Too Keane to have a moan
STRANGE things happen to
● some men when they put on shorts. Throw them a ball on a yard of astroturf, and they get even stranger.
Some seem to think that
●
Roy Keane applies to and is relevant to their lives. Usually, but not always, they are Manchester United supporters.
And when they begin to
● play a five-a-side they take on Roy Keane’s persona – complaining every time a pass is misplaced, or shot tapped wide.
They walk around like they’re
● in a Champions League final, wringing their hands and scowling at others’ mistakes.
And they’re usually the ones
● who give the ball away most – the Keane impersonation not extending to passing completion.
Today, I ask those men
● everywhere to button it. It’s just football with mates. If we want to be nagged, we’ve plenty of other options elsewhere.
I TRY to not let things I’ve no control over get to me – giant sinkholes fall into that category.
Like the giant sinkhole that suddenly presented itself in Chile on Tuesday.
I looked at it and said: “That’s a big hole I can do nothing about.”
It being in Chile and me in Galway meant I could be sympathetic to anyone or anything in the giant sinkhole, and the people of Chile, but not much more.
Then on Wednesday, the first thing I read about was a giant sinkhole in Clare – significantly closer to where I live than
Chile.
Shrug
This – and the accompanying image – significantly marred my morning coffee and slice of toast.
The Clare giant sinkhole was too close to shrug off.
We weren’t talking Aillwee Caves style of sinkhole here. There’s no better folk than Clare folk to make a tourist attraction out of something.
But this new sinkhole – I rubbed my eyes and blinked, and looked at the photo of it – it was big enough to fit a Davy Fitz ego into.
It was huge beyond comprehension. Bigger – and probably more expensive in the long run – than the Cliffs of Moher carpark.
I automatically presumed that most of Ireland’s traditional music scene had been
And what about the people? Were they OK? My thoughts jumped to all the thousands of relatives of Muhammad Ali there, or hopefully still there. If Lisdoonvarna was gone – and matchmaker Willie Daly’s matchmaking skills gone with it – there would be global population number ramifications.
Seaside
And what about Kilkee – the one seaside town in the country I’ve not been to for reasons probably best saved for private conversations, not publication?
These thoughts haunted me and it wasn’t even 9am. This was a nightmare start to the day for the people of Clare and, well, mainly for the people of Clare.
Until I put my glasses on, squinted at the news report again, and realised the Clare sinkhole was actually the Chile one. I just misread it.
Yup, we’re all a bit jumpy these days... Jumpy, and heavily relying on opticians.