Another early start as we travel down to Lux. We've managed to get 24 lads together despite the clash with the European elections, Brussels 20km and the long weekend. The draw was sent out last night and the A team are paired with Amsterdam and Luxembourg B whilst the B's line out against Den Haag and Luxembourg A in their group.
From an A perspective, we have settled on our captain for the year. Clux will lead us, hopefully starting with a change of fortune tomorrow. We'll start the day with the bare minimum 11 players so as to try and make the B team as strong as possible. Defections have left us heavily hit in defence so I'm likely to line out alongside debutant Paul Quinn in the full back line. Gearoid Sayers returns to partner Colin Byrne in the half back line. Enda and Eoghan will start in the middle of the field whilst another debutant, Johnny from Dublin will form a forward line with Olof, Ciaran and the returning Rochey.
The team started to show real progress for the first time last year down in Lux. We lost a very close final by a point. We'll be hoping to get our season going down there this weekend after a shaky start. I think we've realised the key to everything is hard work so we'll try and get that work ethic back tomorrow.
The B's have a big challenge as Benelux is fairly strong this year and they have two of the strongest teams in their group. Ruairi will lead them for the weekend and they'll be looking to be as competitive as possible. Its all about getting a settled team for when they hit Munich at the end of July for the first round of the Shield.
Luxembourg have won this tournament seven years on the trot so they'll take some beating. Den Haag are undefeated this year so the same goes for them. If we need any further motivation it will surely come from the fact that we have to leave Crusher behind us in Brussels.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Temporarily Decommissioned
Crusher. Great nickname. Picture the man. Hulk like physique, a giant would barely fill his shadow. Or not. Our Crusher, Phil Cushen, stands 5"5, maybe 5"6 with a wiry frame. Without deep knowledge or inspection of the man, you might think a gust of wind would whip him away.
He went into a tackle last year, against a man towering at least over a foot above him and came out with the ball, leaving his man in a heap on the ground. The Crusher was born. Being the way he is, he hated the nickname at first and many who hadn't seen him play hurling or football probably thought it was a joke. Rarely has such a nickname stuck in such a genuine way.
As mentioned in my last blog, for once he came out worse in a tackle down in Lux two weeks ago. It was obvious some damage had been done and he was quickly whisked away to hospital. He returned none the wiser and was forced to sit through a couple of scans and an MRI before finding out his faith today.
He has done his cruciate and mediscis (spelling?). The doctor said 6 to 12 months. The man will be gutted. Few could rival his committment to his teams and few could match his impact on the pitch. Whilst we will temporarily lose him from the pitch, if I have my way, he will remain heavily involved.
In two weeks he will have the op and after that the road to recovery starts. The mindset of the injured and that of us looking in from the outside is naturally going to be different. Crusher needs to keep the chin up, have his op and then do everything he can do to get right. It can be an opportunity to get into the gym and strengthen up even more. Hopefully he can stay positive. We'll miss him big time but we will draw on him for our inspiration and motivation.
He went into a tackle last year, against a man towering at least over a foot above him and came out with the ball, leaving his man in a heap on the ground. The Crusher was born. Being the way he is, he hated the nickname at first and many who hadn't seen him play hurling or football probably thought it was a joke. Rarely has such a nickname stuck in such a genuine way.
As mentioned in my last blog, for once he came out worse in a tackle down in Lux two weeks ago. It was obvious some damage had been done and he was quickly whisked away to hospital. He returned none the wiser and was forced to sit through a couple of scans and an MRI before finding out his faith today.
He has done his cruciate and mediscis (spelling?). The doctor said 6 to 12 months. The man will be gutted. Few could rival his committment to his teams and few could match his impact on the pitch. Whilst we will temporarily lose him from the pitch, if I have my way, he will remain heavily involved.
In two weeks he will have the op and after that the road to recovery starts. The mindset of the injured and that of us looking in from the outside is naturally going to be different. Crusher needs to keep the chin up, have his op and then do everything he can do to get right. It can be an opportunity to get into the gym and strengthen up even more. Hopefully he can stay positive. We'll miss him big time but we will draw on him for our inspiration and motivation.
Monday, May 18, 2009
No Glamour, Just Glory
Sport is sensationalised at a sickening rate these days. Moderate achievements of brand name sportsmen are glamorised beyond belief to sell enough papers, advertisements and all the rest. It can be difficult to dredge through the bumper headlines and find true acts of heroism. This weekend Irish sport had two nail biting finales to devour. One took place in Co. Louth where Amateur golfer Shane Lowry won The Irish Open in rain drenched dramatic circumstances. The other took place in the Province of Luxembourg, which is actually in Belgium, and took three periods of extra time to separate Den Haag and Belgium in Round 2 of the European Hurling Championship.
As mentioned in the previous blog, Dominic, Eoin, Michael & Rochey were missing from the squad that travel to Paris. Conchur de Barra, still in cast, was there to train the ladies but added to the absentee list. We suffered another blow on Friday night when Captain Kevin Keary, racing from the European elections campaign train in Cork, missed his flight from Shannon. It’s a great testament to the work done in the last 18 months that we were still able to assemble a squad and travel with some amount of hope.
Arlon. That was the venue for the Luxembourg tournament. Indeed it lies in the Province of Luxembourg but within the boundaries of Belgium. An omen? Ya have to grab everything ya can. I travelled with Crusher, Adrian and Emmett. Whilst Emmett drove and cursed his ingrown toenail, I spun the tunes. We arrived in just under two hours and in time to see the girls’ first game. The lads competition first involved a round robin with games against Den Haag, Luxembourg and Paris with the top two going through to the final and the others contesting 3/4 playoff.
We faced Den Haag first and expected this to be the toughest of games. Disaster struck early, when in typical fashion, Crusher arrived into a flurry of men to steal the ball. Bodies flew everywhere but it was Crusher who lay, in visible pain, clutching his knee on the ground. There was a long stop in play before he was carried from the pitch and off to hospital. Early indications suggest ligament or tendon damage. He will know more today but we wish our diminutive warrior a speedy recovery. We were rattled and the 1-7 to 1-0 scoreline at half-time reflected this. In the second half, Martin adjusted our formation, moving me back to defence, Dec to midfield and captain Aylward to the edge of the square. We fought our way back to 1-7 to 1-4 and pushed for a goal late on but it was not to be as our opponents struck for the insurance point. We had played better in the second half but we needed more punch up front.
The heads were down after the game but all was not lost. It was still in our hands with two victories likely to secure a final place. This had to be the minimum goal for the day. Went faced up hosts Luxembourg next. I'd got a couple of new hurleys lately and was striking the ball well. The goalies had looked vulnerable in the opening games and I asked Martin if we got a free within reasonable distance, should we try and raise the green flag. He gave me the nod and in the opening minutes Hartey earned a free 30 yards out and slightly to the right. A goal early can knock the stuffing out of teams so I went for it and was happy to see it creep in the bottom corner. Soon after, we won a free deep in our own half. I went for the point but it dipped under the crossbar in slipped through the keeper’s hands into the back of the net. Hartey, repositioned in the forward line was wrecking havoc. Pierce and Eoghan held sway at midfield and by half-time we had breathing space.
On the resumption of play, we continued in the same manner. Conor launched a couple of monstrous points from way back and the contest looked like petering out. However, it quickly became very physical as a Lux player clipped the ball away from his marker before receiving the brunt of his pull. It went unpunished but whilst it was probably a free, it certainly wasn't intentional. To worsen the blow, we went up the other end and won a scoreable free. Temperatures rose and play was held up for a few minutes as the player was treated and the rest jostled and argued!!
Revenge was in the air and Declan was on the wrong end of a suspicious pull on a high ball. He left the pitch clutching his arm. We weathered the storm and the final score read something like 3-12 to 1-1 but did not represent the heat of the second half battle. It took more out of us than the scoreline would suggest and we took a welcome break before facing off against Paris in the final group game. Martin rejigged again for this game to try and freshen things up. Muiritis and Yann acquitted themselves for well in this encounter and Adrian was solid in goal. We won the game playing straight forward hurling by keeping the ball moving. Other results meant we had another crack off Den Haag in the final.
You have to play in one of these tournaments to fully appreciate the difficulty they pose. Group games only last 25 minutes but the 11-a-side game is fast and zaps the energy. The stop start nature of the day leads to breaks between games that cause the body to cease. Come the final, you are nearly guaranteed to have lost men along the way and Saturday was no different. Myself and Emmett portrayed all the signs of this as we sat in the boot of his Corolla Verso. We had a few visitors as we passed the nurofen around. Dec sat out the Paris game because of the hand injury but was ready for one last tilt at it. My back problems were building all day and had spread to the hips and hamstrings. Emmett, had his usual catalogue of bruises. The final was to be two 15 minute halves and even with the pains and aches we were ready.
Hurling is as unique a legal sport as you will find. Men go into battle equipped with their hurleys and with only a helmut for protection. The acts of bravery occur with such regularity that they are taken for granted. Every hurler needs a warrior streak to run through them if they are to be successful, no matter what the level. Crusher has this in abundance and he was in my mind before the game. The line about 'We'll win this for person X' is belted out far too much and is a line without substance in my opinion. I did feel Crusher could be our source of our inspiration so I reminded the lads of how the man plays the game and asked them to bring his heart out onto the pitch with them.
Martin, the ultimate warrior, who has stood the test of time better than most, had found the right balance to the team as the day went on. For the final he manned the square, fronted up Conor and Willie. Myself and Dec filled the half back slots whilst it was a Cork/Kilkenny combo in the middle of the field with Eoghan and Pierce. Jarrett and Emmett had the half forward slots with Aidan and Adrian close to goal.
