A season that brought us as far east as Dubai, North to Copenhagen, West to Rennes and South to Zurich, will come to an end when the floodlights are switched off in Maastricht on Saturday evening. 24 teams, nearly 400 players and guests will attend. When the days activities conclude, all will disappear into the winter months. Some will never appear again whilst others will return with Spring.
Over 60 Belgium G.A.A. Members will make the short journey across the Dutch border in an almighty demonstration of the growth of our club. Those of you who follow the blog will have read all the prematch torment i normally write about, with players missing for all sorts of reasons. Tomorrow the A team will have 14, the B's 16. There were lads that on another day would have played big roles in the A squad. Tomorrow our only absentees are long term injury victims Crusher and Emmett. Although in Crusher's case, if we asked him to play he probably would as he has been bombing around in training, only five months after doing his cruciate. February will be time enough though.
The A's will have to do it the hard way as our group contains Championship contenders Den Haag and the talented Budapest side. It truly is a magnificant challenge. The B's face Copenhagen, Zurich and Valencia.
From an A team perspective, we can still win it, although with an extravagent series of results which Cluxton sent me today. Our goal is simple though; carry the form from Tir Chonnail Gaels into tomorrows games and enjoy it. If we can dig out sufficient drive then we can really rattle it. There is no hiding that the A team has not trained enough and has yet to show the necessary hunger but hopefully we can find it tomorrow.
The post tournament festivities will take place in Maastricht Football Club's stadium and if last years 'do' is anything to go by, it should be a massive evening. The Ladies will be crowned European Champions regardless of tomorrows outcome and the Hurlers will also collect the European Cup. If the footballers were to complete a treble with a victory in the Shield or Championship, it would be a great end to a turbulent year.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Booked
Des Bishop says the Irish are only happy when they're miserable. Maybe that explains why some of the best selling pieces of Irish literature feature horrid stories of war, religious misdemeanours, battles with alcohol and other struggles and continue to entice us to turn the page. G.A.A. books are no different and are being delivered all over the country at a frantic rate in recent weeks.
These books aren't like books about other sports. They are differentiated by the real life element which is sorely lacking from other codes which have morphed into a form of sports entertainment and moved away from the ideals from which they grew.
Pick up any G.A.A. book and you will read about sacrifice, hardship & difficulties managing family, money, work etc. There will be stories of struggles with administrators, teammates, managers and supporters. The player doesn't live the pampered lifestyle enjoyed by those across the water or those on the Southside of the Liffey. He lives life; all aspects of it.
I particularly enjoyed Davy Fitz's book. Especially the story about breaking onto the Clare panel as a young fella. He used to get up at the crack of dawn every morning and cycle to a certain spot on the road to Shannon. He'd bait the sliotar against the wall until the Clare keeper at the time passed on his way to work. Once he had, Davy would hop back on the bike and head home for breakfast before leaving for work himself. He was chipping away at his mind. Others like Charlie Carter, Brian Corcoran, Dessie Farrell all had stories worth reading regardless of what you think about them or the counties from which they hail.
I've only read the extracts in the newspapers from the recent publications but in keeping with my habit of expressing an opinion on a range of topics I may know very little about, I will do so about some of the latest editions.
First up is Brian Cody's. No interest. I imagine it to be dry, clinical and lacking in depth. Great respect for the man but does he lift the lid on Charlie Carter or any other rows which inevitably occurred along the way? Not from what I hear.
Tadhg. Oh darling Tadgh! Will he be run all the way back to Sydney after his admission to doing a job on Nicolas Murphy in the AI Final? He offended a lot of football folk both in Kerry and across the County bounds. Folk who were proud of the untarnished honest endeavour which has characterised the fixture through the ages. I'll buy it though. He went to Oz and made it in an environment which has caused so many others to pack their bags. He must have something about him to stick it out.
Donal Og. His 'shock' revelation shouldn’t have really been a shock. We all heard the rumours, just didn't believe a Hurler would have such a declaration to make. As his brother said to his father though, 'that'll broaden your mind'. I'm totally opposed to Donal Og's militant approach to items like the strikes but I've total respect for his passion for hurling. He trained his club to a couple of County finals while still in his mid-twenties. He had them up at the crack of dawn when, of all people, he didn't have much spare time on his hands.
Billy Morgan. The man is an icon. Growing up, he was Cork football to all of us. As I read on a forum last week, if blood was blue, Billy would still bleed red. I hear the writing is kind of simple but Billy is a raw kind of guy so I expect it to contain some great tales. I'm especially looking forward to reading about his club Nemo. I think they are a fantastic club and what their inter-county stars put back in after they retire is admirable.
Micky Harte is Micky Harte. A bit of a revolutionary. I read his last book, a diary of the 2003 (?) All-Ireland success. The Nordies brought training to a new level in the last decade and he was one of the leaders in this field. He is an inspiring character.
However, the book I expect to top my list is called 'Working on a Dream'. It follows the Division 4 Waterford footballers around every twist and turn on the backroads of the All-Ireland football Championship. Led by the maverick character that is John Kiely, you can be sure the stories will be plentiful and filled with colour. I saw them play Cork in May in Dungarvan and you'd never believe he was an inter county manager as he trapsed across the pitch in his work boots, jeans and Waterford rugby style top.
We can all relate to these lads. You only play for Waterford footballers if you really love the game and your County. There's nothing sexy about playing the likes of Kilkenny in football's basement battles. They plough on with great endeavour though, despite the impoverished conditions which they are often exposed too. The purity of their approach and their love for Waterford is summed up for me in one passage. In the book, player Cillian O'Keeffe, recalls receiving a circular email from Donal Og. It was at the height of the Cork strike and sought to rally support for the players from their GPA colleagues around the country. O'Keeffe emailed a response: "Stop sending me this rubbish. Either go back and play with your county or retire!"
They all promise to be thoroughly enjoyable reads, giving us real insight into the life of an inter county player and the struggles attached. I'll buy them all, but Cody can wait another year.
These books aren't like books about other sports. They are differentiated by the real life element which is sorely lacking from other codes which have morphed into a form of sports entertainment and moved away from the ideals from which they grew.
