Sporting overload as feast follows famine
SOME WOULD have you believe that you can’t get too much of a good thing, and in the words of Depeche Mode they just can’t get enough, but this contrary, mumbling under his breath fool begs to differ.
I’m all too aware that it’s a case of needs must this year, but having a heap of sports all piled on top of each other in a massive ruck does little to whet the appetite, and it’s simply a case of overkill when an entire weekend can be spent channel hopping from one code to another.
In normal circumstances one of the great things about sport is how it works so seamlessly, and although it has the odd crossover along the way, you could pretty much plan your diary from the start of the year to the end.
The likes of the Six Nations and the Cheltenham Festival light up the springtime, soccer seasons come to a climax in April and May, and the GAA thrills us through the heady days of summer, before autumn internationals ease us into winter.
Throw in World Cups, European Championships, Olympics et al and there’s always plenty to keep us sporting fans entertained.
At the moment, however, it’s just an unrelenting deluge and although I report on sport for a living, there’s no way that I’d want to watch it from morning until night recreationally.
For starters, I have the others in the house to think about, so time has to be made for a family movie or activity, while getting out in the fresh air for a bit of exercise is far more important that seeing Dublin hammering Laois in yet another Leinster football championship mismatch.
In fairness, it’s quite easy to turn the attentions away from sport when many of the Nations League matches are on, given that international football has sadly been on a downward trajectory for years.
Most fans are more taken with club football these days, and couldn’t care less about those representing their country – and who could blame them, given that the Champions League is of a far higher quality than international tournaments, and with 24 teams at the Euros next summer it will be like an over-watered squash that’s been too heavily diluted.
While it’s undoubtedly brilliant for nations like North Macedonia to reach the finals, it certainly won’t do anything to heighten the standard of a competition that used to only welcome the best of the best.
That said, even with all and sundry invited to the party, we still couldn’t secure a coveted invitation, which is probably just as well because we’d most likely get lost en route given how lacking in direction and goal-shy we’ve become.
Just getting the ball in the back of the bloody net is Ireland’s number one priority now, never mind qualifying for a major tournament.
It’s the first time ever that the Republic of Ireland have gone six games without scoring, but surely Wednesday night’s match against Bulgaria in the Aviva Stadium will be the ideal chance to put that damning statistic right.
However, given what we’ve seen of late, unless you have Houdini-like lung capacity it probably wouldn’t be advisable to hold your breath.
It’s not just the Irish footballers that have been a tough watch, as despite attempting to view with a completely open mind, I still haven’t fully bought into this whole GAA championships in the depths of winter malarkey.
However much those with vested interests try to dress it up, the hurling championship has rarely risen above average so far.
There has been a succession of games decided by long-range shoot-outs, with points being scored at will, with little in terms of quality build-up play and not much pressure on the shooter.
That said, Richie Hogan showed us that the blood hasn’t completely drained from the game with a sublime bit of skill and Kilkenny cuteness as his beautifully-taken goal helped the Cats topple Galway in the Leinster final. What’s rare is wonderful and all that.
There’s no getting away from the fact that hurling is a summer game, and although we can never be too reliant on the weather on these shores at the best of times, June, July and August are far more conducive to good stick work, although to their credit the players are giving it their all in trying circumstances.
The truth remains, though, that a number of games have already been blunted by the elements, with strong winds in particular taking the goodness out of a number of encounters.
I never enjoy watching a match that’s dictated by a gale, because from the off it’s complete guesswork how much of a buffer the team playing with the elements will need to build up by half-time.
You often hear commentators saying it’s a five- or six-point wind, but rather than using some age old
formula they’re simply plucking a figure out of the stubborn breeze, so it’s difficult to know if your team hasn’t a prayer or still has a fighting chance at the interval.
On Sunday, following an afternoon that included a plethora of Gaelic games, international football, rugby, golf and horse racing from Cheltenham, just to mention a few, after getting the kids off to bed, there was still plenty more to sink my teeth into if I hadn’t had my fill by that stage.
There was a host of highlights programmes to choose from – Nations League, the Autumn Nations Cup, The Sunday Game, The Masters, or if I fancied some live action I could check out a bit of NFL.
I’d normally watch two flies racing up the wall just for that competitive fix, but it has to stop somewhere and sometimes less is more and quality always beats quantity.
By that stage of the evening, switching on Ant and Dec to watch celebrities of varying degrees chewing on sheep’s testicles seemed far more palatable.
I’m a sports reporter, get me the hell out of here!