From the first whistle, it was obvious we were in for a monumental contest and it was to be clear the game was to be defined by three key battles. Despite starting in the half back line I spent most of the contest planted at the edge of our square on man marking duty. Conor A had a similar assignment which dragged him to the half back line. Around the middle of the field, our ferocious competitor Eoghan Kelly would need to neutralise the marauding play of Simpson.
The specific events are difficult to recall. An early goal and point from them was pecked back when Adrian goaled. We took advantage and led by a point at the interval. Maybe 1-2 to 1-1. We extended the lead to 1-6 to 1-3 with Emmett and Pierce to the fore, before Den Haag rallied with a succession of points. Such was the flurry of second half activity, it was difficult to keep track of the score. Tension was at breaking point in the closing stages with bodies flying into very challenge. It was taking its toll on all as cramp gripped many bodies, even Den Haag keeper!! When referee Tony Bass blew a halt to proceedings, there was a pause. The minds of the men were so weary and the closing stages so frantic, all had lost track of the score. A draw. It was a bitter pill, especially as I had had a clear score waved wide at the end of the first half, with the ref perfectly in line with the flight of the ball.
Extra-time. Two periods of 5 minutes. Both teams regrouped for water and to stretch aching limbs. The first half was deadlocked when my man raced through. As he headed for goal, Conor and Dec pursued from behind. I came from the side, waiting for him to throw the ball up so I could flick it away. As soon as he did, I made sure of my task and knowing the chance was lost, he went to ground. I was livid. For me there was no contact from any of us and we had hunted him down fairly. The ref disagreed and awarded a penalty. Myself, Conor and Martin manned the line. I think you have to be half mad to stand in front of a penalty. The two lads next to me can certainly tick that box and such was my fury at the decision, I shared the trait for that moment at least. The penalty taker, who had been their key man all day, must have seen the madness in our eyes as he made minimal contact with the strike and was forced to hit a ground shot which we saved and cleared. Conor later told me there was no way that penalty was going to go in and he was willing to sacrifice the crown jewels to keep it out.
Second half of extra-time. We probably had the slight edge in the three battles mentioned earlier. It was too close to call though. With the scores still deadlocked I won a ball on the left wing. There were the bones of 80 yards between me and he goal but there was so much traffic in front of me that it was hard to find a man so I went for it. I struck it well and the accuracy was good. There is a point in the flight of the ball when your attention switches to the opposing goalie and the forwards. If the forwards and defenders stop, the chances are you have the distance. If the goalie stays on his line and rests his hurley on the crossbar you can be sure it’s good. It was.
With maybe a minute or two remaining and given the low scoring nature of the final, there was a fair chance it would be the winner. How naive. Moments later a puck out came through to me and my man. It was rolling nicely and he got it into the hand fast and put the head down for goal. I blocked his path with my hurley but in doing so pushed him back a yard, enough to allow him shoot for a point and evade my block. That was one of the final acts of extra time. What next? Another period of five minutes. We were calm, our fitness was showing but with only five minutes to play, the slightest of slips could cost you.
Even when lads, on both sides, could slip their men, the accuracy was fading as emery levels were well below the waterline. In the dying stages, Den Haag hit the post from a narrow ankle for a point. We cleared our lines but again, moments later, they hit it again. This time it spilled out perfectly in front of the goal. Quick reactions meant our defence grabbed control of the ball and launched a clearance in the direction of Jarrett. With parents visiting for the weekend, he provided the moment that would finally separate two evenly match teams as his effort crept over the bar and inside the post! It seemed like all the tension which had proceeded that moment, accumulated and crammed itself into the remaining forty seconds. When the ref blew the final whistle we were nearly too shattered to celebrate. After such a battle you must also show respect to your opponents. We went toe to toe through normal time and three periods of extra-time and to lose must have been soul destroying.
Surveying the wreckage after such a day would make the mind boggle. Bloodied bodies lay scattered on the surface with sore and swollen limbs all round. Such a tight game brings out the raw ingredients which make hurling great. The mindless commitment to win the ball, the bravery to block opposing players down, the relentless chasing and harassment of lost causes. It doesn't matter what standard you play at, those ingredients will always come to the fore when you have two passionate and evenly matched teams squaring up. There was a moment in the second half of normal time when Simpson picked up the ball twenty yards out and wound up. Its hard to explain to people what goes through your head but I literally ran straight at him, not really caring what I blocked him with as long as I blocked him. In another instant, Emmett was fighting for possession over on the wing. For a moment it seemed his body stopped functioning in line with his thoughts and he couldn't get his hurley in the position to whip so he just put his foot in the mixer, gritted his teeth and bore the pain.
We were buzzing on the way back. We had a CD with Irish music blaring and we were doing our best to get the words wrong. At one point Adrian, who is Canadian questioned why when we were on such a high, we were listening to such depressing music. An ironic point that may warrant another blog to delve into the depths of the Irish psyche. Conor told me afterwards that their journey home mirrored ours as they stretched their lungs too. We are 2/2 now in our quest to become European champions. Next, we have our home tournament in Brussels. If we can inflict defeat to our opponents on home soil it may well knock the resilience from their challenge. We will most likely have to do it without Conchur or Crusher. The rest will return. We won against the odds at the weekend but had to go to the bottom of the pit to do so. The returning lads will need to bring that quality to ensure we don't lose our edge.
As mentioned in the previous blog, Dominic, Eoin, Michael & Rochey were missing from the squad that travel to Paris. Conchur de Barra, still in cast, was there to train the ladies but added to the absentee list. We suffered another blow on Friday night when Captain Kevin Keary, racing from the European elections campaign train in Cork, missed his flight from Shannon. It’s a great testament to the work done in the last 18 months that we were still able to assemble a squad and travel with some amount of hope.
Arlon. That was the venue for the Luxembourg tournament. Indeed it lies in the Province of Luxembourg but within the boundaries of Belgium. An omen? Ya have to grab everything ya can. I travelled with Crusher, Adrian and Emmett. Whilst Emmett drove and cursed his ingrown toenail, I spun the tunes. We arrived in just under two hours and in time to see the girls’ first game. The lads competition first involved a round robin with games against Den Haag, Luxembourg and Paris with the top two going through to the final and the others contesting 3/4 playoff.
We faced Den Haag first and expected this to be the toughest of games. Disaster struck early, when in typical fashion, Crusher arrived into a flurry of men to steal the ball. Bodies flew everywhere but it was Crusher who lay, in visible pain, clutching his knee on the ground. There was a long stop in play before he was carried from the pitch and off to hospital. Early indications suggest ligament or tendon damage. He will know more today but we wish our diminutive warrior a speedy recovery. We were rattled and the 1-7 to 1-0 scoreline at half-time reflected this. In the second half, Martin adjusted our formation, moving me back to defence, Dec to midfield and captain Aylward to the edge of the square. We fought our way back to 1-7 to 1-4 and pushed for a goal late on but it was not to be as our opponents struck for the insurance point. We had played better in the second half but we needed more punch up front.
The heads were down after the game but all was not lost. It was still in our hands with two victories likely to secure a final place. This had to be the minimum goal for the day. Went faced up hosts Luxembourg next. I'd got a couple of new hurleys lately and was striking the ball well. The goalies had looked vulnerable in the opening games and I asked Martin if we got a free within reasonable distance, should we try and raise the green flag. He gave me the nod and in the opening minutes Hartey earned a free 30 yards out and slightly to the right. A goal early can knock the stuffing out of teams so I went for it and was happy to see it creep in the bottom corner. Soon after, we won a free deep in our own half. I went for the point but it dipped under the crossbar in slipped through the keeper’s hands into the back of the net. Hartey, repositioned in the forward line was wrecking havoc. Pierce and Eoghan held sway at midfield and by half-time we had breathing space.
On the resumption of play, we continued in the same manner. Conor launched a couple of monstrous points from way back and the contest looked like petering out. However, it quickly became very physical as a Lux player clipped the ball away from his marker before receiving the brunt of his pull. It went unpunished but whilst it was probably a free, it certainly wasn't intentional. To worsen the blow, we went up the other end and won a scoreable free. Temperatures rose and play was held up for a few minutes as the player was treated and the rest jostled and argued!!
Revenge was in the air and Declan was on the wrong end of a suspicious pull on a high ball. He left the pitch clutching his arm. We weathered the storm and the final score read something like 3-12 to 1-1 but did not represent the heat of the second half battle. It took more out of us than the scoreline would suggest and we took a welcome break before facing off against Paris in the final group game. Martin rejigged again for this game to try and freshen things up. Muiritis and Yann acquitted themselves for well in this encounter and Adrian was solid in goal. We won the game playing straight forward hurling by keeping the ball moving. Other results meant we had another crack off Den Haag in the final.
You have to play in one of these tournaments to fully appreciate the difficulty they pose. Group games only last 25 minutes but the 11-a-side game is fast and zaps the energy. The stop start nature of the day leads to breaks between games that cause the body to cease. Come the final, you are nearly guaranteed to have lost men along the way and Saturday was no different. Myself and Emmett portrayed all the signs of this as we sat in the boot of his Corolla Verso. We had a few visitors as we passed the nurofen around. Dec sat out the Paris game because of the hand injury but was ready for one last tilt at it. My back problems were building all day and had spread to the hips and hamstrings. Emmett, had his usual catalogue of bruises. The final was to be two 15 minute halves and even with the pains and aches we were ready.
