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Glensman, hurlin’ aye bae, dinnae ken fudball

The Antrim Co Board, led by none other than the venerable Dr John McSporran, himself a native of the Glens, have announced a promotional scheme that will introduce gaelic fudball to the residents of the Glens.

These mountainy savages are of course more used to hurling the small ball, but with Antrim’s unprecedented success with the big ball, the time has come to educate everyone north of Ballymena. It is hoped that the likes of people from Loughgiel, Cushendall, Cushendun, Armoy will come down from the hills in their droves, pluck the straw out of their beards and matted hair to venture to Clones for the Ulster Final.

As part of the plan big signs hi, will be put up along the M2 after Ballymena saying “Ulster Fudball Final, the Other Road.” The scheme is part of a number of promotional efforts to spread the Gospel in Belfast and Antrim that include banning white Celtic tracksuits from St Tiernach’s Park and prohibiting the singing of ‘Are you Rangers in disguise’ by the Shafties.

One big lad from Ballycastle said “Aye dinnae ken wha’ all thesuns are so worked up about. I wush ye had a-seen the set o them. I may’n gaen tae Clunes, quare oul drive bai, It’s gan tae be a’ by before we get there Ay’d sai. I be afeart themins frae Teerone ‘ll have ouruns bate frae they get oon the feeld.”

Anyhow, for anyone who meets someone frae the Glens at the game and cannae understand a word they say, here are a few phrases that may help:

An Antrim forward, when encountering interference from Ryan McMenamin may be heard to say: “Whut ir ye footerin at?”

If on the receiving end of some ‘verbal jousting’ the Antrim player might respond: “Whut ir ye ganshin aboot?”

Upon hearing after wards that due to concussion he missed most of the game following a collision with Dooher, but that Antrim only lost by a few: “A wuz qwerly gunkt tae hear thon.”

To the Antrim defence in disarray after another Tyrone attack cuts a swathe right through it: “Redd thon hash up, wud ye.”

To a passing shapely female Tyrone fan in one of the new Squareball Club and County tee shirts: “Tha joogins is hingin oot a it.”

At half time when a gobshite from Dungannon stumbles into you, obviously under the influence of too much Magners and Vodkae: “Dinnae jundy mey while A drink mae tae!”

When listening to a pile of lads from Coalisland prematurely celebrating a Tyrone victory: “Listen tae tha keehos a them.”

On a big lad from the Glens being ejected from Clones for disorderly conduct: “Tha police oxtert ‘im oot”

Upon crashing the car when checking out the talent wearing one of them new Squareball tee shirts: “Spose it dinged yir motor?” - “Well ay, shey hit mey a qwer sough, hi!”

When the corner forward fails to track Ricey up the field as he posts yet another score: “As lazy as sheugh waater”

Post match interview on having marked Brian Dooher: “A cunnae thole thon boy fur any lenth a time.”

On getting home tae the Glens after your day out in Clones at the fudball, and looking for some evening entertainment: “g’efter thon yo, wud ye”

A ‘Football Feast’: two quarter-final games and both semi-finals at a cost of €99. ‘Hurling Heaven’: one quarter-final and both semis and is priced at €90. Other deals include Co Board Cash in - Free of Charge.

County managers the length and breadth of the country have been looking enviously at Galway where the Tribe’s hurling board chairman Miko Ryan has been suspended for eight weeks arising from a sideline incident involving a selector during last Saturday week’s Leinster SHC semi-final against Kilkenny.


An internal investigation found that Ryan clashed with selector John Moylan during the second half of the high-profile Tullamore tie, which Galway lost to the All-Ireland champions by four points. Initial investigations examined the theory that Miko was lookin’ a drink out of a waterbottle, but Moylan said the drink was for the players only.

Whatever happened there’s many’s the county management set-up would enjoy a bit of peace and quiet away from the Blazers and Powers That Be.

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Good news for the lesser lights of hurling this week as the Powers That Be announce that the finals of the three less prominent competitions will be played in Croker. Saturday 11 July is the big day for the finalists in the Lory Meagher, Nicky Rackard and Christy Ring Cups. Last year you will recall the authorities courted controversy by suggesting the Christy Ring Final could be played in Croke park on a Friday night before rescheduling it to a school all weather pitch on a different date. At least now the hurlers of a lesser sod will get their day in the Sun. Big carrot too for the winners of the Crusty Ring as they get automatically elevated into the Liam for the first time. Bad news for Antrim hurlers. Are the heading for the trapdoor as the footballers claim their place in the Sun?

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Banty McEneaney has rightly earned a reputation for the colour of his language. Obviously his gift of the gab is rubbing off on his players. Heard of kissing the Blarney Stone? Well up in Monaghan maybe kissing Banty’s stones has the same effect.
This week corner back Dermot McArdle was ruminating on Monaghan’s chances against Armagh sans ace attacker Freeman. Sez he:

“He scores at least five, six points every game from frees or from play and he is always going to take their best defender out of the game as well.”

The latter comment maybe just an unfortunate choice of words giving the circumstances of Freeman’s suspension. But, obviously down Monaghan-way, the jug is half full, well under Banty anyhow:

“You can look at it two ways, as a huge loss or a huge opportunity to prove we can play without him. He was sent off inside the first two minutes of the league game against Armagh so maybe that might help.”

Indeed, Glass half full of McArdle’s please.

