Resident Expert, Ger Manas: Great Time for the Men in White Coats
Talking Balls
This week Resident Expert Ger Manas gives some respect to that much maligned but much needed member of the GAA family - the Club Umpire. Without him there’d be no matches, no craic and much less controversy. Sure and then where would we be?
Controversy blows up from time to time over umpires’ decisions. Sure the fellas that’s complaining don’t know what they’re talking about half the time. Anyone who’s worth their salt knows that a decent umpire can be worth two or three points a game.
Every Club needs one, the flag waving, card carrying man in the white coat. As well as signalling scores, he keeps time, offers specialist coaching for your inside forwards, and distracts the opposing ‘keeper by opining on the matters of the day, asked for or not. Nothin’ better than a good umpire that’s good at puttin’ a keeper off - especially when there’s a penalty or a high dropping ball or whatnot.
Some pitches ye go to there’s no umpires’ flags, in fact flags and the like would be the exception rather than the rule most places we play. Essentials for yer umpire are a decisive downward motion indicating a goal; a resolute finger pointing skywards - cúilín amháin; a raised outward palm signalling a 45 or a 65; and a brisk scissor motion of the arms across the chest - umpiring sign language for: The. Ball. Was. Wide. He rules on Squareball and off-the-ball-activity at club level, opinions ignored by the referee, proffered nonetheless as ye have to do.
I say he, but jaze I know of one outfit in the West where a big hefty doll stands in beside the goalposts. Unsuspecting opponents think because she’s a woman she can be effed out of it. But it is the other team’s supporters who usually come off the worst in sledging or or slabbering or whatever goes on. Extremely coorse language, and a menacing stare honed through years of goalkeeping for a junior camogie team in Limerick keep most of the bollixes away outta the road.
Our man - a solid individual and three times winner of Clubman of the Year - is called Risteard. He has this season been red-carded three times and five times assaulted - once seriously - in the course of his duties. He has dismantled four rows and one minor case of handbags as they call it, with a good punch in the jaw and a boot in the hole if required. A man after me own heart.
Risteard has a motto for life that he carries onto the field - whether football, hurling or camogie: ‘If in doubt, give it out.’ He used to work down the meat factory as a slaughterman and was a fullback who kept a tidy square himself. He’s as merciless with the 50/50 ball as he was with cattle and opposing full-forwards. His playing career ended after being jundeyed by an over-anxious cow facing the bolt, with damage done to his knee the likes of which will never be seen again.
As he tould me one night with a few jorums of John Jameson on board, when the referee in the sky consults him one last time, deep into stoppage time, on the final day, as one day he will for all of us, his mortal remains will go to their place of rest with a white coat folded on the box and a guard of honour. Of flags green and white, for a heart of gold.