Hurling is as unique a legal sport as you will find. Men go into battle equipped with their hurleys and with only a helmut for protection. The acts of bravery occur with such regularity that they are taken for granted. Every hurler needs a warrior streak to run through them if they are to be successful, no matter what the level. Crusher has this in abundance and he was in my mind before the game. The line about 'We'll win this for person X' is belted out far too much and is a line without substance in my opinion. I did feel Crusher could be our source of our inspiration so I reminded the lads of how the man plays the game and asked them to bring his heart out onto the pitch with them.
Martin, the ultimate warrior, who has stood the test of time better than most, had found the right balance to the team as the day went on. For the final he manned the square, fronted up Conor and Willie. Myself and Dec filled the half back slots whilst it was a Cork/Kilkenny combo in the middle of the field with Eoghan and Pierce. Jarrett and Emmett had the half forward slots with Aidan and Adrian close to goal.
From the first whistle, it was obvious we were in for a monumental contest and it was to be clear the game was to be defined by three key battles. Despite starting in the half back line I spent most of the contest planted at the edge of our square on man marking duty. Conor A had a similar assignment which dragged him to the half back line. Around the middle of the field, our ferocious competitor Eoghan Kelly would need to neutralise the marauding play of Simpson.
The specific events are difficult to recall. An early goal and point from them was pecked back when Adrian goaled. We took advantage and led by a point at the interval. Maybe 1-2 to 1-1. We extended the lead to 1-6 to 1-3 with Emmett and Pierce to the fore, before Den Haag rallied with a succession of points. Such was the flurry of second half activity, it was difficult to keep track of the score. Tension was at breaking point in the closing stages with bodies flying into very challenge. It was taking its toll on all as cramp gripped many bodies, even Den Haag keeper!! When referee Tony Bass blew a halt to proceedings, there was a pause. The minds of the men were so weary and the closing stages so frantic, all had lost track of the score. A draw. It was a bitter pill, especially as I had had a clear score waved wide at the end of the first half, with the ref perfectly in line with the flight of the ball.
Extra-time. Two periods of 5 minutes. Both teams regrouped for water and to stretch aching limbs. The first half was deadlocked when my man raced through. As he headed for goal, Conor and Dec pursued from behind. I came from the side, waiting for him to throw the ball up so I could flick it away. As soon as he did, I made sure of my task and knowing the chance was lost, he went to ground. I was livid. For me there was no contact from any of us and we had hunted him down fairly. The ref disagreed and awarded a penalty. Myself, Conor and Martin manned the line. I think you have to be half mad to stand in front of a penalty. The two lads next to me can certainly tick that box and such was my fury at the decision, I shared the trait for that moment at least. The penalty taker, who had been their key man all day, must have seen the madness in our eyes as he made minimal contact with the strike and was forced to hit a ground shot which we saved and cleared. Conor later told me there was no way that penalty was going to go in and he was willing to sacrifice the crown jewels to keep it out.
Second half of extra-time. We probably had the slight edge in the three battles mentioned earlier. It was too close to call though. With the scores still deadlocked I won a ball on the left wing. There were the bones of 80 yards between me and he goal but there was so much traffic in front of me that it was hard to find a man so I went for it. I struck it well and the accuracy was good. There is a point in the flight of the ball when your attention switches to the opposing goalie and the forwards. If the forwards and defenders stop, the chances are you have the distance. If the goalie stays on his line and rests his hurley on the crossbar you can be sure it’s good. It was.
With maybe a minute or two remaining and given the low scoring nature of the final, there was a fair chance it would be the winner. How naive. Moments later a puck out came through to me and my man. It was rolling nicely and he got it into the hand fast and put the head down for goal. I blocked his path with my hurley but in doing so pushed him back a yard, enough to allow him shoot for a point and evade my block. That was one of the final acts of extra time. What next? Another period of five minutes. We were calm, our fitness was showing but with only five minutes to play, the slightest of slips could cost you.
Even when lads, on both sides, could slip their men, the accuracy was fading as emery levels were well below the waterline. In the dying stages, Den Haag hit the post from a narrow ankle for a point. We cleared our lines but again, moments later, they hit it again. This time it spilled out perfectly in front of the goal. Quick reactions meant our defence grabbed control of the ball and launched a clearance in the direction of Jarrett. With parents visiting for the weekend, he provided the moment that would finally separate two evenly match teams as his effort crept over the bar and inside the post! It seemed like all the tension which had proceeded that moment, accumulated and crammed itself into the remaining forty seconds. When the ref blew the final whistle we were nearly too shattered to celebrate. After such a battle you must also show respect to your opponents. We went toe to toe through normal time and three periods of extra-time and to lose must have been soul destroying.
Surveying the wreckage after such a day would make the mind boggle. Bloodied bodies lay scattered on the surface with sore and swollen limbs all round. Such a tight game brings out the raw ingredients which make hurling great. The mindless commitment to win the ball, the bravery to block opposing players down, the relentless chasing and harassment of lost causes. It doesn't matter what standard you play at, those ingredients will always come to the fore when you have two passionate and evenly matched teams squaring up. There was a moment in the second half of normal time when Simpson picked up the ball twenty yards out and wound up. Its hard to explain to people what goes through your head but I literally ran straight at him, not really caring what I blocked him with as long as I blocked him. In another instant, Emmett was fighting for possession over on the wing. For a moment it seemed his body stopped functioning in line with his thoughts and he couldn't get his hurley in the position to whip so he just put his foot in the mixer, gritted his teeth and bore the pain.
We were buzzing on the way back. We had a CD with Irish music blaring and we were doing our best to get the words wrong. At one point Adrian, who is Canadian questioned why when we were on such a high, we were listening to such depressing music. An ironic point that may warrant another blog to delve into the depths of the Irish psyche. Conor told me afterwards that their journey home mirrored ours as they stretched their lungs too. We are 2/2 now in our quest to become European champions. Next, we have our home tournament in Brussels. If we can inflict defeat to our opponents on home soil it may well knock the resilience from their challenge. We will most likely have to do it without Conchur or Crusher. The rest will return. We won against the odds at the weekend but had to go to the bottom of the pit to do so. The returning lads will need to bring that quality to ensure we don't lose our edge.
Friday, May 15, 2009
European Hurling Championship - Luxembourg - Round 2
Tomorrow we travel 200km south to Luxembourg for Round 2 of the European Hurling Championship. Whilst the hosts soccer team may be minnows in world football, their Hurling team are the current European Hurling champions. They won out last year with a very strong side but as with every team in Europe, the strength of a panel can change month to month. As they didn’t travel to Paris it’s hard to say where they are at. One thing is for sure though, they are a proud club and will be hell bent on starting their defence on a winning note.
Den Haag will travel much stronger than they did to Paris and the fourth team will be a Paris/Zurich selection. Zurich won 3-in-a-row from 2004-2007 but the departure of some key players has weakened them. To their credit they have put massive effort in to developing their game locally and have produced many home grown players. Combining the best of Paris and the best of Zurich will ensure a strong side lines out.
As for ourselves, we travel minus our three main scoring threats from the last day. Eoin is on election duty at home, Hough is somewhere between Nashville and Vegas and Rochey has gone home to his girlfriend. On top of that our marauding filthy midfielder Dominic is also absent. Our defence remains in place which is good. Willie, Aidan, Crusher and Kevin. Coming back into the fray will be Eoghan Kelly who should provide some steel where ever he lands. I’ll also be released from goalkeeping duties but may be a victim of the settled defence and be placed in the forward line. I prefer to be facing the ball but one must do what one must do. Myself and Emmett will need to lead the attack by putting scores on the board. Our normal roles would be that of harriers so tomorrow will test us.
Training this week was good, especially Monday night. There has been heavy rain the last few days in Benelux so we expect the conditions to be tough. I expect the teams to be evenly matched, each with a sprinkling of excellent hurlers. A win for us would have us half way to our quota of the four wins necessary to claim the championship. It won’t come easy though but if we bring the work rate that has been demonstrated at both hurling and football training this week then we will be in with a shout.
Den Haag will travel much stronger than they did to Paris and the fourth team will be a Paris/Zurich selection. Zurich won 3-in-a-row from 2004-2007 but the departure of some key players has weakened them. To their credit they have put massive effort in to developing their game locally and have produced many home grown players. Combining the best of Paris and the best of Zurich will ensure a strong side lines out.
As for ourselves, we travel minus our three main scoring threats from the last day. Eoin is on election duty at home, Hough is somewhere between Nashville and Vegas and Rochey has gone home to his girlfriend. On top of that our marauding filthy midfielder Dominic is also absent. Our defence remains in place which is good. Willie, Aidan, Crusher and Kevin. Coming back into the fray will be Eoghan Kelly who should provide some steel where ever he lands. I’ll also be released from goalkeeping duties but may be a victim of the settled defence and be placed in the forward line. I prefer to be facing the ball but one must do what one must do. Myself and Emmett will need to lead the attack by putting scores on the board. Our normal roles would be that of harriers so tomorrow will test us.
Training this week was good, especially Monday night. There has been heavy rain the last few days in Benelux so we expect the conditions to be tough. I expect the teams to be evenly matched, each with a sprinkling of excellent hurlers. A win for us would have us half way to our quota of the four wins necessary to claim the championship. It won’t come easy though but if we bring the work rate that has been demonstrated at both hurling and football training this week then we will be in with a shout.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Drowned Rats
I took my head up from the computer at around 15h and the heavens were spilling everything it had down on top of Brussels. Of course rain is never a reason to call off training but the danger is that when it falls on hard ground, it can just sit on top making things very dangerous. Anyway, Martin was going to be first out with the Hurlers at 7, with the Footballers out at 8. That gave me a bit of time to assess the situation.