Pick up any G.A.A. book and you will read about sacrifice, hardship & difficulties managing family, money, work etc. There will be stories of struggles with administrators, teammates, managers and supporters. The player doesn't live the pampered lifestyle enjoyed by those across the water or those on the Southside of the Liffey. He lives life; all aspects of it.
I particularly enjoyed Davy Fitz's book. Especially the story about breaking onto the Clare panel as a young fella. He used to get up at the crack of dawn every morning and cycle to a certain spot on the road to Shannon. He'd bait the sliotar against the wall until the Clare keeper at the time passed on his way to work. Once he had, Davy would hop back on the bike and head home for breakfast before leaving for work himself. He was chipping away at his mind. Others like Charlie Carter, Brian Corcoran, Dessie Farrell all had stories worth reading regardless of what you think about them or the counties from which they hail.
I've only read the extracts in the newspapers from the recent publications but in keeping with my habit of expressing an opinion on a range of topics I may know very little about, I will do so about some of the latest editions.
First up is Brian Cody's. No interest. I imagine it to be dry, clinical and lacking in depth. Great respect for the man but does he lift the lid on Charlie Carter or any other rows which inevitably occurred along the way? Not from what I hear.
Tadhg. Oh darling Tadgh! Will he be run all the way back to Sydney after his admission to doing a job on Nicolas Murphy in the AI Final? He offended a lot of football folk both in Kerry and across the County bounds. Folk who were proud of the untarnished honest endeavour which has characterised the fixture through the ages. I'll buy it though. He went to Oz and made it in an environment which has caused so many others to pack their bags. He must have something about him to stick it out.
Donal Og. His 'shock' revelation shouldn’t have really been a shock. We all heard the rumours, just didn't believe a Hurler would have such a declaration to make. As his brother said to his father though, 'that'll broaden your mind'. I'm totally opposed to Donal Og's militant approach to items like the strikes but I've total respect for his passion for hurling. He trained his club to a couple of County finals while still in his mid-twenties. He had them up at the crack of dawn when, of all people, he didn't have much spare time on his hands.
Billy Morgan. The man is an icon. Growing up, he was Cork football to all of us. As I read on a forum last week, if blood was blue, Billy would still bleed red. I hear the writing is kind of simple but Billy is a raw kind of guy so I expect it to contain some great tales. I'm especially looking forward to reading about his club Nemo. I think they are a fantastic club and what their inter-county stars put back in after they retire is admirable.
Micky Harte is Micky Harte. A bit of a revolutionary. I read his last book, a diary of the 2003 (?) All-Ireland success. The Nordies brought training to a new level in the last decade and he was one of the leaders in this field. He is an inspiring character.
However, the book I expect to top my list is called 'Working on a Dream'. It follows the Division 4 Waterford footballers around every twist and turn on the backroads of the All-Ireland football Championship. Led by the maverick character that is John Kiely, you can be sure the stories will be plentiful and filled with colour. I saw them play Cork in May in Dungarvan and you'd never believe he was an inter county manager as he trapsed across the pitch in his work boots, jeans and Waterford rugby style top.
We can all relate to these lads. You only play for Waterford footballers if you really love the game and your County. There's nothing sexy about playing the likes of Kilkenny in football's basement battles. They plough on with great endeavour though, despite the impoverished conditions which they are often exposed too. The purity of their approach and their love for Waterford is summed up for me in one passage. In the book, player Cillian O'Keeffe, recalls receiving a circular email from Donal Og. It was at the height of the Cork strike and sought to rally support for the players from their GPA colleagues around the country. O'Keeffe emailed a response: "Stop sending me this rubbish. Either go back and play with your county or retire!"
They all promise to be thoroughly enjoyable reads, giving us real insight into the life of an inter county player and the struggles attached. I'll buy them all, but Cody can wait another year.
Monday, October 26, 2009
When Its Good Its Great
When Championship time roles round the excuses begin to dry up and heads pop out from under every stone. Brian O'Regan used to goad the lads at home, heralding their return with his favourite phrase; 'ye smell a medal ye f**kers!' Different country, same behaviour. We had two of our most energetic sessions in months last Saturday and tonight.
Determined to enjoy the calm I have found in the last few months, I have cruised through the last few weeks and enjoyed each session. I even did the unheard of and allowed us play indoor soccer on some occassions. Of course, all the time I wondered why the numbers at girls training were so good, when they didn't even have a trainer alot of nights! Maybe thats the hint!! Seriously though, they all work in the same areas as the lads but still go out of their way to train. This is one reason why training girls can be more rewarding. When they commit to something, they show up religiously, listen and put in effort.
They don't miss training because they are eating Tiramasu (I'm going easy on you Rochey) or because they can't pull themselves together on a Saturday morning (i'm looking at you Hudson....and you too Ollie after I heard you live with him). They don't turn up and get sick after the warm-up either 'Star'. Still, as I say, I'm in a happy place. When Sheanon texts and says he can't make training because he has to be at work at 8 the next morning, I no longer rise to the bait.
Back to training. Saturday mornings are an awful time for it and its important to keep their concentration the entire time or their minds will wander. Gill and Clux were assigned warm-up duty with the clear direction to set a lively tone. We rattled through a series of competitive conditioned games with the minimum rest time.
Tonight was the same. A few ball drills and then straight into it. Fellas look lively and energetic. We've one session left on Wednesday night to ensure we carry that into the final tournament of the year in Maastricht. My only concern is that they don't have a resevoir of hard work and pain built up. That was the difference between Paris and ourselves on the last two occassions. They have the drive and the will. Say what you want, it makes a difference.
Our approach will be a pressure free one on Saturday. Just go out and play ball. Move it and yourself at pace. Block scores, kick scores, get the ball. We shouldn't win but we might just win. Why not? The pressure is on the rest and we have it in our locker to upset the best of them.
Determined to enjoy the calm I have found in the last few months, I have cruised through the last few weeks and enjoyed each session. I even did the unheard of and allowed us play indoor soccer on some occassions. Of course, all the time I wondered why the numbers at girls training were so good, when they didn't even have a trainer alot of nights! Maybe thats the hint!! Seriously though, they all work in the same areas as the lads but still go out of their way to train. This is one reason why training girls can be more rewarding. When they commit to something, they show up religiously, listen and put in effort.
