attenborough said: “With the recent focus on the GPA and grants and the like, a lot of the hidden stories of gaelic games have emerged and all is not as rosy in the garden as some people might think. Some say that these club managers drive the length and breadth of the country because they love the game, not because the local developer or ballroom owner or laundry magnate is bankrolling them. That got us thinking about the cult of the GAA manager - are they worth a shite or not? Why pay some big cheese from Armagh or Derry to come and manage your team when the perfect candidate may be lurking within your own area and you don’t know it - maybe working as a bank manager, or HR manager or local sex therapist or whatever. These sorts of people are happy enough to go to the odd game and shout the odds so let’s see if they could cut the mustard pitch side.”
According to Attenborough the programme will observe the management team at close quarters. “We are looking for a team to volunteer to let these bollixes in for the forthcoming season. It’s early enough in the year now for them to get a shot at decent preparations. We are also recruiting individuals to be our Blunderdogs - all they need are a couple of brain cells - we’ll provide the bainisteoir’s bibs.”
Further details for interested clubs and individuals are available by contacting Michael at Squareball directly.
Cork Players on Strike in South America
In a bid to gain international support for their principled stance on the matters of who should select them for the Cork senior team, the Rebels have taken their fight to that bastion of good labour practices, Brazil as well as Argentina, the birthplace of the rebel-to-end-all-rebels Che Guevara - and let us not forget that Che Guevara’s father said in 1969 after his martyrdom, “The first thing to note is that in my son’s veins flowed the blood of the Irish rebels.” Man of Cork or what?
Among those going for a Brazilian is hoary old Runai Frank Murphy, sleeping with the enemy is he or just ensuring that the players don’t break any of the conditions of their strike while they are away. Frank has a curious Jekyll and Hyde appeal to the players - some saying if they were tried for murder they would like Murphy to defend him indeed Sadaam Hussein is believed to have thought the Cork veteran could have helped him beat the rap this time last year.
Just in case anyone was in any doubt about the Cork holiday and whether the players had to be herded onto the plane like errant mineworkers in Yorkshire during the Thatcher years, the football squad are adamant that the trip has nothing go to do with the controversy, in that it is largely organised by themselves, and funded by the Croke Park and Munster Council holiday fund, along with the various team sponsors and other fundraising efforts. Well, we suppose they would say that…
One unnamed Cork player, obviously inspired at arriving in the land of Guevara, and following a path trodden by Che’s maternal grandmother’s family, the Lynchs of Mayo, told waiting reporters when asked about the strike, “if you tremble indignation at every injustice then you are a comrade of mine.” When asked about the failure of the Cork forwards in the All Ireland Final by a CNN reporter one of the members of the beleaguered attacking unit reportedly answered that it was a team effort, and was not about individuals, adding: ‘I don’t care if I fall as long as someone else picks up my gun and keeps on shooting.” Indeed.
Hasta la victoria siempre.
Derry to Celebrate Fifteenth Anniversary
Talking Balls can reveal that the Derry Co Board has planned a series of events in 2008 to mark fifteen years since they last won the Sam Maguire, their one and only victory coming in 1993, all of fifteen years ago.
To mark the fifteen year famine, Derry people the length and breadth of the County will be reflecting on a period that has seen near neighbours Tyrone win the Sam Maguire twice, thereby grabbing all the bragging rights. Even a victory in June 2006 Omagh against the second string of the reigning All Ireland champions Tyrone which Derry celebrated like an All Ireland success can’t offset the pangs of longing among the Oak Leafs. For some the anniversary is still crystal clear in their minds, for others it is a dim and distant memory.
One prominent Derry person who declined to be named said: “I can’t wait until 2018 - we will celebrate the silver jubilee since we last won the All Ireland in the style to which we have become accustomed.”
In the meantime, the famine goes on… and on… and on…
Hens Teeth abound as Kilkenny Footballers Play a Match
Those rarest of animals - the Cats that love big balls - had a rare outing yesterday in the O’Byrne Cup against Carlow.
It was certainly a case of Cat and Mouse for a while by all accounts but the tables finally turned and the footballers of Carlow put the Kilkenny men to sword predictably enough. Kilkenny’s performance was ‘encouraging’ according to eye witness accounts - ‘several players were able to actually kick the ball you mean’ shouted the Office WAG. Talking Balls notes that hurling ace Eddie Brennan bagged a penalty but it wasn’t enough. Let’s hope this isn’t a false dawn and they’ll field a few more times this season.
Poly half of Tyrone beat Continuity Tyrone in Ulster Derby
A UUJ team comprising seven or eight Tyrone men, not including injured skipper Peter Donnelly defeated All-Ireland wannabees Tyrone.
Curiously Tyrone supreme Mickey Harte forgot himself with his post match remarks singling out a number of players from the opposition as the stand out players on display and not surprisingly they were all Tyrone men. It was the first defeat suffered by the Red Hands in the Dr McKenna Cup since their defeat to Monaghan in 2003 - not counting the times the Ulster Council took the points off them and then gave them back.