Conditions were unreal. Traffic was at a complete gridlock and there were flash floods everywhere. The thunder crackled overhead and the lightning was prodding the city for fun. I was fairly unconcerned until Ciaran started telling me that it can strike groups of people huddled together. I argued that it would get the hurlers first as they had more metal attached to their playing gear! Anyway, on we went.
My back is flaring up (I know, always moaning about something) so I sat out hurling training. I went down equiped with the umbrella but such was the power of the rain, I returned to the car to take shelter until football started. As expected, the phone was lively. The lads have changed their approach though, knowing i would get cranky if they rang or texted to ask if training was cancelled. Instead, they adjusted and said things like 'I assume training is still on' or 'I'm in traffic, I might be a few minutes late'. Of course what they were really fishing for was whether training was cancelled but they are getting cuter in fairness!
Johnny and Alec were hoofing ball up and down the pitch when I re-entered the pitch. I met Olof on his way out and he was on the way home. Such was the power of the rain, I didn't catch what he said! There were 4 lads just before 8 o'clock but then they started appearing out of cars, from under bushes and i'm sure a few hitched a ride on the back of some of the giant rain drops.
We had a good lively session, utilising whatever bit of grass wasn't totally underwater. A bit of tackling, kicking, sprinting and blocking down preceeded two games which were played aggressively and at a good tempo. After about and hour an a quarter we called a halt to proceedings.
The great thing about our pitch is that its possibly the most centrally located pitch you could find in any city. However, there are absolutely no changing facilities! No-one complains though and tonight everyone got into cars or walked to metros totally drowned. The locals never know what to make of it!
We welcomed back Marc, Alec and Pat tonight. All have played with us before so it will be good to have them on board for the summer. I hope we see more of Pat this year as he's a good man to have around the place. Numbers are good enough that we can have a meanful session on Saturday despite the hurlers being away and Conan will lead the troops in my absence. We are making good progress thanks to the lads attitude so hopefully we can keep the momentum in the coming weeks.
Conditions were unreal. Traffic was at a complete gridlock and there were flash floods everywhere. The thunder crackled overhead and the lightning was prodding the city for fun. I was fairly unconcerned until Ciaran started telling me that it can strike groups of people huddled together. I argued that it would get the hurlers first as they had more metal attached to their playing gear! Anyway, on we went.
My back is flaring up (I know, always moaning about something) so I sat out hurling training. I went down equiped with the umbrella but such was the power of the rain, I returned to the car to take shelter until football started. As expected, the phone was lively. The lads have changed their approach though, knowing i would get cranky if they rang or texted to ask if training was cancelled. Instead, they adjusted and said things like 'I assume training is still on' or 'I'm in traffic, I might be a few minutes late'. Of course what they were really fishing for was whether training was cancelled but they are getting cuter in fairness!
Johnny and Alec were hoofing ball up and down the pitch when I re-entered the pitch. I met Olof on his way out and he was on the way home. Such was the power of the rain, I didn't catch what he said! There were 4 lads just before 8 o'clock but then they started appearing out of cars, from under bushes and i'm sure a few hitched a ride on the back of some of the giant rain drops.
We had a good lively session, utilising whatever bit of grass wasn't totally underwater. A bit of tackling, kicking, sprinting and blocking down preceeded two games which were played aggressively and at a good tempo. After about and hour an a quarter we called a halt to proceedings.
The great thing about our pitch is that its possibly the most centrally located pitch you could find in any city. However, there are absolutely no changing facilities! No-one complains though and tonight everyone got into cars or walked to metros totally drowned. The locals never know what to make of it!
We welcomed back Marc, Alec and Pat tonight. All have played with us before so it will be good to have them on board for the summer. I hope we see more of Pat this year as he's a good man to have around the place. Numbers are good enough that we can have a meanful session on Saturday despite the hurlers being away and Conan will lead the troops in my absence. We are making good progress thanks to the lads attitude so hopefully we can keep the momentum in the coming weeks.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Changing Takt
The idea at the beginning of the year was to focus on short snappy stuff, with ball in hand as much as possible. You can work lads hard this way but they will never fall to their knees the way they would after a good hole opener. We wrote off Amsterdam saying things would get better but after our semi-final capitulation in Den Haag, it was time for an urgent review.
We were hunted down and slayed ungraciously. Rather than meet the challenge head on, we huddled into a ball and let them attack us. When we returned to training the following Thursday I was clear in my mind on what needed to be done. When I told the lads the focus at training was going to change a little, the body language was good. What followed was close to maximum effort through a series of long runs. A good reaction and a good start.
We upped the ante again tonight. The lads will have been too tired to count but there were 50 runs, varying in distance from 10 metres to 100 metres and broken up by ball drills. There were only a couple of isolated examples of lads heaped over roaring into a bush, but even they powered over the finish line.
I know I can be a whining auld bollicks when I'm training a team but there was little to bemoan tonight. You couldn't fault anyone's effort and its a good reflection on the bunch of lads that we have. They went about their business quietly and with purpose. Of course, we can't flog them every night but its important there is enough pain stored in the memory bank, so that we can call upon it when the going gets tough.
Last year, when we were on our knees, I talked alot about going to the well. This year, maybe we forgot where the well was. Action taken...the water mark is rising!
We were hunted down and slayed ungraciously. Rather than meet the challenge head on, we huddled into a ball and let them attack us. When we returned to training the following Thursday I was clear in my mind on what needed to be done. When I told the lads the focus at training was going to change a little, the body language was good. What followed was close to maximum effort through a series of long runs. A good reaction and a good start.
We upped the ante again tonight. The lads will have been too tired to count but there were 50 runs, varying in distance from 10 metres to 100 metres and broken up by ball drills. There were only a couple of isolated examples of lads heaped over roaring into a bush, but even they powered over the finish line.
I know I can be a whining auld bollicks when I'm training a team but there was little to bemoan tonight. You couldn't fault anyone's effort and its a good reflection on the bunch of lads that we have. They went about their business quietly and with purpose. Of course, we can't flog them every night but its important there is enough pain stored in the memory bank, so that we can call upon it when the going gets tough.
Last year, when we were on our knees, I talked alot about going to the well. This year, maybe we forgot where the well was. Action taken...the water mark is rising!
Sunday, May 10, 2009
The Pipeband & The Parade
I saw a lone piper belting out a few tunes in the park last week and as always, it reminded me of big G.A.A. days. Before big inter county games, the pipeband ignites the crowd as they lead the two lines of opposing teams around the hallowed turf of Semple Stadium, Croke Park and many other stadiums. At club level, you know if you find yourself marching to the piper's tune that you are one stop away for a major accomplishment.
The colour in Thurles on Munster Final day is something to be experienced. The distinct colours of Munsters counties, whoever they may be on that given day, simmer in their seats. Then the drum rolls and the men start the procession around each corner of the pitch. The simmering colours soon spark to life as each section responds passionately as the teams march past. Watching each part of the stadium rise to applaud its heroes is some sight and one I think is fairly unique to the G.A.A.
My memories of 1989 (i'm pretty sure that was the year) are scarce. Kinsale were in the South East Junior Hurling final and my Uncle John was captain. I was kitted out in the blue jersey and decorated with my headband and all the other accessories required by a mascot. I thought it was the biggest sporting occasion there could be. My club, marching behind the band that I had previously only seen the likes of Jimmy Barry, Teddy Mac, Larry Tompkins & Co march behind. I dreamed of taking my place in the future, walking to the beat.
It took 10 years before that little dream would come through as we played Tracton in the '99 football final. The parade, as its called, gets alot of attention in the build up to the game. Mentors worry about how it will throw lads' concentration off centre. Players deliberate how to handle it. Should they keep the head down or should they really soak it up by surveying all around them?It sounds stupid but that's what lads think about.
For a young fella it can indeed throw you off. I kept the head down that day, conscious of doing anything that may make me waiver. It does different things to different lads but when put in the same position again I decided to keep the head up and soak it up. You work hard, right back since the dark nights in January, so you should enjoy the occasion. If you play shit you can be sure that someone will pick ya up on it after but as time goes on you realise that it doesn't really matter as long as you are comfortable with your approach.
Its great to see all the familiar faces in the crowd. The clarity of their words creep through the noise and it all reinforces the importance of the occassion to those even beyond the team. Of course, its natural that you will spare a look for the opposition. The nature of the line-up of the parade however - captain leading his troops who follow by number - means the mental battle with your marker will have to wait.
As the lines break-off the yelps lift the bank once more and the players take off to stretch the legs for a last time. Each team will treat the national anthem in their own way. Some will stand in position, others in their respective line of the pitch and some teams will all huddle together. Its the time to really get your focus and you suck in the deep breaths, trawling through your instructions in your mind and repeating any personal mantras you may have.
A sharp blow of the whistle and the ball is lofted high above your midfielders and into the heat of battle, commencing the real business of the day. I always associate the pipeband with big G.A.A. days. Its a great tradition and I hope its retained (and that I experience the pleasure of it again!) on our big days.
The colour in Thurles on Munster Final day is something to be experienced. The distinct colours of Munsters counties, whoever they may be on that given day, simmer in their seats. Then the drum rolls and the men start the procession around each corner of the pitch. The simmering colours soon spark to life as each section responds passionately as the teams march past. Watching each part of the stadium rise to applaud its heroes is some sight and one I think is fairly unique to the G.A.A.
