The sport over lords have spoken and so the pawns must obey

WHEN we travel to stadiums across the country, bringing enough sandwiches to feed an army, ensuring every member of the family is colour-coordinated, we do so to watch the players. When we schedule our free time around a football team in England, paying exorbitant sums for the privilege (or sourcing alternate means), we do so because of the players.

These players, whether hurling gods or Premier League hasbeens, represent and counties and teams we pledged allegiance to many moons ago; they will eventually be replaced by other players, as will those who follow, but for now it is all about them. And yet, to those who govern these sports, the players are mere pawns, cheery little avatars to be directed this way and that, their thoughts, their views secondary to the whims of the great overlords.

Having been dragged to a nation with no footballing heritage and a deeply troubling human rights’ record, England captain Harry Kane felt that wearing a One Love armband in support of the LGBTQ+ community would be a subtle way of voicing the collective displeasure at the World Cup being held in Qatar. He was quickly informed that to do so would earn him an immediate yellow card.

Kane did not wear the armband.

On the subject of World Cups; the next one will feature 48 teams, more games, and a longer, more labyrinthian route to the business end of things. Did the players ask for this? Did they plead with FIFA to add to an already demanding schedule? No. But they’re getting it regardless.

But while the elite footballers of this earth will most likely survive an extended World Cup, and an extended Champions League, the women who tog out for their counties in the All-Ireland Camogie Championship will find it much more difficult to stomach the decisions made by those who govern their sport.

It’s been on the agenda for a while now, been something the players have asked for over and over again. It seems like the most simple of requests, something which could be agreed upon in the week leading up to the game, a matter of preference, a matter of personal choice.

Not so. Somehow, despite one survey showing that 82 per cent of players would prefer to wear shorts, a vote to replace the ‘skorts’ currently worn by camogie teams with shorts was defeated at the Camogie Assocation Congress by a margin of 64 per cent to 36 per cent. A second motion, to at least allow shorts to be added as an option, was also defeated: by 55 per cent to 45.

The identity of those doing the voting has not been revealed, only that they were 150 of them and they were ‘delegates’ from counties, provincial councils and international clubs.

The motions were brought forward by the camogie associations in Britain, Meath, and Tipperary, with all 39 clubs in the latter in favour of the change. And yet somehow, those in charge, the decision-makers, saw fit to go against the people who play the sport, whose dignity is compromised by the nature of their attire. One can only assume these voters are, shall we say, traditionalists, that they contend it wouldn’t be very ladylike for women with sticks and helmets to wear shorts when going out to do battle. Perhaps they find the skorts aesthetically pleasing, an item of clothing which adds a little glamour to the occasion, some femininity, some style.

It’s the kind of thinking you’d expect at Wimbledon, a tournament which clings onto the ideals of the early 19th century when the sight of women perspiring was considered ‘improper’.

Surely, we can do better than this? If the players say the skorts are uncomfortable, if they say they’re restrictive, that they feel exposed when wearing them, then it’s the duty of the sport’s governing body to listen. It shouldn’t take a pair of motions, a vote from the delegates, it should be implemented without question. No-one cares what the delegates think, the only important people in any sport are those who provide the entertainment, who commit their lives to excellence on the field of play.

Eventually, like all arcane rules and laws, the skort will be banished to the sidelines and the players will be free to provide even greater entertainment in more comfortable sportswear. But when? While they wait for these delegates to pass the torch to more clued-in club members, camogie players across the country will don the offending items against their will for another season.

Some may not even do that. Self-conscious teenagers, when confronted by the kit laid out before them, may walk away, reasoning that it’s not worth playing the sport they love if they are forced to wear something they’re not comfortable in. And once they go it’s unlikely they’ll ever come back.

There is, however, a solution. While not advocating for a revolution, for the mass burning of skorts at Nowlan Park, what would happen if a camogie team just turned up for a game wearing shorts? Would a flustered, middle-aged man come running across the pitch, a clipboard in his hand, and send the players home? Would the referee book them all, one to fifteen, or worse, call the game off ?

Or would common-sense prevail, would the ball be thrown in and the teams’ garments immediately forgotten about? Sadly, those middle-aged men with clipboards tend to win most of their battles.