They don't miss training because they are eating Tiramasu (I'm going easy on you Rochey) or because they can't pull themselves together on a Saturday morning (i'm looking at you Hudson....and you too Ollie after I heard you live with him). They don't turn up and get sick after the warm-up either 'Star'. Still, as I say, I'm in a happy place. When Sheanon texts and says he can't make training because he has to be at work at 8 the next morning, I no longer rise to the bait.
Back to training. Saturday mornings are an awful time for it and its important to keep their concentration the entire time or their minds will wander. Gill and Clux were assigned warm-up duty with the clear direction to set a lively tone. We rattled through a series of competitive conditioned games with the minimum rest time.
Tonight was the same. A few ball drills and then straight into it. Fellas look lively and energetic. We've one session left on Wednesday night to ensure we carry that into the final tournament of the year in Maastricht. My only concern is that they don't have a resevoir of hard work and pain built up. That was the difference between Paris and ourselves on the last two occassions. They have the drive and the will. Say what you want, it makes a difference.
Our approach will be a pressure free one on Saturday. Just go out and play ball. Move it and yourself at pace. Block scores, kick scores, get the ball. We shouldn't win but we might just win. Why not? The pressure is on the rest and we have it in our locker to upset the best of them.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Bound By The Pre-Match Ritual
Jim Butler. The most famous thing he ever did on a hockey pitch was, when 2-0 down against CofI in the last game of the 2000 (?) season, he stepped up to take a penalty stroke. It was supposed to breath life into our quest for the great escape. His shot dribbled against the post. Butler was lucky though, his deficiences were compensated by the mixed bag of talents surrounding him. We came back and grabbed the winner in the closing moments when a diving Elmer connected with a cross. UCC survived against the odds.
Jim liked the nightlife and was a dependable wingman, whatever the night, whatever the occassion. What amused me though, was from Saturday through Thursday he used to lead a red bull and vodka fuelled existence. However, once Thursday morning arrived, it was water, pasta and all that craic, in preparation for the big game on a Saturday. I think I tried to debate with him on occassion, about the value of this inconsistent behaviour. It never worked for me anyway as my body didn't like the instant change and deprevation of Four Star Pizza. The one point I could agree on was the value of abstaining from drink though.
During those UCC days we had an elaborate set of fines laid out which were applied to missing training, drinking on a Thursday/Friday before a match, being late, mobile phones during team talks and that kind a jazz. We also had ones for indiscipline on the pitch, which were often referred to the committee! It was good craic though and we'd drink the proceeds on an appointed occassion.
However, the hockey season was my off season from G.A.A. and I liked to loosen the the grip on the social life a little. I was a regular in Fast Eddies and Redz those days and they were safe havens on Thursday nights. I used to run into Andy Barber regularily and occassionally Eoinzy. They were inevitably drinking so our secret was safe. The only time I nearly slipped was a weekend when we were due to travel to Monkstown in The Irish Senior Cup. I can't remember where i ended up on the Thursday night but I had to be at The Star by noon on the Friday to get the bus. I just made it and instantly cited a bad flu to explain my demeanour after arriving.
I'd say I could count on one hand the times I've drank anything the night before a game though. One occassion was when we were due to play Courceys in 2001 in the league final. It was the last weekend before Christmas and the hockey had just finished for the winter break. The girls were out and there was probably one who had pricked my interest and that was sufficient to engage me. We ended up in Redz but I was still probably in bed for three.
The game was in Kinsale the next morning at 11h30 so i hopped in the car and headed bown from Brookfield. It was a sh1tty morning; wet and windy. Perfect for blowing the cobwebs off and even better for a back who was marking the speedster David Hayes. The game went well, we won and I survived in tact. I'd injured my ankle after the South-East final so it was one of my first games back. The hangover factor was probabaly a blessing as it took my mind off the ankle.
I don't really remember any other instances where i strayed. Mentally, I just can't do it. Not even one or two. On St. Stephens Day the UCC old boys play the current XI and i wouldn't even drink on Christmas Day purely because of that. Totally over the top i know but I play sport to enjoy it and i enjoy it more when i play well. Rocking up with a hangover is one good way to try and ensure you won't do either.
It was only when I moved to Belgium and was going home to visit that I realised how many lads would be in The White Lady the night before games. I was disgusted but there ya go.
Even though the sporting realm within which I operate in Belgium will never mean as much to me or motivate me the way playing with UCC or Kinsale did, I still follow the same approach. I left work late on Friday evening and the traffic had died down. Brussels is the kind of place where everyone heads out of at the weekend and leave deserted streets behind. Still, the feeling takes hold of you as you drive down the road to Shuman roundabout and swing right past the Commission in the direction of watering holes such as The Hairy Canary and The Oak. Those wintry after work pints in the warmth of the bar. I love the thought of it but I kept on my way up Rue Franklin.
It was worth it on Saturday as FC Irlande seconds won a top of the table clash away at Pharma. I played in the holding midfield role; a negative and destructive job! Whatever about how I played, I felt good, was able to bomb around the place and thoroughly enjoyed the many pints after. The day will come for those wintry pints but for now those old habits live on.
Jim liked the nightlife and was a dependable wingman, whatever the night, whatever the occassion. What amused me though, was from Saturday through Thursday he used to lead a red bull and vodka fuelled existence. However, once Thursday morning arrived, it was water, pasta and all that craic, in preparation for the big game on a Saturday. I think I tried to debate with him on occassion, about the value of this inconsistent behaviour. It never worked for me anyway as my body didn't like the instant change and deprevation of Four Star Pizza. The one point I could agree on was the value of abstaining from drink though.
During those UCC days we had an elaborate set of fines laid out which were applied to missing training, drinking on a Thursday/Friday before a match, being late, mobile phones during team talks and that kind a jazz. We also had ones for indiscipline on the pitch, which were often referred to the committee! It was good craic though and we'd drink the proceeds on an appointed occassion.