My memories of 1989 (i'm pretty sure that was the year) are scarce. Kinsale were in the South East Junior Hurling final and my Uncle John was captain. I was kitted out in the blue jersey and decorated with my headband and all the other accessories required by a mascot. I thought it was the biggest sporting occasion there could be. My club, marching behind the band that I had previously only seen the likes of Jimmy Barry, Teddy Mac, Larry Tompkins & Co march behind. I dreamed of taking my place in the future, walking to the beat.
It took 10 years before that little dream would come through as we played Tracton in the '99 football final. The parade, as its called, gets alot of attention in the build up to the game. Mentors worry about how it will throw lads' concentration off centre. Players deliberate how to handle it. Should they keep the head down or should they really soak it up by surveying all around them?It sounds stupid but that's what lads think about.
For a young fella it can indeed throw you off. I kept the head down that day, conscious of doing anything that may make me waiver. It does different things to different lads but when put in the same position again I decided to keep the head up and soak it up. You work hard, right back since the dark nights in January, so you should enjoy the occasion. If you play shit you can be sure that someone will pick ya up on it after but as time goes on you realise that it doesn't really matter as long as you are comfortable with your approach.
Its great to see all the familiar faces in the crowd. The clarity of their words creep through the noise and it all reinforces the importance of the occassion to those even beyond the team. Of course, its natural that you will spare a look for the opposition. The nature of the line-up of the parade however - captain leading his troops who follow by number - means the mental battle with your marker will have to wait.
As the lines break-off the yelps lift the bank once more and the players take off to stretch the legs for a last time. Each team will treat the national anthem in their own way. Some will stand in position, others in their respective line of the pitch and some teams will all huddle together. Its the time to really get your focus and you suck in the deep breaths, trawling through your instructions in your mind and repeating any personal mantras you may have.
A sharp blow of the whistle and the ball is lofted high above your midfielders and into the heat of battle, commencing the real business of the day. I always associate the pipeband with big G.A.A. days. Its a great tradition and I hope its retained (and that I experience the pleasure of it again!) on our big days.
The Danger of Hype and Naivity
Last weekend, Munster & Lions (for now anyway) 'hero' Alan Quinlan disgraced himself by getting caught in full view of the Sky cameras, appearing to try to gouge his former Ireland teammate Leo Cullen. Rugby being rugby, maybe the only 'disgrace' was in getting caught. It's Quinlan's ability to make opponents rage and lose concentration that endeared him to the Lions management but such antics are rarely seen by the jolly fans as they happen under the cover of hefty teammates and opponents. I still await the public condemnation that so often follows when one of our G.A.A. players is deemed to have committed an act of violence.
Following Munster's defeat, I listened to many 'gutted' people commiserate with eachother as if life as we know it had ended. I look on in disbelief at people who would barely know the difference between the touchline and the tryline. Mick Galway? The Claw? I doubt these 'fans' would have a clue who these characters are, highlighting the fickle and recent nature of their allegiance to the mighty men of Munster. My mind baffles at their love and loyalty for, what former Limerick Hurling boss Tom Ryan, correctly described this week as 'an artificially created super club'. Of course this comes about through the sell your soul world of professional rugby where the game can sell all but its underpants to Sky Sports who in turn will 'glorify' all that they possibly can.
The third thing that caught my attention this week was the 'penalty' shoot-out in the other European Cup semi. Here we saw professional athletes, unable in some cases, to even raise the ball from the tee, not alone tap it over from a mere 22m in front of the posts. It's probably fair enough though as the ball is the concern of only a limited number of rugby players. Most spend the game huffing and puffing at the pit of rucks and mauls. Wingers can regularily be seen shaking out their arms to try and get some blood circulating. I'd speculate that many professional rugby players haven't touched the ball in months. As you go lower down the ranks, i'd hasten a guess that some may have never touched the ball. Indeed, on occassion there may be a collision between man and ball but they rather concede the knock on than take the responsibility of carrier.
I mused over these and other thoughts yesterday afternoon. I was down at hurling training and we were doing some long pucking. None of us have decorated hurling careers in our wake but I was watching the regularity with which some could put the ball in a lads hand from 60 yards. It could be done with strikes from different angles and from different centres of gravity. On occassion you could see men double on a high ball out of the sky, striking it gently up in the air so it could be easily caught. Other balls would be deadened on the hurley, lofted high and launched back to its source.
Such skills can only be developed by men who have played the game since a small age. You don't see a 17 year old pick up a hurley for the first time and be able to garner enough skill in the years that follow to even find a place on the most average of teams. Contrast this with the regular stories of rugby lads taking up the game in their late teens and earning professional contracts withing a few years. I may be wrong but I remember another recent example of an Ulster lad who was in his twenties when he first crashed into a ball, and has even managed an international call up!!
What is my point? I just can't understand the basis for the hype which rugby has generated through having two decents teams in the whole country. One possible reason is the teams have been competitive on the international stage, something Ireland has a shortage of. But we need to put this into context. The French and maybe even the English teams often treat the European Cup as an afterthought. Their domestic leagues are packed with consistently competitive encounters, unlike the Apple Cider League. Ireland won a Grand Slam this year against a bunch of experimental teams contesting a Championship which represents the Northern Hemisphere's finest, but only produces as many competitive teams as the Munster Hurling Championship.
Yet, people are naive and they can be overcome by hype. Sky Sports have made the game. Its a fantastic television sport, lacking in fast play, allowing the camera follow the action. The lengthy time the ball spends stuck in a heap allows the commentator educate the ignorant audience. The 80 minute games allow for a glorious 30 second action packed musical summary to whet the appetite for the next day.
Contrast this to another sport which is rich in skill and hard hits, played at break-neck speed, but a television flop. It's Ice Hockey of course. The grace with which these men can move across the ice, their control at top speed and their ability to withstand physical threats from all angles, cannot be captured by even the highest definition of cameras and so are not watchable television sports.
Hurling suffers from a similiar problem. Its a game that cannot be appreciated on RTE or TV3. Rather than seek the support of Sky's wizards, the G.A.A has not sold out, thus ensuring the Irish public can freely watch the great game from their living rooms, rather than forcing its fans to dig deep for a Sky subscription or encouraging them down to the boozer.
However, the ease at which the public's hearts can be swayed, means the G.A.A. needs to act. We cannot be complacent. Tom Ryan's comment that 'this bandwagon will pass' is typical of a large section of the G.A.A. who stand with chests out and heads held high proclaiming about how the Association has looked down far bigger barrels without a hint of a flinch.
The tools of influence are now greater then ever however. The G.A.A. needs to face up. We have the greatest field sport in the world and what makes it great is the abundance of complex skills. This strength can be its biggest weakness as it makes the mastery of the art of hurling far more difficult for mere mortals to grasp. The campaign to win back the hearts and minds of kids needs to start now. Those lost to the bandwagons can be cut lose, but fellas like my three year old nephew (who is inexplicably sporting a #10 Munster jersey on a regular basis) need to be pointed in the right direction. Our clubs stand for far more than fancy copywriter phrases like 'Stand Up and Fight'. They stand for community. These rugby fans may shed a drunken tear when the men in red taste defeat but have they ever experienced being in a car with a lad crying uncontrollably from Croke Park to Cork after losing an All-Ireland? Have they been in the car as it pulled out from Caherlag filled with tears after their club has been defeated?
Rugby is merely Sport. G.A.A. is life and death. Its time to up the ante.
Following Munster's defeat, I listened to many 'gutted' people commiserate with eachother as if life as we know it had ended. I look on in disbelief at people who would barely know the difference between the touchline and the tryline. Mick Galway? The Claw? I doubt these 'fans' would have a clue who these characters are, highlighting the fickle and recent nature of their allegiance to the mighty men of Munster. My mind baffles at their love and loyalty for, what former Limerick Hurling boss Tom Ryan, correctly described this week as 'an artificially created super club'. Of course this comes about through the sell your soul world of professional rugby where the game can sell all but its underpants to Sky Sports who in turn will 'glorify' all that they possibly can.
The third thing that caught my attention this week was the 'penalty' shoot-out in the other European Cup semi. Here we saw professional athletes, unable in some cases, to even raise the ball from the tee, not alone tap it over from a mere 22m in front of the posts. It's probably fair enough though as the ball is the concern of only a limited number of rugby players. Most spend the game huffing and puffing at the pit of rucks and mauls. Wingers can regularily be seen shaking out their arms to try and get some blood circulating. I'd speculate that many professional rugby players haven't touched the ball in months. As you go lower down the ranks, i'd hasten a guess that some may have never touched the ball. Indeed, on occassion there may be a collision between man and ball but they rather concede the knock on than take the responsibility of carrier.
I mused over these and other thoughts yesterday afternoon. I was down at hurling training and we were doing some long pucking. None of us have decorated hurling careers in our wake but I was watching the regularity with which some could put the ball in a lads hand from 60 yards. It could be done with strikes from different angles and from different centres of gravity. On occassion you could see men double on a high ball out of the sky, striking it gently up in the air so it could be easily caught. Other balls would be deadened on the hurley, lofted high and launched back to its source.
Such skills can only be developed by men who have played the game since a small age. You don't see a 17 year old pick up a hurley for the first time and be able to garner enough skill in the years that follow to even find a place on the most average of teams. Contrast this with the regular stories of rugby lads taking up the game in their late teens and earning professional contracts withing a few years. I may be wrong but I remember another recent example of an Ulster lad who was in his twenties when he first crashed into a ball, and has even managed an international call up!!
