Happy Independance Day

A small part of me always feels the need to celebrate America's birthday on each 4th of July. The slight sense of attachment of the occasion comes from the a stint in Indianapolis, Indiana between 1989 and 1992. Dad was working for an American pharmaceutical company and he was sent over to HQ on a temporary assignment.

By chance, my mother's sister had married an American and they had just moved from Boston to 'Indy' as the locals call it. It made the transition much easier for us as they had two children, Brian and Jenny, who were slightly younger than us.

In many ways, America is a great country to live in because there is so much opportunity and the cost of living is reasonable. We travelled west to San Fran, north into Canada, east to Washington and down south to Orlando and Sarasota. It was a great experience.

We were also exposed to different sports and I played a bit of soccer in a park league. The most enjoyable sporting experience was basketball though. Even though i was tiny, i was still able to find a slot as a guard and loved every minute. Basketball is very tactical and even at the age of 9 or 10 it’s a game dictated by various plays. Everyone knows their role and is expected to execute the play according to the coach's instruction.

'Practice' was always great. You'd run through the plays, have a bit of shooting practice and then a 'scrimmage'!! I completely bought into it and appreciated that everyone knew their role. Of course you didn't just go around in a straight jacket, if the defence countered your play then there would be the need for a bit of flair or creativity to beat the shot clock.

I was lucky that when I was there that it was the era of the 1992 Olympic Dream Team. I got to see Jordan, Barkley, Reggie, Bird etc in full flight, live at Market Square Arena. G.A.A. players would benefit from a stint on the hard court. They could improve their handling, peripheral vision, selflessness, agility and a host of other things.

Of course, even when in the US, GAA was never far away. We used to puck around in the local park to the bemusement of locals; their reactions a lot like what we see in Brussels when we train. It was a great era of Cork G.A.A. around that period, the highlight being the double in 1990. We were in Chicago the weekend of the hurling with a few other Irish. I remember the football more vividly though. Myself and Dad set off around 5am from Indy, equipped with all the essentials you would need to go to Thurles or anywhere else.

I think it was €20 to get in and we took our seats in a dark room in Gaelic Park in Chicago. The screen was blank at first, then there was volume and with the tweaking of a couple of more wires we had a picture, which was greeted by a great cheer. Within a half an hour of the final whistle, we were celebrating in Pizza Hit. Bizarre.

Whilst it was a great experience living abroad, we were happy to come home. I continuously remind Dad that he took me away in my formative GAA years. To compound it, within a year he shipped me off to boarding school. Whatever way you dress it up, it was a protestant boarding school, which made matters worse. A story for another day..