However, the hockey season was my off season from G.A.A. and I liked to loosen the the grip on the social life a little. I was a regular in Fast Eddies and Redz those days and they were safe havens on Thursday nights. I used to run into Andy Barber regularily and occassionally Eoinzy. They were inevitably drinking so our secret was safe. The only time I nearly slipped was a weekend when we were due to travel to Monkstown in The Irish Senior Cup. I can't remember where i ended up on the Thursday night but I had to be at The Star by noon on the Friday to get the bus. I just made it and instantly cited a bad flu to explain my demeanour after arriving.
I'd say I could count on one hand the times I've drank anything the night before a game though. One occassion was when we were due to play Courceys in 2001 in the league final. It was the last weekend before Christmas and the hockey had just finished for the winter break. The girls were out and there was probably one who had pricked my interest and that was sufficient to engage me. We ended up in Redz but I was still probably in bed for three.
The game was in Kinsale the next morning at 11h30 so i hopped in the car and headed bown from Brookfield. It was a sh1tty morning; wet and windy. Perfect for blowing the cobwebs off and even better for a back who was marking the speedster David Hayes. The game went well, we won and I survived in tact. I'd injured my ankle after the South-East final so it was one of my first games back. The hangover factor was probabaly a blessing as it took my mind off the ankle.
I don't really remember any other instances where i strayed. Mentally, I just can't do it. Not even one or two. On St. Stephens Day the UCC old boys play the current XI and i wouldn't even drink on Christmas Day purely because of that. Totally over the top i know but I play sport to enjoy it and i enjoy it more when i play well. Rocking up with a hangover is one good way to try and ensure you won't do either.
It was only when I moved to Belgium and was going home to visit that I realised how many lads would be in The White Lady the night before games. I was disgusted but there ya go.
Even though the sporting realm within which I operate in Belgium will never mean as much to me or motivate me the way playing with UCC or Kinsale did, I still follow the same approach. I left work late on Friday evening and the traffic had died down. Brussels is the kind of place where everyone heads out of at the weekend and leave deserted streets behind. Still, the feeling takes hold of you as you drive down the road to Shuman roundabout and swing right past the Commission in the direction of watering holes such as The Hairy Canary and The Oak. Those wintry after work pints in the warmth of the bar. I love the thought of it but I kept on my way up Rue Franklin.
It was worth it on Saturday as FC Irlande seconds won a top of the table clash away at Pharma. I played in the holding midfield role; a negative and destructive job! Whatever about how I played, I felt good, was able to bomb around the place and thoroughly enjoyed the many pints after. The day will come for those wintry pints but for now those old habits live on.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Earning Your Stripes
This entry has been a while in the making and the fury with which it was first conceived has since subsided. Myself and Ricky were in the jacks in The Greyhound one night in August and were joined by Wardy, Brian C and maybe Peter Fitz. They are the young generation who are making their way on the Intermediate team for the last year or two. Myself and Ricky have long gone and these fellas would have only been giddy pups when we were around.
There was a bit of banter flying and then they managed to get an almighty rise out of us when they referred to us as 'Junior Footballers'. If anything were to light our fuse it was going to be these young fellas making a remark like this. We've had two very good Minor teams, of which these lads were part of, who have now come through and given new impetus to our Intermediates. However, the timing of their arrival allowed them bypass the mine field that is the Cork Junior Football Championship.
From 1997 through to 2005 we were knocking on the door but couldn't find the key. There is one major difference between the Junior and Intermediate format. The Intermediate is an open draw so you can play a team from anywhere in the County. This offers games which generally don't have the embedded local spite and so allow for more attractive, free flowing football.
However, the Junior structure is different as it is split according to the 8 geographically determined Divisions. The winners progress to the County section quarter-finals and need to win that to go up. It’s the local Divisional games which are probably the biggest hurdle to achieving success in any grade in the County. I've seen fellas blow their nose in opponent’s jerseys, spit, pull hair and do an assortment of other unsavoury things, at a fair more frequent rate than in County section games.
We had some monumental battles over the years. The '97 final went to a replay against the Courceys. I don't remember was it the first or the second game but in one, a massive brawl broke out on our sideline with subs, mentors and players swinging. I was on the bank that time and watched with amusement when, in another incident, two Courcey players lay panned out about twenty metres from eachother. The culprit, a Kinsale man, stood somewhere in between the two bodies. Local games are riddled with intensity and a deep sense of local pride. Fellas were often schooled together, grew up playing against each other and generally found themselves rubbing shoulders in The White Lady on a Saturday night. All heightens the rivalry.
In '98, a spectacular performance from Jeremy O'Donovan wasn't enough to get past Crosshaven in the final. Ricky made his debut as a minor that day, at wing-back I think. In '99 we got revenge on the Courceys in the semi-final. It was my debut and this time Ricky found himself in the forward line, just off a flight from America. We would have been hot favourites for the final against Tracton but against the run of play, Gerry Murphy had to kick a massive last gasp score. Tough tackling epitomised the occasion with Barry Gray stretchered off in the first half and spending the rest of the game lying flat out on the dressing room floor. Having overcome Muskerry champions Canovee, we were blitzed by an Ilen Rovers team, laden with Cork players, in the Semi Final. If ever confirmation of the strength of the Junior ranks in Cork was needed, the fact this team could not clear the last hurdle is it.
On to 2000 and our team was in disarray as the Courcies beat us. Controversial team selections and some fortunate goals saw us trudge out of Ballygarven having lost another Divisional final. We regrouped in 2001 though and on a red hot day in Brinny, we turned around a 0-7 to 0-1 half-time deficit to win a fantastically intense final. Ricky was centre back that day. We marched through a replay against Mitchelstown and on to a semi final against Adrigole. They were led by Cork starlet Brendan Jer O'Sullivan. Kenny marauded up and down the wing, Ricky frustrated Brendan Jer into a red card and we headed for a rematch in Bandon against Ilen Rovers. Two years on from our last meeting, Ilen still hadn't climbed the mountain. 1-04 to 0-7 at half-time; the holy grail was in sight. It was Ilen who climbed the steps and picked up the cup though. They would march through subsequent Championship campaigns and run Nemo close in a Senior final. We had to go back to a first round Divisonal clash with Ballinhassig the following May.
