Growing up
I was never a great man in school, I often struggled to understand the simple
things. Sure even to this day, I find myself under awful pressure trying to
identify where to stick “There & Their” into a sentence. Only for
spell-check you would be fairly puzzled trying to read my stories. I reckon my aul man must have dropped me when I was
baba because that part of my brain has been nonexistent since the get go!
I struggled
through both primary and secondary school, ducking and diving out of any
homework I got “I’m telling ya teacher, I had it all done and forgot my copy
book”.
During my
last 2 years of Secondary school, instead of the traditional leaving cert were
you are expected to sit 37 exams over 2 weeks and your poor hand bolloxed tired
filling the English paper full of waffle, I went for the easier more enjoyable
option that is Leaving Cert Applied.
So I
basically had nothing but pure craic for my last two years of school and I
don’t regret it in the slightest. The only bad thing about it was that there
wasn’t a drop of rain in the dessert chance of UCD, DCU, DIT or any of the
other big guns entertaining me and my ‘merit’ in LCA.
So, when I
left school of course the mother annoyed the life out of me to do something
with myself;
“You’re not
hanging around this house sticking your head in & out of the fridge all
day; you may get a job or go to a college that might take you!”
“Jaysus ma I’ll sort something out, any
chance of tea and toast!!”
Being very
into sport I said I would do the ‘fitness instructor’ course in Colaiste Ide,
Finglas, even if it was just to keep the parents happy. I arrived in on my
first day, wearing the Meath tracksuit, wanting to tell the whole collage, I
play for my county. Typical young GAA lad thing to do.
After a few
days in collage, I approached my tutor; “What’s
the craic with football in this place, when we training?”. He said they fielded
a team alright but they were never any good, they’d never won a thing. The year
I was there we had 5 or 6 solid players. We had Dublin’s double All Ireland
winner and a pure hardy buck; Philly McMahon, along with his club teammate; Ballymun’s Duracell battery Alan Hubbard and a pure
talent in St. Vincent’s utility man and Leinster club medal winner Willie Lowry
– Willie is a genius at football, I’ve never met a man to take the piss out of
opposing players like Wille did. A pure class
act!
We also had
a couple of Meath minors at the time including my big awkward frame; so I felt
that we had the spine of a decent team sorted. I reckoned that we’d give this
competition a right good rattle. All we needed
to do was gather up 5/6 lads to field a team. Well, you would want to have seen
some of the ‘bandits’ we had togging out for us. There were 2 or 3 lads who we
thought looked a bit ‘wirey’ and asked them to play” fancy playing a bit of
football lad?” “eh, like Soccer” No, Gaelic, the real mans sport
“Ah well I
played a bit of GAA in school alright, I wouldn’t be great, but if yis are
stuck I’ll play alright”
These type
of heads, all heart but wouldn’t have the foggiest what a ‘square ball’ meant.
One lad,
woeful sound chap, we used to put the number 15 on his back in every game and
ask him to stand in the corner for the hour and try hit a lad with a shoulder
if possible. He used to arrive to every game in a pair of summer shorts, jet
black ‘Dunnes Stores’ socks, and a pair of them astro runners that you’d buy
below at the Fairyhouse market. He also had a pair of glasses on him that were
thick enough to survive a smack of a sledge hammer. “I have to wear them Rory, I
can’t see a bleedin’ thing without them”. He reminded me of that little chap
out of the film “The little giants” were the mother sent him into battle
covered head to toe in bubble wrap.
Then there
was our north Dublin ‘Intimidator’, he was brought along to give us that rough
look, “fuck, these lads will murder us if we act the bollox”. He’d play the
game with a jewelry box full of gold on him, from the Nike earrings to the
knuckle duster sovereigns, he looked like a lad who would take your head off ya
if you asked for a sup of his water bottle, if truth be
told he was a gentleman and wouldn’t harm a fly, but he struck a bit of false
fear into the opposition so that’s all that mattered!
We
defiantly weren’t the only collage who had to round up 15 lads at the last
minute to play a game. I remember one day we played a team from up north. We
were expecting big hardy brutes, giving the dominance of Ulster football at the
time, but no, they were woeful!! I’m still convinced that they were the college
soccer team because they were absolutely Cat.
There was
this one lad; ah the collar up, socks up and baggy shorts on him. You knew by
the head of him he hadn’t the slightest drop of GAA in his blood. Whenever he
got a ball he’d throw it on the ground and head for goal. Every time this happened his manager would roar in an
outrageously thick Derry accent;
“acccttt
pick er up sir, you’re not playing saccer now bhoy”. Philly Mac managed to
score 2-4 from play with the number 3 on his back that day. One of the goals he
scored he was teed up for a header - that kind of opposition! We’d have been
better off playing a game of ‘heads and volleys’ for the hour!
We had
great craic playing the matches. Most games, the standard was no better than
Junior B, so it was very enjoyable. I remember
the semi final of the competition so well. We were a point down with 1 min to
go. Lowry ran the pitch and hand passed the ball
to our lethal number 15, who palmed it to the net and we’d won! I’ve never seen
such a happier lad on a field in all my life, “I love the GAA lads, fookin
whopper so it is” he says to us in the dressing rooms after.
We went on
to win the all Ireland Division 3 that year, (behind Sigerson & trench cup). It was the most enjoyable few months of football
I’ve ever played. I believe our lethal number 15
is still kicking ball for Parnells Junior D team. The likes of him is what
really makes the GAA; pure characters!
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