Shaving before United lost and getting lost near Louth FROM THE SPORTS VAULTS
WEDNESDAY: MAY 26
ANOTHER outstanding example of a world gone completely bonkers:
The ‘Charlie Bit My Finger’ YouTube video, basically a clip of a baby biting his older brother’s finger, uploaded in 2007, has been sold as a non-fungible token for approximately £600,000.
The original clip, which was viewed almost 900 million times (two of those views were mine), will no longer be available on YouTube.
With time to kill before I sat down to watch United’s Europa League final against Villarreal, I decided to remove my beard. Trimming it wasn’t an option. Clean-shaven, I told herself that I sort of resembled Michael Bolton (the US crooner who has sold over 75 million records according to Wikipedia). Having misheard me as saying that I looked like Michael from Bolton, herself was perplexed.
To add another layer of confusion, I started singing parts of ‘How Do I Live’, as sung by Trisha Yearwood for the Con Air soundtrack – in the mistaken belief that this was a Michael Bolton song or even something warbled by a Michael from Bolton.
United broke my heart, again. I turned the sound down during the penalty shoot-out against Villarreal, thinking this would aid David De Gea’s concentration. It should never have come down to this goalkeeper’s penalty miss.
Too many of United’s aces were subdued (chiefly Bruno Fernandes, Paul Pogba and Marcus Rashford) and Harry Maguire was certainly missed from the defence. Furthermore, manager Ole Gunnar Solskjaer should have made substitutions a lot earlier than he did. Mason Greenwood should have been left on. Solskjaer clearly had no faith in either Donny van de Beek or Amad Diallo coming in and making something happen.
United’s best player turned out to be Scott McTominay, hithero regarded as a functional yet honest midfield grafter.
What now for United? They clearly require some high-grade additions and, according to some, there’s a nagging doubt regarding Solskjaer’s ability to develop attacking systems rather than rely on his better players to provide spontaneous match-turning moments.
Will I keep supporting them? Of course. This defeat really, really hurts, but they’ve been my club since May 26, 1983, when I watched them beat Brighton & Hove Albion in the replay of the 1983 FA Cup final.
THURSDAY: MAY 27
A THUMPING headache dominated much of my time awake. Can one suffer from headaches during sleep? I felt tired, too. Not quite tired-of-life, but close. It could be that the grief of last night’s loss for United is only hitting me now.
In the past week I’ve consumed too many drinks with a high caffeine content, not slept enough and had multiple road trips. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I tried my best not to read articles about United’s misfortunes but found the well-written and thought provoking items on the Guardian and The Athletic websites just too good to avoid.
My mum rang and we didn’t talk about the Europa League final. Thankfully. She mentioned a recent diary entry (the day of the opportunistic milk thief, May 18). I wondered what she thought of the incident. “Was it just fantasy?” she asked, curious if the incident actually happened and making a slight reference (or so I thought) to the lyrics of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody.
“I’m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy. Because the Avonmore milk is easy come, easy go, little high, little low,” I replied. Confused, she hung up. I had two more missed calls from places where I don’t think I have friends – Cuba and North Macedonia.
FRIDAY: MAY 28
EDDIE’S rampaging run along a beach in Rosses Point has convinced me that he is possessed. No, this roguish canine isn’t the devil’s puppet, he’s possessed by curiosity. I wish I could look at life the same way.
Last night’s dream had a baked goods theme. I accompanied my mother to a cake shop. We ordered some treats but I left one cake behind because it was too large and too heavy. At the counter we selected an alternative cake but got the lady there to cut it in half. Calories are counted in dreams, too. The Guardian had two online items that caught my eye. Trees can communicate with each other and there are ongoing studies to work out if trees have a higher level of intelligence, a consciousness.
Also on this informative website was a story about competitors dying in the Gansu ultramarathon in
China. I’m sorry, but I don’t get the point of ultramarathons. Try following United, watching the ups and downs of Sligo GAA’s inter-county teams over a quarter of a century or wondering will this be the silverware season for Rovers – that’s my version of an ultramarathon.