It’s difficult to make you understand how hard it is to get out of the Junior ranks and what a mortal blow it is when you get so close but are sent packing all the back to the beginning. We went to a replay against Ballinhassig in round 1 in 2002. They barely play any football but like nothing more than taking the scalp of the seasiders from Kinsale. We huffed and puffed back to the final. Courceys were knocked along the way but not before Gearoid Condon landed a haymaker on one of the Hayes. He got the line.
Ballygarvan in Carrigaline and another trip behind the pipe band. A poxy goal set them on the way. We were riddled with injury and running on empty. They had the momentum having won a Minor county in recent years. Driven on by Ger Spillane and brother Joe, they had too much for us. They ultimately bowed to Carbery Rangers, Ilen's successors in the Carbery Divion. Again, they were a talented outfit. Cork players Michael O'Sullivan, Kevin McMahon and John Hayes (along with his talented brothers and cousins) send the 'Garvan back to the start line.
2003 was a blow out. So many broken dreams and long roads to nowhere travelled, the tank and the mind were empty. We exited to Shamrocks in one of the worst Championship games I was ever involved in. They put three men on Gerry Murphy and we had no plan B. I sat out the 2004 season for various reasons (saving it for the book!!) and can't quite remember at which point we failed but it was the semi at latest.
Gerry Murphy had the manager's reign in 2005 and there was a freshness about the whole thing. We'd brought very little through since 2001 but the hunger was back. Something like 5 points down to Ballinhassig with ten minutes to go in the Quarter-final, we never had to dig so deep. Our goalkeeper Andy's quad went in the second half and i think Mick Sull was struggling with an injury. I was on kick-out duty and was barely finding the half-back line. Who stepped up? Ricky O'Hanlon, with his brotherly sidekick Fergal 'The Horse'. We charged on to a final in Riverstick. The pitch was heavy, the wind blowing the rain around it, all contributing to an awful game. I watched the game on DVD after and it was dire stuff but full of commitment. We snuck through.
On to play Ballyclough in the quarter-final. Led by Cork youths Colm O'Neill and Paul O'Flynn, we went to a replay before advancing. Gerry Murphy, who held himself on the line all year, came out of retirement in the County section. The pounding he was receiving in the Divisional games pushed him towards retirement in 2003. However, he was a surprise package that year in the County section and sprung himself when required. The luck was on our side that year and it was the one when, after nine gut wrenching campaigns, that we stepped up to Intermediate ranks.
You surely can't grasp the intensity with which some of those games were played. We laboured past Valley Rovers second team a couple of years, when we would have been a match for their Intermediate team. We played our best football outside the Division but those games were inevitably played in atrocious wintry conditions when an unfortunate slip could be the difference.
I intentionally focused on Ricky on a number of occasions. His versatility saw him line out in around seven or more positions through those campaigns. He was on the first Underdog team which launched Kieran Donaghy's career. He fought as much as anyone to achieve Intermediate status.
When we came back down the stairs after the banter with the young fellas we rejoined Gerry Murphy and some of the lads. His disgust matched mine as he proclaimed that fellas hadn't proved themselves by beating Courceys in a first round Intermediate Championship, instead they needed to do it in a melting pot like a South-East final. A significant comment from a man who scaled the height s when captaining Laune Rangers to an All-Ireland club in 1996.
In fairness, the young fellas were probably just winding us up to a certain extent. They are at a loss because they didn't get the experience of those character building wars on the local battlefields. If there were there, it would surely heighten their commitment to sustaining and improving on our Intermediate ranking. Without it, they must bring the momentum of underage success to the table. They are in a privileged position; one which myself and Ricky covet. They have a responsibility to do everything they can to progress things on from here. I hope they understand.
There was a bit of banter flying and then they managed to get an almighty rise out of us when they referred to us as 'Junior Footballers'. If anything were to light our fuse it was going to be these young fellas making a remark like this. We've had two very good Minor teams, of which these lads were part of, who have now come through and given new impetus to our Intermediates. However, the timing of their arrival allowed them bypass the mine field that is the Cork Junior Football Championship.
From 1997 through to 2005 we were knocking on the door but couldn't find the key. There is one major difference between the Junior and Intermediate format. The Intermediate is an open draw so you can play a team from anywhere in the County. This offers games which generally don't have the embedded local spite and so allow for more attractive, free flowing football.
However, the Junior structure is different as it is split according to the 8 geographically determined Divisions. The winners progress to the County section quarter-finals and need to win that to go up. It’s the local Divisional games which are probably the biggest hurdle to achieving success in any grade in the County. I've seen fellas blow their nose in opponent’s jerseys, spit, pull hair and do an assortment of other unsavoury things, at a fair more frequent rate than in County section games.
We had some monumental battles over the years. The '97 final went to a replay against the Courceys. I don't remember was it the first or the second game but in one, a massive brawl broke out on our sideline with subs, mentors and players swinging. I was on the bank that time and watched with amusement when, in another incident, two Courcey players lay panned out about twenty metres from eachother. The culprit, a Kinsale man, stood somewhere in between the two bodies. Local games are riddled with intensity and a deep sense of local pride. Fellas were often schooled together, grew up playing against each other and generally found themselves rubbing shoulders in The White Lady on a Saturday night. All heightens the rivalry.
In '98, a spectacular performance from Jeremy O'Donovan wasn't enough to get past Crosshaven in the final. Ricky made his debut as a minor that day, at wing-back I think. In '99 we got revenge on the Courceys in the semi-final. It was my debut and this time Ricky found himself in the forward line, just off a flight from America. We would have been hot favourites for the final against Tracton but against the run of play, Gerry Murphy had to kick a massive last gasp score. Tough tackling epitomised the occasion with Barry Gray stretchered off in the first half and spending the rest of the game lying flat out on the dressing room floor. Having overcome Muskerry champions Canovee, we were blitzed by an Ilen Rovers team, laden with Cork players, in the Semi Final. If ever confirmation of the strength of the Junior ranks in Cork was needed, the fact this team could not clear the last hurdle is it.