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Banana skin or what? Down manager Ross Carr has written off London’s chance of causing an upset when they play the Mourne County next week in the qualifier. Sez Carr: “we should come through it. I’ll put it like this if we don’t I’ll be in London next year. . . it’s a game that we have to win and also put down a marker in.”

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Derry’s man of the moment James Kielt gave an interesting view of the Tyrone football team ahead of last week’s semi final defeat. Talking about the incident that left him apparently ‘sucking weetabix through a straw’ Kielt said: “It’s not that sore but it would be if I got a bang. I never considered playing against Tyrone. I was ready for training, but they’re one crowd you’d need to be right for.”

That’s one crowd you’d need to be right for???? Would the fact that the Ballinderry team sits astride the Derry Tyrone border and draw players from both sides have anything to do with this or are we reading too much into things here?

Silence is Golden - Self imposed media ban since Cork didn’t cut the mustard.

GAA fans the length and breadth of the country have welcomed the GPA’s announcement that their members will not be giving broadcast press interviews ahead of the Munster SHC Final featuring Waterford and Tipp nor indeed for the Leinster SFC Final featuring the Dubs and Geezer’s Lillywhites. It is not known either whether Geezer himself, as a former GPA stalwart will extend a fraternal hand of solidarity and decline media interviews ahead of the game.

He has already broken cover to give the PTB a shoeing over their refusal to let other counties train on the Hallowed Croke soil whilst the Dubs get meaningless training matches against the likes of Westmeath.

On the players media blackout, one prominent GAA supporter said: “Thanks be to Jesus we will be spared the sort of anodyne crap these boys serve up ahead of games. I only wish Cork were in the Final so that eejit Cusack could serve a self imposed ban, save us listening to him blather on.”

“The players think they are discomfiting the public? They are doing us a favour. I have heard enough vacuous nonsense over the last couple of weeks to do me a lifetime. How hard the manager works, tales of legendary training sessions up some backwoods, or ins some shady corner of a muddy Junior Club pitch that searches a spotlight into players souls. These boys should get a kick up the hole and be told to get on with it.”

The official statement said that players “will not be available for sports programming on the relevant channels or any GAA sponsors promotional activity around these two fixtures. In no other aspect will the staging of the two finals be affected by the actions of the GPA and its members.”



“The GPA has requested the GAA to fund a series of enhanced player welfare programmes in the critical areas of employment, career development and health and wellbeing services.”

One way round the problem is thought to be a Section 31-style approach that would see players replaced by cardboard dummies and their bland and trite soundbites delivered by actors. Already Colin Farrell has agreed to voice Alan Brogan whilst Kildare Officer and Gentleman Dermot Early will be voiced by Pierce Brosnan. It is thought there will be a line up of volunteers to do Dan Shanahan orally.

Beach trainin’ for the casual footballer

In an attempt to wrest middle aged GAA fans off the sofa, stop the spread of blubber across the living room and generally return formerly active but now sedentary GAA members to active life, a number of clubs have introduced the concept of social football.

Originally one of the better brainchilds of former Uachtaran, Sean Kelly, the idea is gradually gaining some currency. That is unlike his doomed proposal to have Camogs cavort round the pitch in some sort of semi-horned-up beauty pageant that ironically would have targeted the same audience as the social football. Anyhow we digress. One club of our acquaintance began the experiment the other evening with positive results and as importantly no visits to the fracture clinic or Cardiac Unit.

A gathering of around twenty players was organized. There were those that could run but couldn’t kick; those that could kick but couldn’t run; and those that could do neither. There were none present that could both run and kick, so the concept of bursting off the shoulder and taking the ball on the break was an alien concept. As was the idea of kicking the diagonal ball into space for the corner forward to run on to. Typically by the time the corner forward got there the ball had rolled to a dead stop so, with a creaking of the back the player would bend to lift the ball. However most diagonal balls were a direct result of either a total miss-kick or a rather forlorn reliance on former glories. One or two players were so inept it was impossible to predict with any certainty where the ball once kicked would land. Indeed players definitely would have more chance of scooping a winning Lotto ticket than predicting the where the ball would land when. It all added to the excitement.

Some of the players had played a bit before the onset of middle aged spread but after the warm-up a number were sent crawling for the liberal scattering of water bottles.

Surprisingly no-one was injured, there was no rows, age having appeared to have blunted the aggressive edge. At this age, and in this heat, all possible energy is required to just get your hands on the ball. It’s a game of inches, so one step too short you might not get there, one step too far and you risk tearing something. The idiots you need are all around you but some of them were that far gone, purple faced, lolling tongue and soaking in perspiration that the humane thing was not to pass them the ball.

The game was a low scoring affair, the impotence of the respective forward units would suggest that these lads will welcome with open arms the recent news that viagra will soon be on sale over the counter in pharmacies in the six counties. Anything to stiffen the resolve in front of goal and enable fellas to shoot straight. The whole concept of the ball stop was rigorously questioned several times - one attempt cleared it to the side and several others sailed over, not having trouble the two big white pipes en route.

Having said all of the above, the players loved it. No doubt long suffering wives and partners had to listen to exaggerated tales long into the night. The true cost is the following morning when the Casual footballer tries to get out of bed. At that stage her indoors will lose the temper and ban the mention of the subject ever again. But he’ll be back next week for more, sure there’s nothing like it. 6:30 Sunday night, legends in their own lunchtimes.