Speaking of Rovers, this evening’s road trip brought myself and AF (Alan Finn) into the province of
Ulster for the north-west derby at Ballybofey’s Finn Park. Rovers held on for a 2-1 win. Before the Bit O’Red’s show of resolve, I had to produce steely nerves pre-match. Alan enjoyed a punnet of chips. I declined the offer of a sample as I chomped my way through a fruit salad. Now I know how Jesus was tempted in the desert. Or maybe he was tempted by a dessert in the desert.
SATURDAY: MAY 29
NEWS that UEFA could be about to scrap the away goals rule for club competitions will be music to herself’s ears.
Back in March, when we were watching the first leg of United’s Europa League (round of 16) fixture against AC Milan, the Italian club scored at Old Trafford for an away goal. Herself reckoned the away goals rule is akin to cheating. She’s right – how can a goal scored at one pitch be worth twice as much as a goal scored at another venue? The ball is the same size, as are the goals, but the score itself has a different value. On reflection, what a silly, silly rule.
Sligo hurlers scored 5-23 against Longford, winning in the Markievicz Park sunshine. Gerard O’Kelly-Lynch has become a type of hurling terminator, a relentless scoring machine. With United not in the UEFA Champions League final (they haven’t been finalists since 2011), I couldn’t tell you how the all-English Premier League clash of City and Chelsea turned out. But I do know that City may have to rummage around the back of an enormous, gold-plated sofa for another half a billion of petrodollars to make Pep’s dream come true. Then again, United would have the same kind of cash to spend on players/facilities etc if it weren’t for the Glazers bleeding the club of its resources and its soul. With neither myself nor herself cooking this fine evening, we order another delicious takeaway from Bridgefoot House on O’Connell. Yummy. Yummy. Yummy.
SUNDAY: MAY 30
THE weather was so gloriously blue-skied for our road trip east to Dundalk (Sligo against Louth) that it would have appropriate if we went there in an ice cream van, sprinkling hundreds and thousands on the hot roads as we sped along.
We got lost, inevitably, by relying on Sat Gav (Gavin) and not the Skoda’s Sat Nav. But we left so early that there was ample time to find our bearings by driving through tillage fields and carefully avoiding tractors/angry farmers.
For the sad journey home we didn’t reference the result at all which says a lot about what happened on the pitch. Alan suggested that Newbliss, one of the villages we went through, would have been an apt name for a 1970s progressive rock band. Elsewhere, the Charlie Bit Me video is to remain on YouTube. The 2007 viral video has been described as “an important part of popular culture”. Much like today’s road trip.
MONDAY: MAY 31
MAYBE it is the good weather.
Maybe it is the upbeat government announcements. Maybe it is the various reports of thronged streets and packed seafronts. But I fear we are opening up the country a little too soon. Couldn’t we wait another six weeks? The Covid-19 vaccination programme hasn’t been completed.
But Paddy (the collective term for Irish men and women) is mad for pints. Mad for late nights, early mornings. Hair of the dog, tail of the dog. Covid-19 hasn’t gone away and the daily numbers of positive cases aren’t decreasing. Here’s hoping there won’t be another traumatic lockdown and renewed restrictions in the months to come.
The Rose of Tralee Festival (RoTF) has been cancelled – not for good, unfortunately, but just for 2021 due to the ongoing pandemic. Maybe the teenage me or even 35-year-old me found something appealing about the RoTF but I’ve since come around to the notion that it is a cloying stain, a belittling sexist parody of Eamon De Valera’s “happy maidens” vision.
TUESDAY: JUNE 1
SLIGO County Council’s website have given me the option of paying my traffic fine in Irish (as Gaeilge). Given that my Irish is beyond rusty, I stuck with the option of using euros to square off the fine. Although I’d rather there was the option of not paying the fine at all.
Having never managed to convince my late father to attend The Showgrounds, I’m hoping to get my dear mum to cheer for the Bit O’Red (once supporters are allowed back etc). In a phone call home, I tell her that Rovers, in conjunction with the FAI, are implementing a scheme called ‘Bring Your Auld Mother To The Showgies’ (#byamtts). I happily inform her that she has been registered for this initiative and to get her Rovers scarf ready.