On to 2000 and our team was in disarray as the Courcies beat us. Controversial team selections and some fortunate goals saw us trudge out of Ballygarven having lost another Divisional final. We regrouped in 2001 though and on a red hot day in Brinny, we turned around a 0-7 to 0-1 half-time deficit to win a fantastically intense final. Ricky was centre back that day. We marched through a replay against Mitchelstown and on to a semi final against Adrigole. They were led by Cork starlet Brendan Jer O'Sullivan. Kenny marauded up and down the wing, Ricky frustrated Brendan Jer into a red card and we headed for a rematch in Bandon against Ilen Rovers. Two years on from our last meeting, Ilen still hadn't climbed the mountain. 1-04 to 0-7 at half-time; the holy grail was in sight. It was Ilen who climbed the steps and picked up the cup though. They would march through subsequent Championship campaigns and run Nemo close in a Senior final. We had to go back to a first round Divisonal clash with Ballinhassig the following May.
It’s difficult to make you understand how hard it is to get out of the Junior ranks and what a mortal blow it is when you get so close but are sent packing all the back to the beginning. We went to a replay against Ballinhassig in round 1 in 2002. They barely play any football but like nothing more than taking the scalp of the seasiders from Kinsale. We huffed and puffed back to the final. Courceys were knocked along the way but not before Gearoid Condon landed a haymaker on one of the Hayes. He got the line.
Ballygarvan in Carrigaline and another trip behind the pipe band. A poxy goal set them on the way. We were riddled with injury and running on empty. They had the momentum having won a Minor county in recent years. Driven on by Ger Spillane and brother Joe, they had too much for us. They ultimately bowed to Carbery Rangers, Ilen's successors in the Carbery Divion. Again, they were a talented outfit. Cork players Michael O'Sullivan, Kevin McMahon and John Hayes (along with his talented brothers and cousins) send the 'Garvan back to the start line.
2003 was a blow out. So many broken dreams and long roads to nowhere travelled, the tank and the mind were empty. We exited to Shamrocks in one of the worst Championship games I was ever involved in. They put three men on Gerry Murphy and we had no plan B. I sat out the 2004 season for various reasons (saving it for the book!!) and can't quite remember at which point we failed but it was the semi at latest.
Gerry Murphy had the manager's reign in 2005 and there was a freshness about the whole thing. We'd brought very little through since 2001 but the hunger was back. Something like 5 points down to Ballinhassig with ten minutes to go in the Quarter-final, we never had to dig so deep. Our goalkeeper Andy's quad went in the second half and i think Mick Sull was struggling with an injury. I was on kick-out duty and was barely finding the half-back line. Who stepped up? Ricky O'Hanlon, with his brotherly sidekick Fergal 'The Horse'. We charged on to a final in Riverstick. The pitch was heavy, the wind blowing the rain around it, all contributing to an awful game. I watched the game on DVD after and it was dire stuff but full of commitment. We snuck through.
On to play Ballyclough in the quarter-final. Led by Cork youths Colm O'Neill and Paul O'Flynn, we went to a replay before advancing. Gerry Murphy, who held himself on the line all year, came out of retirement in the County section. The pounding he was receiving in the Divisional games pushed him towards retirement in 2003. However, he was a surprise package that year in the County section and sprung himself when required. The luck was on our side that year and it was the one when, after nine gut wrenching campaigns, that we stepped up to Intermediate ranks.
You surely can't grasp the intensity with which some of those games were played. We laboured past Valley Rovers second team a couple of years, when we would have been a match for their Intermediate team. We played our best football outside the Division but those games were inevitably played in atrocious wintry conditions when an unfortunate slip could be the difference.
I intentionally focused on Ricky on a number of occasions. His versatility saw him line out in around seven or more positions through those campaigns. He was on the first Underdog team which launched Kieran Donaghy's career. He fought as much as anyone to achieve Intermediate status.
When we came back down the stairs after the banter with the young fellas we rejoined Gerry Murphy and some of the lads. His disgust matched mine as he proclaimed that fellas hadn't proved themselves by beating Courceys in a first round Intermediate Championship, instead they needed to do it in a melting pot like a South-East final. A significant comment from a man who scaled the height s when captaining Laune Rangers to an All-Ireland club in 1996.
In fairness, the young fellas were probably just winding us up to a certain extent. They are at a loss because they didn't get the experience of those character building wars on the local battlefields. If there were there, it would surely heighten their commitment to sustaining and improving on our Intermediate ranking. Without it, they must bring the momentum of underage success to the table. They are in a privileged position; one which myself and Ricky covet. They have a responsibility to do everything they can to progress things on from here. I hope they understand.
Gimmicks et al
SAQ training became a bit of a rage in the late 90's, early 00's. SAQ stands for Speed, Agility, Quickness and is considered by many to be a more appropriate alternative to old fashioned methods like laps, for improving players fitness, speed, strength etc. In the past I attended the Foundation, Level 1 and Conditioning courses with my brother and fellow Kinsale club man Gearoid Condon, under the tutelage of Jim Kilty. Whilst I was deeply suspicious that the course was more of a roadshow whereby Jim demonstrated different things using his expensive equipment with the ultimate view of boosting sales, I was still impressed.
I was first introduced to this style of training by Eddie Kirwan when he was training us in U.C.C. Alot of people were sceptical about it at the beginning, mainly because we had been so stuck in old methods. Eddie was taking the same approach with Nemo footballers and confirmed that they also had their concerns initially. When implemented properly you have very short, snappy warm ups. Dynamic stretches, short bursts of game specific movements and small sided games to prepare the body for full on training. The running aspect of training focuses on multi-dimensional sprints involving changing direction, controlling speed by quicken your stride and slowing it down and improving agility. Ladders, hurdles etc are used to improve your technique and quicken your feet.
Regular fears from players would be that because they have not gone through their regular few laps and long stretches for warm-ups that they will pull muscles. It's a change of mindset that is required. In a game you will make sharp sudden movements and your muscles need to be prepared for this. If you buy into it, you will understand that 3/4 second stretches are actually more appropriate to prepare your muscles for what they are about to do. Moving on to the fitness aspect of the training, guys need to understand that a game is made up of a serious of runs varying in length and speed. You will jog, stride, sprint, jog, stride etc. Never will you be asked to run twenty laps in a game. So, if you simulate the amount, distance etc of runs that you expect a player to make in a game, tailor your regime to meet that, then you should have a better prepared player. Of course, the whole thing can be explained much more scientifically but that is the jist of it.