What is my point? I just can't understand the basis for the hype which rugby has generated through having two decents teams in the whole country. One possible reason is the teams have been competitive on the international stage, something Ireland has a shortage of. But we need to put this into context. The French and maybe even the English teams often treat the European Cup as an afterthought. Their domestic leagues are packed with consistently competitive encounters, unlike the Apple Cider League. Ireland won a Grand Slam this year against a bunch of experimental teams contesting a Championship which represents the Northern Hemisphere's finest, but only produces as many competitive teams as the Munster Hurling Championship.
Yet, people are naive and they can be overcome by hype. Sky Sports have made the game. Its a fantastic television sport, lacking in fast play, allowing the camera follow the action. The lengthy time the ball spends stuck in a heap allows the commentator educate the ignorant audience. The 80 minute games allow for a glorious 30 second action packed musical summary to whet the appetite for the next day.
Contrast this to another sport which is rich in skill and hard hits, played at break-neck speed, but a television flop. It's Ice Hockey of course. The grace with which these men can move across the ice, their control at top speed and their ability to withstand physical threats from all angles, cannot be captured by even the highest definition of cameras and so are not watchable television sports.
Hurling suffers from a similiar problem. Its a game that cannot be appreciated on RTE or TV3. Rather than seek the support of Sky's wizards, the G.A.A has not sold out, thus ensuring the Irish public can freely watch the great game from their living rooms, rather than forcing its fans to dig deep for a Sky subscription or encouraging them down to the boozer.
However, the ease at which the public's hearts can be swayed, means the G.A.A. needs to act. We cannot be complacent. Tom Ryan's comment that 'this bandwagon will pass' is typical of a large section of the G.A.A. who stand with chests out and heads held high proclaiming about how the Association has looked down far bigger barrels without a hint of a flinch.
The tools of influence are now greater then ever however. The G.A.A. needs to face up. We have the greatest field sport in the world and what makes it great is the abundance of complex skills. This strength can be its biggest weakness as it makes the mastery of the art of hurling far more difficult for mere mortals to grasp. The campaign to win back the hearts and minds of kids needs to start now. Those lost to the bandwagons can be cut lose, but fellas like my three year old nephew (who is inexplicably sporting a #10 Munster jersey on a regular basis) need to be pointed in the right direction. Our clubs stand for far more than fancy copywriter phrases like 'Stand Up and Fight'. They stand for community. These rugby fans may shed a drunken tear when the men in red taste defeat but have they ever experienced being in a car with a lad crying uncontrollably from Croke Park to Cork after losing an All-Ireland? Have they been in the car as it pulled out from Caherlag filled with tears after their club has been defeated?
Rugby is merely Sport. G.A.A. is life and death. Its time to up the ante.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
The X Factor
I'm 28 today. When I started playing adult sport I looked at 28 year olds as some sort of useless ageing dinosaurs. My exposure to them was limited. As a schoolboy hockey player I togged out with Bandon Club's 3rd team at the weekend. I played centre mid and my school's Vice Principle Sean Crowley played centre forward. He was old, maybe 40+, but was still a competitive sportsman. He'd order me around to pitch, making sure i ran and retrieved enough ball for him to bang in a few goals. This situation was an exception though.
In previous blogs I mentioned the youth of our football team in Kinsale. Gearoid Condon was 21 when I arrived on the scene and he was old in my eyes. I used to thing fellas like that only had a few years left. Brian Murphy (s) must have been around 22/23. I thought their best days were long gone. Cormac Fitz was nearing a mid-twenties retirement and Gerry Murphy was the elderstatesman in his early thirties. They auld lads were few and far between though. The hurling was different. John Spuds, Paul Forde and Co were from a generation who were in their prime when I was still kicking and pucking smaller balls. As all these lads laboured at the back of the long runs, i look at them with pity, dreading the my body had aged to that extent.
As a young fella, your game is characterised by youthful abandonment. Your frame is wiry and can withstand sustained and harsh punishment both in the pubs, at the kitchen table, on the training pitch and in the big matches. Recovery time is limited because yor schedule is action packed but you give it little thought. When you get to University, you rarely sitting. Lectures in UCC were often swapped for a strategic standing area outside the Boole looking at all the lovely girls and swapping stories of the previous night's shenanagans. Great times, ideal for someone whose may purpose every week was to pack it with as much sport as possible.
Then reality comes and bites you in the ass. You're sitting at your desk at half seven in the morning nursing some knock you picked up at the previous night's training after being twisted and turned by some young buck with a point to prove. A few months later, shitty ergonomics at your desk lead to back problems. Before ya know it you're on a physio's table getting treated for hamstring problems. Every time you come back you are in the firing line. The bullets find their target more often and the journey back has more twists and turns. Whilst as a student you could nearly mimic a professional in terms of how you look after yourself, it becomes more difficult when you have a job. Your poor diet, unpredictable work hours, lack of english speaking medical support and all that craic makes it more difficult to keep the show on the road.
Between 24 and 28 I've experienced my share of all of that. A particularily bad back problem caused over two years of hassle and required a truck load of nurofen. Of course the mind always ignored the body and the longer recovery time was always shortened to suit the need. Its hard to take. Your confidence on the field can desert you and you can get all twisted up about it. However, with age comes experience, or maybe a better word is cuteness. I saw a quote from Paul O'Connell last week where he said as a younger player he placed no value on experience. I completely agree with him. I used to think speed, skill and strength was enough to overcome every obstacle. However, with each year, I became more curious about it. The ball started to find me with greater ease as my reading of the game improved. The tricky corner forwards became less annoying as you learned how to deal with their different antics. It took more to rattle you than a cheapshot off the ball or a costly error.
In the end, football and hurling are games played from the shoulds up. The man who plays the game with the head up will overcome the sillky play more often then not. I have one personal example of when youth met experience and lost unceremoniously. It was up at football training one night and we were playing backs and forwards. I hated this game. In it, a back could win a massive challenge, burst out of defence playing a couple of one twos before delivering it back to the kicker. Your man wouldn't bother his arse chasing you so when the next ball came in he was on his own. Invariably the kicker would give it the unmarked man. It drove me flipping mental. In response to this, i used to try and spoil the game by standing 10 or 15 yards in front of my man. The kicker would rarely be good enough to put it over your head but of course would try. Similiarily he would try to play it in low on occasion. You'd be made look great, by the time the heads would have turned to follow the play you'd be way out in front on your way to winning the ball and they'd think you were the right speedster.
There were two lads who I found it very difficult to utilise this ploy with, Gavin Farrissey and Gerry Murphy. Farrissey was quick but a little stout. He was a pain in the hole, always yapping. His run was simple and lively, straight across the pitch, ideal for the ball to be popped into space. Murphy was simply elusive. He captained Laune Rangers to the 1996 All-Ireland Club title and joined us in 1999. He played left corner forward and I played right corner back. His age and laziness meant he was not always at training, which was probably just as well for me! When he was there it was a massive challenge to mark him. He was tall, not lightning quick but could cover ground. His ability to kick off either foot negated the obvious defensive tactic. Early on he used to catch me by pushing against me just before he'd break for the ball creating space for himself. I could counter this easily but he was more than a one trick pony. I remember one night in particular when he was on fire and took me for 4/5 points in the game of backs and forwards. When one of the forwards went off injured the excess back was deployed to support me. Murphy continued to run wreck and sent me home a beaten man.
Obviously he didn't just rely on his experience as he was naturally very talented. He played the game with his head up and had been around the block enough times and marked enough spiteful corner backs to know how to deal with them. He knew how and when to vary the runs and how best to leverage his strengths. As you get older you recognise what you are good at and what needs improving which helps you develop as a player.
Anyway, when I came to Belgium I realised there was indeed competitve sport for the older vintage. FC Irlande, Belgium GAA and Oranje HC are expat based clubs. There is no continuous flow from underage teams, only an inflow and outflow of 'mature' expats. Many of our soccer team have said or will soon say goodbye to their twenties. Same with the other two clubs. Enda plays on the soccer and football team at 37 and can still operate! With this in mind i head off into my 29th year full of hope! It will be the year I stay injury free and get fitter, faster and stronger!! My diet will improve and as a result of all this, so to will my performances on the pitch! With another year's experience under my belt I'll be better than last year! So bring it on, show me what ya got!
In previous blogs I mentioned the youth of our football team in Kinsale. Gearoid Condon was 21 when I arrived on the scene and he was old in my eyes. I used to thing fellas like that only had a few years left. Brian Murphy (s) must have been around 22/23. I thought their best days were long gone. Cormac Fitz was nearing a mid-twenties retirement and Gerry Murphy was the elderstatesman in his early thirties. They auld lads were few and far between though. The hurling was different. John Spuds, Paul Forde and Co were from a generation who were in their prime when I was still kicking and pucking smaller balls. As all these lads laboured at the back of the long runs, i look at them with pity, dreading the my body had aged to that extent.
As a young fella, your game is characterised by youthful abandonment. Your frame is wiry and can withstand sustained and harsh punishment both in the pubs, at the kitchen table, on the training pitch and in the big matches. Recovery time is limited because yor schedule is action packed but you give it little thought. When you get to University, you rarely sitting. Lectures in UCC were often swapped for a strategic standing area outside the Boole looking at all the lovely girls and swapping stories of the previous night's shenanagans. Great times, ideal for someone whose may purpose every week was to pack it with as much sport as possible.
Then reality comes and bites you in the ass. You're sitting at your desk at half seven in the morning nursing some knock you picked up at the previous night's training after being twisted and turned by some young buck with a point to prove. A few months later, shitty ergonomics at your desk lead to back problems. Before ya know it you're on a physio's table getting treated for hamstring problems. Every time you come back you are in the firing line. The bullets find their target more often and the journey back has more twists and turns. Whilst as a student you could nearly mimic a professional in terms of how you look after yourself, it becomes more difficult when you have a job. Your poor diet, unpredictable work hours, lack of english speaking medical support and all that craic makes it more difficult to keep the show on the road.