Follow the Yellow Tick Road
Resident Expert Ger Manas reflects on a peaceful family Christmas until TG4 and the Wizard of Oz gets him back in the way of things. His advice for ‘08? Follow the Yellow Trick Road
To be honest with ye now I enjoyed the break over Christmas sittin’ about on me hole, which the wife diplomatically toul me was getting’ bigger day by day, walking the hounddog, goin’ fishin’. Some hoor from Armagh bate me to catchin the first salmon of the year down in the Drouse but to be honest, that salmon fishin’s better left to me brother-in-law. He’s a Cumbrian wily coyote of a hoor and he has that many rods up his sleeve the fish is practically jumpin’ into the net to get away from all the tricks he has. Talk about walkin’ the line!
I made the mistake of tellin’ the wife I was thinkin’ of writin’ about the sort of break I had but she sez ‘what would them deadbeats that read that nonsense you write give a toss about our Christmas and you blowin’ off both ends.’ She’s sometimes right that one. Anyone, we were out shoppin’ one day and I was toul to buy meat so I went into that M&S and lifted a big lump of meat - prime British Aberdeen Angus Beef it says. I went back to empty handed but to be fair after the givin’ out when I told her none of our ones would eat the beef cos it was British she grudgingly agreed. We compromised though - it looked good and Aberdeen’s in Scotland. Ye can never be too inflexible - gets ye into situations it does.
I was watching the telly one night and the best bits of Irish sport was one - now me bein’ me I would have just put down the last fifteen years of hurlin’ and football finals but that’s just the way I am. Next thing yer woman Michelle Smith comes on chattin about winnin’ the Olympics. ‘F**k me,’ sez I to the son, ‘I thought she was suspended.’ He tells me the viewers of TG4 voted her into ninth place. Sometimes I wonder about Irish people and me one of them. Ye can’t even blame the culchies on this one cos everyone gets TG4 nowadays. If you do the crime you should do the time but then I suppose Michelle still has her medals so who am I? The next thing Eamon Coughlan was on and I was near in tears reading listening about him in the Olympics - I remember it well - and then him practically givin’ that Russian boyo the bird as he ran past him in the World Championships - what a legend.
Then Eamon goes and ruins it all by telling us how he was so proud when everyone in Croke Park sang God Save the Queen during that rugby match in Croker last year. I’d have given Eamon a good boot in the hole if I’d got my hands on him in our livin’ room - I know two fellas weren’t singing and that was me and me brother both. I saw people singin’ it right enough that should have known better but, be advised my passport’s green as my good friend famous Seamus once said.
I managed to get kickin’ a bit of ball and hurlin’ too over the break - our club has a few of them charity games and I have to tell ye - the oul magic’s still there. So’s the gut and backside right enough but it’s great coaching young ones how to catch the sliotar when you can show them at first hand how to go up through a crowd and pull her down as if you were after catching a swift, so fast was yer hand in the air. For any of ye coaching catching - that’s the secret, get the hand up and down good and quick. Don’t let is sit up there like an oul clocking hen or someone will pull it off ye.
I watched a couple of the McKenna cup games over the last week and it got me thinkin’ again about yellow carding people - there’s talkin of changing the system again.
Watching the Derry match yesterday where I think three or four of their backs got a yellow and one got subbed you have a situation where a back division can commit a total of eighteen fouls before one is startin’ to look at getting roaded. If each player whales the man early on, he normally gets away with the first one unless he’s a total gouger altogether or the ref’s Gearoid O Conamha (as he likes to be called now). He might then get ticked the next time and only then get the yellow. So you see there, eighteen fouls can be added up in no time. Meanwhile the forward’s getting the shite kicked out of him by one man after another. Now if the forward unit’s dung and there’s only one or two dacent players then that’s when the thing goes wrong. How many times you seen the forward get a card for getting caught when he’s the shirt pulled off him, nip marks all over his hole, bruises up and down his back and a big footprint on the back of his shorts and a couple of muddy knee marks on the front of the shirt? Stevie O’Neill used to be a wile man for just seeing red and whaling some hoor hard as he could.
Nowadays county managers seem to operate this policy and when the man gets his yellow he gets reeled in like the brother-in-law does with the salmon. The real tightrope walker is the man who’s got the yellow and then gets a tick, last chance saloon man that he is. Those boys are few and far between but they dice with death a bit much for my likin’. Sometimes though, like me with the Aberdeen meat ye have to compromise on this one and let them wreck on. This is all grand until ye realise the defenders ye have on the bench are like f**kin navvies, hands like shovels, feet like JCBs and brains like mushed peas. In that case yer nearly better with fourteen or to let the dicey defender follow the yellow trick road. Managing yer allocation of yellows can be the difference between winning and losing so think about it next time yer on the sideline.
Anyway, Happy New Year from me - I made a few resolutions - one was to cut the bad language. So far its goin’ not so bad.
January 8th, 2008 at 1:34 am
One of my resolutions is to publish a history of the GAA in Canada in 2008.
January 14th, 2008 at 11:22 am
Go for it John!!!!