During a winter of discontent back around 2003, we were left trainerless in early January. I enlisted the help of Trevor Collins, who had been a teacher in my school. Trev would be well linked into coaching through the IRFU and had all the gadgets and gizmos that accompany the SAQ model. I found the training brilliant, intense and sport specific. In that league campaign our movement was as good as I ever seen it and we racked up some massive scores. For whatever reasons, Trev wasn't around come the summer and we fell to one of our most embarrassing Championship exits on a windy day down in Crosshaven. We should have built on the early season work but didn't. Still, from training under Eddie and Trev, I was sold on its value and took the courses in parallel.
Since then, i've always tried to bring a SAQ element to training. It has been less successful in Brussels even though it was generally well receieved by the players. With FC Irlande you simply could not do it with the quantity of players involved; sometimes up to 50. You would need too much equipment and would not be able to give enough attention to fellas who were struggling with the technique. Also, you have such a turnover of players that you would be constantly trying to teach fellas and they would, by no fault of their own, disrupt to fluidity of the drill.
At the beginning of this year, we did a good bit of ladders with the G.A.A. lads. Again turnover is a problem but the consistency fellas show up is also an important factor. In my opinion, to see the improvement from SAQ, you need to be training at least twice a week on a regular basis. When fellas do get a run of it you can see the improvement in their footwork expecially. I lessened the focus as the months went on because of the reasons I just mentioned not being aligned. However, in the last week or so, to try and bring some freshness to the sessions as the long season draws to a close, I've brought back in elements of it.
My personal favourites are the breakaway belts. Positioned in a grid the size of a badminton court, both you and your parter put on nylon belts, with a velcro tag hanging out of it. A piece of nylon cord connects both of you by attaching to the velcro. One player is a defender and the other an attacker (he holds the ball). The attacker must try and break the connection by evading the defender. He can move sideways, backwards, forwards but cannot turn and run away from him. Its all about footwork. While all this is going on though, the defender is trying to slap the ball out of the attacker's hands. There is no soloing or hopping, he just has to hold the ball. We do it in thirty second bursts and it is very aggressive and very intense. The lads love it, even if a few stray slaps come their way.
Last nights session worked on speed and footwork, with a bit of handling thrown in. These drills don't exhaust the lungs but if done properly will make the muscles in the legs burn. They also tap into the mind as you need to do a bit more thinking about the requirements of the drills. Our concentration levels are generally quite poor so last night we tried to make fellas think all the time. After each bit of running we would do some different exercises to keep the brain ticking over. One involves a small ball that would fit in the palm of your hand, which has bumps sticking out of it. You throw it at the ground in front of your partner and he must catch it before it hits the ground again. The bounce of the ball is difficult to predict so you need to adjust you feet quickly and have good hand-eye coordination. It's another enjoyable drill to make the most of the 'rest' time.
I was first introduced to this style of training by Eddie Kirwan when he was training us in U.C.C. Alot of people were sceptical about it at the beginning, mainly because we had been so stuck in old methods. Eddie was taking the same approach with Nemo footballers and confirmed that they also had their concerns initially. When implemented properly you have very short, snappy warm ups. Dynamic stretches, short bursts of game specific movements and small sided games to prepare the body for full on training. The running aspect of training focuses on multi-dimensional sprints involving changing direction, controlling speed by quicken your stride and slowing it down and improving agility. Ladders, hurdles etc are used to improve your technique and quicken your feet.
Regular fears from players would be that because they have not gone through their regular few laps and long stretches for warm-ups that they will pull muscles. It's a change of mindset that is required. In a game you will make sharp sudden movements and your muscles need to be prepared for this. If you buy into it, you will understand that 3/4 second stretches are actually more appropriate to prepare your muscles for what they are about to do. Moving on to the fitness aspect of the training, guys need to understand that a game is made up of a serious of runs varying in length and speed. You will jog, stride, sprint, jog, stride etc. Never will you be asked to run twenty laps in a game. So, if you simulate the amount, distance etc of runs that you expect a player to make in a game, tailor your regime to meet that, then you should have a better prepared player. Of course, the whole thing can be explained much more scientifically but that is the jist of it.
During a winter of discontent back around 2003, we were left trainerless in early January. I enlisted the help of Trevor Collins, who had been a teacher in my school. Trev would be well linked into coaching through the IRFU and had all the gadgets and gizmos that accompany the SAQ model. I found the training brilliant, intense and sport specific. In that league campaign our movement was as good as I ever seen it and we racked up some massive scores. For whatever reasons, Trev wasn't around come the summer and we fell to one of our most embarrassing Championship exits on a windy day down in Crosshaven. We should have built on the early season work but didn't. Still, from training under Eddie and Trev, I was sold on its value and took the courses in parallel.
Since then, i've always tried to bring a SAQ element to training. It has been less successful in Brussels even though it was generally well receieved by the players. With FC Irlande you simply could not do it with the quantity of players involved; sometimes up to 50. You would need too much equipment and would not be able to give enough attention to fellas who were struggling with the technique. Also, you have such a turnover of players that you would be constantly trying to teach fellas and they would, by no fault of their own, disrupt to fluidity of the drill.
At the beginning of this year, we did a good bit of ladders with the G.A.A. lads. Again turnover is a problem but the consistency fellas show up is also an important factor. In my opinion, to see the improvement from SAQ, you need to be training at least twice a week on a regular basis. When fellas do get a run of it you can see the improvement in their footwork expecially. I lessened the focus as the months went on because of the reasons I just mentioned not being aligned. However, in the last week or so, to try and bring some freshness to the sessions as the long season draws to a close, I've brought back in elements of it.