Between 24 and 28 I've experienced my share of all of that. A particularily bad back problem caused over two years of hassle and required a truck load of nurofen. Of course the mind always ignored the body and the longer recovery time was always shortened to suit the need. Its hard to take. Your confidence on the field can desert you and you can get all twisted up about it. However, with age comes experience, or maybe a better word is cuteness. I saw a quote from Paul O'Connell last week where he said as a younger player he placed no value on experience. I completely agree with him. I used to think speed, skill and strength was enough to overcome every obstacle. However, with each year, I became more curious about it. The ball started to find me with greater ease as my reading of the game improved. The tricky corner forwards became less annoying as you learned how to deal with their different antics. It took more to rattle you than a cheapshot off the ball or a costly error.
In the end, football and hurling are games played from the shoulds up. The man who plays the game with the head up will overcome the sillky play more often then not. I have one personal example of when youth met experience and lost unceremoniously. It was up at football training one night and we were playing backs and forwards. I hated this game. In it, a back could win a massive challenge, burst out of defence playing a couple of one twos before delivering it back to the kicker. Your man wouldn't bother his arse chasing you so when the next ball came in he was on his own. Invariably the kicker would give it the unmarked man. It drove me flipping mental. In response to this, i used to try and spoil the game by standing 10 or 15 yards in front of my man. The kicker would rarely be good enough to put it over your head but of course would try. Similiarily he would try to play it in low on occasion. You'd be made look great, by the time the heads would have turned to follow the play you'd be way out in front on your way to winning the ball and they'd think you were the right speedster.
There were two lads who I found it very difficult to utilise this ploy with, Gavin Farrissey and Gerry Murphy. Farrissey was quick but a little stout. He was a pain in the hole, always yapping. His run was simple and lively, straight across the pitch, ideal for the ball to be popped into space. Murphy was simply elusive. He captained Laune Rangers to the 1996 All-Ireland Club title and joined us in 1999. He played left corner forward and I played right corner back. His age and laziness meant he was not always at training, which was probably just as well for me! When he was there it was a massive challenge to mark him. He was tall, not lightning quick but could cover ground. His ability to kick off either foot negated the obvious defensive tactic. Early on he used to catch me by pushing against me just before he'd break for the ball creating space for himself. I could counter this easily but he was more than a one trick pony. I remember one night in particular when he was on fire and took me for 4/5 points in the game of backs and forwards. When one of the forwards went off injured the excess back was deployed to support me. Murphy continued to run wreck and sent me home a beaten man.
Obviously he didn't just rely on his experience as he was naturally very talented. He played the game with his head up and had been around the block enough times and marked enough spiteful corner backs to know how to deal with them. He knew how and when to vary the runs and how best to leverage his strengths. As you get older you recognise what you are good at and what needs improving which helps you develop as a player.
Anyway, when I came to Belgium I realised there was indeed competitve sport for the older vintage. FC Irlande, Belgium GAA and Oranje HC are expat based clubs. There is no continuous flow from underage teams, only an inflow and outflow of 'mature' expats. Many of our soccer team have said or will soon say goodbye to their twenties. Same with the other two clubs. Enda plays on the soccer and football team at 37 and can still operate! With this in mind i head off into my 29th year full of hope! It will be the year I stay injury free and get fitter, faster and stronger!! My diet will improve and as a result of all this, so to will my performances on the pitch! With another year's experience under my belt I'll be better than last year! So bring it on, show me what ya got!
Monday, May 4, 2009
Den Hague Domination Continues
When you win, you can do no wrong. You are showered with overly generous praise but you take it all with a grain of salt, conscious of what might be around the next corner. Every corner we turned last year revealed a bigger prize and each time we pocketed it and moved on in search of the next. The turn of the year has brought a serious downturn in the global economy and our Gaelic Footballers have also been rocked up some tremors. Amsterdam could be written off without much damage reported given the skeleton squad, early season cobwebs and a flurry of other excuses which were easy on the ear. Fine. Done. Move on. Den Hague was to be different. Two squads, all shoulders to the wheel, we'd be grand.
First up were Luxembourg. We started well. I clipped over an early point after some sharp exchanges of handpasses. At times the ball moved seamlessly from defence to attack but on other occasions it got caught tucked under a Belgian arm, not wanting to join in the play. We found ourselves 0-7 to 0-4 down with the game nearly up. Enda had strained a hamstring. We started with no subs as Eoin Sheanon, who had spent the previous night in Holland, could not work his GPS apparently! He stood on the sideline but there was penance to be survived so there he stayed. The boys pulled it out of the fire as Eoghan Kelly whipped over a cracking score to level with one of the final actions, after a great cross field ball by Micheal.
To qualify as group winners we needed to beat The Hague B by more than what Lux had. 16 points was the target but we didn't get too worried about it. As long as we won we qualified and if we were to win the final, we would need to beat Amsterdam and The Hague anyway, as they qualified from their group. It was a stroll as we clocked up a cricket score. The danger in that type of game is lads will carry the ball, try to beat 10 men and then go for their own score. In fairness, we didn't engage in that behaviour but some of our finishing in front of goal was appalling!! Only frustration point was shooting for goal from narrow angles rather than fisting it over the bar.
This set up a semi with Amsterdam. They've recruited a few handy new lads this year and have a few giants in their ranks. We led 0-4 to 0-1 at half-time but they had missed some scoreable frees. In the second half they left nothing behind them and led by two points in the final minutes. A long ball out of our defence found Eoin who took off towards goal. En route he was unceremoniously met by two opposition defenders, one of whom pushed him into the other's knee, resulting in a possible broken nose and fat lip. Controversy surrounded whether it should be a penalty or a twenty yard free. Sheanon's final position was well inside the square. It’s debatable about where the contact happened. A twenty yard free was given which was hard to stomach but worse still the offenders went unpunished after the cynical foul. Micheal slotted it over to leave a point between the sides. We won the kick-out, worked it into a scoreable position but Ciaran Finn's curling effort went just wide.
They moved onto the final whilst we went on to play the 3rd/4th place play-off against Lux. We won the game handy but it was a toothless affair. Emmett's rocket in the second half finished them off. Again, we showed flashes of good play but were struggling to keep it up for the duration. The Hague won the final with some to spare and their second win a row gives them serious momentum heading down to Lux at the end of May. For us, a little reflection is needed in the next few weeks.
It presents me with an interesting situation. When a team that’s used to winning starts to lose, often the first thing that gets questioned is the methods of the man in charge. I could sense it building on Saturday. Players will often look for a scapegoat before looking at themselves. Their opinion on what’s right and wrong can flow back and forth easily as the history of thought gets lost amongst the opinions of the rest of the group. The trainer on the other hand cannot waver to such as everyone word can be thrown back at him by the group, who tend to have long memories. He needs to listen but also sift out all the bullsh1t to try and extract the valid points. I was presented with many opinions the other night which if put along side the same sources opinions the previous week, are in direct contradiction. Still, some useful points were made. The point is that its easy to spout but a more consistent thought process is required to succeed, especially when you arrive on shaky ground.
Training has been building nicely with good numbers regularly attending. One little concern is the absence of some 'A' players on a regular basis. The European elections have temporarily repatriated some lads to Ireland, others have been missing because of holidays, babies etc. Also, we've picked up a lot more injuries this year than last. However, in addition to these issues, I'd be frank enough and say that it has fallen down some lads list of priorities and also the hunger seems to have diminished. Some lads go unaccounted for and I think others don't do enough to free themselves up. Of course it’s a personal choice but fellas need to link it to what you see on the pitch, It was easy to be motivated when we were chasing the pack but we've struggled to lead it and we need to get that fire back.
I think about G.A.A. matters to an extent that is disproportionate to their importance. This is why, despite being knackered last night, I could not sleep. Reflecting on things lads had said to me over the weekend and thinking of how to improve things is what occupied my thoughts. I really think we have good players and we are not found wanting for fitness. On Saturday our work rate and decision making, defensively, was a little disappointing however. Also, we went forward in droves, making an effort to work the ball up by hand, supporting the man in possession, which is what we talk about all the time but don't always do. That was pleasing but at times we caused ourselves problems. We had lads lining up to shoot which sometimes makes a player hesitant to go himself as lads outside him are roaring for it. That can lead to clustering and over passing which defenders love. When you lose possession they can break fast and into the space you have left. So by closing ourselves down at one end of the pitch, we actually created space at the other end for the opposition to expose. Against Amsterdam, a lot of long balls went into their full forward line in the second half. The gap between our half backs and full backs was too great and left the lads a bit exposed.
We can get overwhelmed with tactics. At the highest level, they can indeed be the difference. At lower levels, where players have less of a 'sporting brain', you witness them act through their instincts more. It’s those instincts that need working on and refining where necessary. Simple adjustments, instructions and practice will be the key to our improvement. In Amsterdam, I asked a few lads to carry the ball a bit more given we were missing some big hitters. It didn't work. For weeks before The Hague I preached about moving the ball and supporting the man in possession. It’s harder to do than you might think. We saw the benefit of moving the ball quickly. Well, all except Eoin. His aversion to passing drives those around him mental. On Saturday, more than in the past, he released the ball. I don't know does he realise that when he draws two or three men, it leaves a few of our lads open. When he found them they invariably scored. Not directly his scores, but the team’s scores. Still on Saturday night he complained that he passed too much! I mentioned earlier the issue we had with support play and the issue with clustering things up in attack and exposing us in defence. It’s easily solved and we'll get it right for Luxembourg.
