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!