The things you’d miss the most
A man stopped me on the road the other day and told me one of the main things he misses about the GAA since the lockdown was implemented was being able to unleash a mouthful of abuse at someone during a game. He maintained it allowed him vent many of his frustrations built up during his daily life. I can see where he’s coming from to be fair. Although I don’t condone mouthfuls of abuse to anyone... unless you know them really well, of course.
But it got me thinking about the things that a person would miss about the GAA and when you sit down and scratch the thinning hair there are a large number ranging from the obvious smell of fresh cut grass, the hard ground, the roar after a score, the joy of a championship win to the power-hungry collectors on the club gates who seem to find inspiration in Trump’s presidency given their insane levels of ignorance an impudence.
Our lives are entwined with the GAA, there’s no other way to say it. We are meshed with it and it with us. It forms a vital part of our lives, gives us a means to rid ourselves of tensions, frustrations, gifts us friendships, adventures, a sense of belonging, enemies, all the juicy stuff, and hard-crusted sandwiches and warm cordial as well, can’t forget those necessities.
Here’s my top 10:
10 – Go Games. Lads wouldn’t you miss the Go Games something terrible. If you’re at home it’s marking out the pitches, asking people (usually women, let’s be fair) to arrange food, welcoming the other clubs, many of whom you will have history with. You see the coaches glancing over your pitches. You hope that young referee turns up because the last thing you need is to have to referee this shower as well. They’ll torment you. Well, you won’t be taking it, simple as that.
If you’re at home you’re WhatsApping parents to have their children there. The sound ones reply but there’s always the others, the ones who leave you watching the blue ticks expectantly. Maybe they’ll grave you with a reply this time. Nope!
9 – The shop in Aughrim. Wouldn’t an auld lukewarm bottle of Lucozade be lovely now, handed to you by the chuckling Philip Doyle in that lovely way of his, and maybe a Kitkat, or a cup of rocketfuel coffee to send you over the edge.
8 – Tension on the sideline. I’d give anything for some sideline tension. A little bit of Michael Neary v. James Hickey would do the job, or Harry Murphy v. Alan Costello would do either. Throw in a slice of Pat Carthy (Ballymanus) and Peadar Smyth (Kilmac) for dessert and you’d be a happy man.
7 – Ah ref. Referees are humans too, apparently, but is there anyone else pining for a chorus of ‘ah ref’ as a championship clash goes down to the wire?
6 – Losing the children in Aughrim. We’ve all been there. A break in play jolts you back to reality and you say to yourself, ‘where are the chaps?’ You scan the Rednagh Hill end before moving across to the stand side but you can’t find them. ‘Surely they’re ok,’ you think. Then, out of nowhere, they appear beside you asking for money for the shop. Children are so clever!
5 – That trip to Balto. Yeah, no championship summer would be the same without a trip to Baltinglass for the big championship game. That lovely little stand that seems to encourage heckling among supporters, the high bank beside it that children love to destroy their clothes on and the hilly pitch out the back that drains the legs in the warm up. The scenery is exceptional as well.
4 – The dressing room. The click clack of the boots, the stench of Deep Heat, water bottles, Jaffa Cakes, palms punched with vigour, plans evaluated, history dragged up, profanities roared and water bottles hoofed in the storm of emotions.
3 – The roar of the crowd. It’s just a beautiful thing really. Whether it’s Aughrim or Ashford, Croke Park or Carnew, when that ball sails between the posts or screams past the goalkeeper, when nothing else matters but that moment and everything else is forgotten, there’s just nothing like it.
2 – The final whistle. Job done, championship over, dream achieved, hugs and kisses and tears of joy. There are few happier places than the middle of the field in Aughrim when you finish on the winning side and you are surrounded by family and friends and colleagues as you await the call from the stand for the presentation to begin.
1 – That Aughrim feedback. You know it’s that time of year when the county chairman starts to speak and the microphone starts acting the maggot in Aughrim.
Great men have been reduced to trembling wrecks by the sound system in the county grounds but what I wouldn’t give for one ear-splitting shriek around now.