Resident Expert Ger Manas: Many’s a Gulf Between the Cup and the Lip
Talking Balls No Comments »
I came back there the other day to the wind and the coul. I’d been out on holidays with the brother in law and his missus in them Gulf States. Yer man has a load of property interests out there that you could shake a stick at – not like here where he’s goin down the tubes faster than the Cork hurlin’ team.
He suggested meself and the wife go across to float about in one of them dhow jobs and see the craic up and down thon Creek. One day he had to go off to a meeting and I headed on on me own – by jaze I literally ended in the shit up the creek without a paddle. I got chattin to these two young wans from Cork about camogie – players they were from one of the dacent clubs down there, were out in Dubai for a bit of ‘retail therapy’ as they called it. No sign of any husbands but I could guess they were probably sittin at home chewin the nails waitin’ on the VISA bill.
Anyhow, we were chattin about physical training for camogs – as you do. They got to askin me about tacklin drills. I was showin them this warm up we do in training that involves you keeping yourself between the sliotar and your opponent and controllin’ the ball. It requires good use of the arse and elbows and to be honest if a camogs got a good big backside on her, which to be honest less of them do these days with all that core training they do and all them support yokes they wear nowadays to stop excessive shudderin and wobblin, then the drill works a treat. I was showing these two yokes this drill outside a restaurant using a brush and a couple of mangoes I’d bought. I was shoutin to one of them “Back onto me, back on to me…” when one of them police fellas arrive. Jazes but he was the door hoor. Try explainin to one of them boys that I was talking camogie. Course that meant as much to him as if I’d be tellin him what pigs ate for breakfast – he got more and more revved – fornicatin he thought we were. I spoke slowly and louder and was saying “It’s great craic, the girls houl the stick in wan hand, the wrist action is important – they try to pull hard or get it up if they can.” One of the girls this stage tried to get offside but yer man’s friends had arrived in their car at this stage and were doin a wile bit of jabberin and pointin altogether.
I only found out later about them two wans that got put in gaol for getting it on down on the beach. At least they were supposed to be up to something. All I was at was demonstratin a trainin’ drill. After bit of explainin and that by the fella in the restaurant who was from Hackballscross direction the cop reluctantly decided to let me go but not before he gave me a wile bollicksing about “respect for young women”. The young wan Deirdre, she got it worse.
What’s all this got to do with the price of beans? Well, home I gets a few days later and our camogie captain rings me up. “Ger,” sez this wan “The girls were chattin and we’re for headin to play in an oul sevens competition and we were wonderin if you would go with us for the craic.”
“Where is it?” Sez I thinking she was maybe talking about the Kilmacuds or the competition over in Galsgow we went to once.
When she sez Dubai, I near dropped. “I’ll think about it sez I”.
It turned out that she had known one of the girls from playin’ colleges with her and yer wan had sent her a text message to tell she’d met me and the craic with the Arabian policeman. There was me havin’ visions of being some big turk’s bitch for six months and these women were crackin their holes laughin’ at me. Hoors. twas a kick in the hole they needed.
So there ye have it – we’re for headin’ to Dubai if we can all afford it. The club committee’s tould the players they cannot fundraise in any way because of other developments in the club. I reckon its cos them bollixes never thought of it first but no matter. Someone asked me at the meeting what would happend if some sheikh took a shine to one of our players. Sez I “ye’d better buy a bigger field to fit a pile of camels in beside them cows, llamas and ostrich ye have. That daughter of yours woukld be worth a right few bastes.”
Anyway, to be honest I think them Arab boys would have their work cut out dealin with a camog in the house. Bad enough having to train them they’re that f*** unpredictable and hard to work with. Imagine living with one. Ye wouldn’t wish it on an Arab policeman!
