Eating crisps in shame and thinking of Michael Collins FROM THE SPORTS VAULTS
WEDNESDAY: APRIL 21
AFTER an early start, several cans of Red Bull, fretting about deadlines and wounds of fatigue, a mental salve was an unhurried, barefooted walk along the squishy sand of west Sligo’s Trawee Beach.
As we reached Sligo town there was a gorgeous sunset, the sun was a flaming ball, and we didn’t stop to take a picture. I was anxious about this and wondered if there would be another sunset worth taking a picture of, mainly for my Instagram urges.
My television viewing was mixed. TG4, which more often than not offers viewing gems, had a brilliant programme – Na Saora Báid – about boat builders. This episode looked at how a canvas currach was constructed. The absolute skill involved as the boat took shape before ending up as a ‘slippery’ (fast) craft in the sea was a joy to watch. Narrated by Eamonn de Buitléir, it was first broadcast in 2002. Another beautiful aspect of the programme was to listen to the ebb and flow of the Irish being spoken. Such a musical language. Our language. One that is being lost.
To balance out the yin of this programme, I then watched the yang of GI Joe Queenan: The Rise of Cabra (actually the film is just GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra).
THURSDAY: APRIL 22
TOO tired to do anything meaningful today, I got up in time for another walk at Trawee. This is arguably Sligo’s finest beach, quiet, exceedingly scenic and always soothing.
But – unsurprisingly – we’re not the only ones there. Several vans, camper vans and cars were parked up and their occupants, mainly surfers, were catching what waves they could.
If this sounds like I’ve joined the Covid-19 Police, you’d be right. For a moment I thought I was in ‘Little Dublin’, such were the distinctive accents. It is inter-county training and not inter-county travel that’s allowed, right?
I was just about to start taking down vehicle registrations when herself wisely told me to mind my own business.
Later on we savoured a couple of takeway growlers from Thomas Connolly (filled with delicious craft beer, The White Hag’s Ninth Wave). As we supped, we thought that life wasn’t that bad after all.
Soccer fans who mistakenly believe that the devil has been defeated because the European Super League won’t come into being, should think again. Money has already ruined the beautiful game and will continue to. In the small hours there was a tweak in my mood and so I binged. After working my way through crisps, biscuits and noodles, I vowed to become thin and funny again.
FRIDAY: APRIL 23
MY days have become too predictable. I suspect that things will be different once the full spectrum of live, local agonisingly there for the taking. United, who need to improve their team in several areas before even considering themselves title contenders, have now registered seven scoreless draws this season. Had they won four of these games they’d be two points clear of City. All of their current silverware eggs are in the basket called the Europa League. I hope they don’t mess up the opportunity.
A television programme to lift one’s heart is certainly Paul O’Grady: For the Love of Dogs. But Line of Duty continues to leaves me wrapped in utter, stressful confusion.
MONDAY: APRIL 26
I WOKE up this morning – before you chortle that this is somehow breaking news, just think that if I didn’t wake up at all and fell into a permanent sleep then this diary would have ended with yesterday’s entry – and thought that I had a dream about Michael Collins and working in a
Free State aviary.
Maybe it was a dream about Michael Collins playing the lead role in the biopic of Liam Neeson.
Then it struck me. I had fallen asleep upstairs while downstairs herself watched the 1996 film about Michael Collins (directed by Neil Jordan and starring Liam Neeson as ‘The Big Fellah’). With the television’s volume turned up, the film merged with my sleepy thoughts.
Myself and herself took an afternoon stroll in the Rosses Point sunshine, accompanied by the dogs. I found a stray piece of wood, half buried in the sand.
Later we watched Crimecall on RTÉ. Are we tough enough on those who commit crimes? Or have we, as a society, failed and so created an environment where crime is the only outlet/solution for many of our fellow citizens? We couldn’t answer these questions immediately but both myself and herself commented on the state of Crimecall presenter Sharon Ní Bheoláin’s outfit. Enraged, we called the Fashion Police.
TUESDAY: APRIL 27
THE day before the Deadline Jolly. Stacking cans of Red Bull at the desk is a sure sign that there are late hours to come. “Who will take my place?” I asked myself this, yet inspired by that dream/film of Michael Collins. Or, more to the point, who will continue this diary when sport returns and Covid-19 is gone. What sort of better world would we have had if Michael Collins, Martin Luther King, John F Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy and John Lennon had not been assassinated? Speaking of JFK, the person not the parade named after him in Sligo town, on a bookshelf in the parlour (also known as ‘the good room’) of the home place in Killeenduff, Easkey was a book called The Death of a President. Written by William Manchester, it was a record of the days before and after JFK’s death. As a kid I often glanced at the book’s jacket, never venturing into the text within, and now, years later, I’m not sure if this precious tome is still there.
MEMBERSHIP
Membership is open for 2021 and can be completed online via www.castleconnor.sligo.gaa. ie/membership-2021.
RIVALRY
With Sligo drawn against Mayo in this summer’s Connacht GAA Senior Football Championship, the banter has already begun with our members on the Mayo side of the parish.
CONGRATS
The club extends Barnes Murphy on his appointment to the honorary position of vice-president of Sligo GAA. Also, best wishes to former senior player Patrick McGuinness and his wife Nicola on the birth of their baby son Ben.