That’s stuff for the training pitch and we can control it. What is more difficult to control is whether lads have the same hunger or not. It’s difficult for them to know themselves. In a previous blog I mentioned Kinsale's County Final in 2001. The hunger that year was unreal. We overcame every obstacle we faced on the way to the final. Injuries, suspensions, difficult opponents, falling outs...the lot. In 2002, we laboured to a South-East final and were dethroned by Ballygarvan. One occasion sums up the difference between 2001 and 2002. I think it was an August Bank Holiday weekend and Cork were playing Mayo in the All-Ireland QF. We were to train on the Monday I think. Attendance was sh1t. Many travelled to the game and didn't return in time. On the way up to training, one of the selectors passed a few lads in the pub. Training on a Bank Holiday had become unacceptable whereas the year before they would have walked back from Dublin to get there. Other things became more important. Sacrifice places greater importance on things and is a necessary component to generate hunger.
I know some may link my ranting and raving at training and outside to having some sort of ego. I'd hope they are not right but my pride does get hurt when a team I train and play on loses. I'll take my share of the hits as trainer but as players we need to look to ourselves as well. The bar in Benelux has risen a little this year and we are now playing catch up. We've learned some good lessons so far and it’s better to learn them now. Creating a winning habit is important no doubt, but I'd rather lead the pack at the end rather than at the beginning. After my sleepless night of reflection, I'm hardened for the battle that lies ahead. I hope my team-mates share the feeling.
With that issue put to bed, it is also important to reflect on our B team’s first outing. Pitted against Amsterdam and Den Hague in the first two games, they found the going tough. However, their endeavour was admirable and they frustrated Den Hague into kicking some shocking wides. Defeat in the group meant a 5th/6th place play-off against Den Hague B. They beat them convincingly and kept them to one point, less than either Lux or Belgium A managed!! We await Conan’s detailed report as I did not see enough of the action to comment. I did catch Ruairi’s goal though, a brilliantly worked move from our own defence. The B team’s enthusiasm is refreshing and hopefully it can influence the rest of ours.
First up were Luxembourg. We started well. I clipped over an early point after some sharp exchanges of handpasses. At times the ball moved seamlessly from defence to attack but on other occasions it got caught tucked under a Belgian arm, not wanting to join in the play. We found ourselves 0-7 to 0-4 down with the game nearly up. Enda had strained a hamstring. We started with no subs as Eoin Sheanon, who had spent the previous night in Holland, could not work his GPS apparently! He stood on the sideline but there was penance to be survived so there he stayed. The boys pulled it out of the fire as Eoghan Kelly whipped over a cracking score to level with one of the final actions, after a great cross field ball by Micheal.
To qualify as group winners we needed to beat The Hague B by more than what Lux had. 16 points was the target but we didn't get too worried about it. As long as we won we qualified and if we were to win the final, we would need to beat Amsterdam and The Hague anyway, as they qualified from their group. It was a stroll as we clocked up a cricket score. The danger in that type of game is lads will carry the ball, try to beat 10 men and then go for their own score. In fairness, we didn't engage in that behaviour but some of our finishing in front of goal was appalling!! Only frustration point was shooting for goal from narrow angles rather than fisting it over the bar.
This set up a semi with Amsterdam. They've recruited a few handy new lads this year and have a few giants in their ranks. We led 0-4 to 0-1 at half-time but they had missed some scoreable frees. In the second half they left nothing behind them and led by two points in the final minutes. A long ball out of our defence found Eoin who took off towards goal. En route he was unceremoniously met by two opposition defenders, one of whom pushed him into the other's knee, resulting in a possible broken nose and fat lip. Controversy surrounded whether it should be a penalty or a twenty yard free. Sheanon's final position was well inside the square. It’s debatable about where the contact happened. A twenty yard free was given which was hard to stomach but worse still the offenders went unpunished after the cynical foul. Micheal slotted it over to leave a point between the sides. We won the kick-out, worked it into a scoreable position but Ciaran Finn's curling effort went just wide.
They moved onto the final whilst we went on to play the 3rd/4th place play-off against Lux. We won the game handy but it was a toothless affair. Emmett's rocket in the second half finished them off. Again, we showed flashes of good play but were struggling to keep it up for the duration. The Hague won the final with some to spare and their second win a row gives them serious momentum heading down to Lux at the end of May. For us, a little reflection is needed in the next few weeks.
It presents me with an interesting situation. When a team that’s used to winning starts to lose, often the first thing that gets questioned is the methods of the man in charge. I could sense it building on Saturday. Players will often look for a scapegoat before looking at themselves. Their opinion on what’s right and wrong can flow back and forth easily as the history of thought gets lost amongst the opinions of the rest of the group. The trainer on the other hand cannot waver to such as everyone word can be thrown back at him by the group, who tend to have long memories. He needs to listen but also sift out all the bullsh1t to try and extract the valid points. I was presented with many opinions the other night which if put along side the same sources opinions the previous week, are in direct contradiction. Still, some useful points were made. The point is that its easy to spout but a more consistent thought process is required to succeed, especially when you arrive on shaky ground.
Training has been building nicely with good numbers regularly attending. One little concern is the absence of some 'A' players on a regular basis. The European elections have temporarily repatriated some lads to Ireland, others have been missing because of holidays, babies etc. Also, we've picked up a lot more injuries this year than last. However, in addition to these issues, I'd be frank enough and say that it has fallen down some lads list of priorities and also the hunger seems to have diminished. Some lads go unaccounted for and I think others don't do enough to free themselves up. Of course it’s a personal choice but fellas need to link it to what you see on the pitch, It was easy to be motivated when we were chasing the pack but we've struggled to lead it and we need to get that fire back.
I think about G.A.A. matters to an extent that is disproportionate to their importance. This is why, despite being knackered last night, I could not sleep. Reflecting on things lads had said to me over the weekend and thinking of how to improve things is what occupied my thoughts. I really think we have good players and we are not found wanting for fitness. On Saturday our work rate and decision making, defensively, was a little disappointing however. Also, we went forward in droves, making an effort to work the ball up by hand, supporting the man in possession, which is what we talk about all the time but don't always do. That was pleasing but at times we caused ourselves problems. We had lads lining up to shoot which sometimes makes a player hesitant to go himself as lads outside him are roaring for it. That can lead to clustering and over passing which defenders love. When you lose possession they can break fast and into the space you have left. So by closing ourselves down at one end of the pitch, we actually created space at the other end for the opposition to expose. Against Amsterdam, a lot of long balls went into their full forward line in the second half. The gap between our half backs and full backs was too great and left the lads a bit exposed.
We can get overwhelmed with tactics. At the highest level, they can indeed be the difference. At lower levels, where players have less of a 'sporting brain', you witness them act through their instincts more. It’s those instincts that need working on and refining where necessary. Simple adjustments, instructions and practice will be the key to our improvement. In Amsterdam, I asked a few lads to carry the ball a bit more given we were missing some big hitters. It didn't work. For weeks before The Hague I preached about moving the ball and supporting the man in possession. It’s harder to do than you might think. We saw the benefit of moving the ball quickly. Well, all except Eoin. His aversion to passing drives those around him mental. On Saturday, more than in the past, he released the ball. I don't know does he realise that when he draws two or three men, it leaves a few of our lads open. When he found them they invariably scored. Not directly his scores, but the team’s scores. Still on Saturday night he complained that he passed too much! I mentioned earlier the issue we had with support play and the issue with clustering things up in attack and exposing us in defence. It’s easily solved and we'll get it right for Luxembourg.
That’s stuff for the training pitch and we can control it. What is more difficult to control is whether lads have the same hunger or not. It’s difficult for them to know themselves. In a previous blog I mentioned Kinsale's County Final in 2001. The hunger that year was unreal. We overcame every obstacle we faced on the way to the final. Injuries, suspensions, difficult opponents, falling outs...the lot. In 2002, we laboured to a South-East final and were dethroned by Ballygarvan. One occasion sums up the difference between 2001 and 2002. I think it was an August Bank Holiday weekend and Cork were playing Mayo in the All-Ireland QF. We were to train on the Monday I think. Attendance was sh1t. Many travelled to the game and didn't return in time. On the way up to training, one of the selectors passed a few lads in the pub. Training on a Bank Holiday had become unacceptable whereas the year before they would have walked back from Dublin to get there. Other things became more important. Sacrifice places greater importance on things and is a necessary component to generate hunger.
I know some may link my ranting and raving at training and outside to having some sort of ego. I'd hope they are not right but my pride does get hurt when a team I train and play on loses. I'll take my share of the hits as trainer but as players we need to look to ourselves as well. The bar in Benelux has risen a little this year and we are now playing catch up. We've learned some good lessons so far and it’s better to learn them now. Creating a winning habit is important no doubt, but I'd rather lead the pack at the end rather than at the beginning. After my sleepless night of reflection, I'm hardened for the battle that lies ahead. I hope my team-mates share the feeling.
With that issue put to bed, it is also important to reflect on our B team’s first outing. Pitted against Amsterdam and Den Hague in the first two games, they found the going tough. However, their endeavour was admirable and they frustrated Den Hague into kicking some shocking wides. Defeat in the group meant a 5th/6th place play-off against Den Hague B. They beat them convincingly and kept them to one point, less than either Lux or Belgium A managed!! We await Conan’s detailed report as I did not see enough of the action to comment. I did catch Ruairi’s goal though, a brilliantly worked move from our own defence. The B team’s enthusiasm is refreshing and hopefully it can influence the rest of ours.
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