My personal favourites are the breakaway belts. Positioned in a grid the size of a badminton court, both you and your parter put on nylon belts, with a velcro tag hanging out of it. A piece of nylon cord connects both of you by attaching to the velcro. One player is a defender and the other an attacker (he holds the ball). The attacker must try and break the connection by evading the defender. He can move sideways, backwards, forwards but cannot turn and run away from him. Its all about footwork. While all this is going on though, the defender is trying to slap the ball out of the attacker's hands. There is no soloing or hopping, he just has to hold the ball. We do it in thirty second bursts and it is very aggressive and very intense. The lads love it, even if a few stray slaps come their way.
Last nights session worked on speed and footwork, with a bit of handling thrown in. These drills don't exhaust the lungs but if done properly will make the muscles in the legs burn. They also tap into the mind as you need to do a bit more thinking about the requirements of the drills. Our concentration levels are generally quite poor so last night we tried to make fellas think all the time. After each bit of running we would do some different exercises to keep the brain ticking over. One involves a small ball that would fit in the palm of your hand, which has bumps sticking out of it. You throw it at the ground in front of your partner and he must catch it before it hits the ground again. The bounce of the ball is difficult to predict so you need to adjust you feet quickly and have good hand-eye coordination. It's another enjoyable drill to make the most of the 'rest' time.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
The Perfect Game
Most of my football days in Kinsale were spent occupying the corner back slot. Barry Gray once praised my versatility as a footballer, saying I could play in the left or the right corner!! When I was up to the age at minor I'd have played midfield. At a similar stage of my U-21 lifespan, I'd have lined out at centre back but would ultimately end up playing a 'sweeper' roll from corner back when Championship came round. My adult debut came against Ballincollig at wing forward and I slotted over a point with one of my first touches. There were other, infrequent assignments which gave me a release but my destiny lay inside a #2 or #4 geansai.
When I was coming through we must have had ten or twelve backs vying for just six slots. Kenny and Lyndon were regularly around Cork Minor, U-21 and Junior panels, Michael O'Leary captained our '98 Minor team, Ricky was an Underdog, Brian O'Connell won a Sigerson with Queens, Keohane and Mick Sull were genuine Senior footballers, Brian 'Corcoran' was a versatile animal of a defender. There were others who would have found their best position in defence too, fellas like the Buckleys and later Rich Sull, Mark Coughlan and Conor Lane. Don't let me forget Cian Quigley, Colm Mac or former Nemo stalwarth Tony Griffen. It was an unbelievable selection of backs to choose from and catering for us all was not possible, even if we were repositioned further out the field.
In that company, I was happy to sneak in anywhere and it was the right corner where it all started. Once Mick Sull joined the ranks I was moved to the left and he took #2. It was a bit bizarre as I was right footed and he was left footed. Our strongest six was probably in the County final year of 2001. Mick Sull, Lyndon and myself in the full back line, fronted by Kenny, Ricky and Keohane. We knew each other inside out after winning Minor and U-21 South-Easts in previous years.
In '05 the full back line was still intact. We complimented each other very well; Lyndon was a powerhouse, Mick Sull a calm commanding presence and then me sweeping in front and behind them. Between us we were equipped for most types of forwards and that year we were all thrown into the fire at some point. Mick Sull would become well acquainted with Vincy Hurley and Michael O'Donovan in the South-East final while I was assigned to follow Seamus Hayes around Riverstick. In the quarter-final against Ballyclough I was despatched to deal with Colm O'Neill. He was only 17 then but you could see the potential. In the semi it was Lyndon who got the honour, taking up the task of marking Fergus Murphy. I wondered about the logic in some of the assignments at times but the fact the selectors trusted us all with different jobs gave us confidence. I loved the buzz when we were all on form, beating our men and watching each others backs.
People look down on the job of corner back but my counter was always, who is the opposition’s most potent attacker? Usual it is in the most attacking line of the pitch. Look at any list of scorers on a Monday morning and they will be the ones headlining. I accepted my role and motivated myself by trying to achieve one thing; what, in my head, I called 'The Perfect Game'.
I'm not sure if I ever shared this with any of the lads before. The Perfect Game would be achieved if your man didn't touch the ball and thus didn't score or assist a score. It was more than that though. A backs job doesn't start and finish with his direct opponent. The Perfect Game idea also involved playing without fear of leaving your man to support your teammate by either showing for a pass or covering his back. You had to do everything in your job spec, not just keep your man scoreless.
I came close in 2002 against Ballinhassig in the first game and the replay. I think the lad I was on might have touched the ball once, maybe twice, the first day. The replay was similar. It was a mini obsession of mine at the time and every time I took the field my goals were centred around achieving that.
As backs, we got great advice along the way. I remember Tony Griffen telling us to race our man to the ball, Humphrey Moynihan preaching about getting a hand or a foot on it and deny the man possession. Simple things but they stroke a cord. Buckley and O’Connell brought they experiences too. Marking fells like the Humph, Farrissey and Gerry Murphy at training was invaluable also. Their movement, cuteness and devilment made you think through your game.
It's up there, where all the thinking goes on, that you need to always develop as a player. Reading the game was one of the key things for me to overcome a pace deficiency! The corner back needs to be the corner forward; watch the spaces opening up, watch the body shape of the man in possession, think out the next move before your man does. Is it going to come in high or low, is the guy on his strong foot or weak foot? If you've processed all this quickly then you don't need to be fast or strong because when the crowd’s eyes shift to follow the flight of the ball, you will be standing there, looking like the beneficiary of an act of luck. There's nothing lucky about it though. Against weaker players it will play out like that, they will kick you the ball because they can't adjust their thinking quickly enough to identify a Plan B. Against a better team though, the ball won't have been delivered because the player will quickly adjust. Either way it doesn't matter. Whether it be denying your man possession by getting to the ball first or just closing another door in the face of the ball carrier, you have done your job. What people don't understand is sometimes you don’t have to touch the ball as a corner back to have a great game, if you win the game of chess then you have also made your contribution to the team.
The lads used to rib me about never kicking the ball. I probably went months of matches only taking a few kicks. It didn't bother me though. Win possession, give it off, go again, give it off again, retreat. Keep it all very simple. I couldn't play there again I don't think. The concentration level over an hour is too high for too few touches of the ball. I was conditioned to it back then, dedicated to my obsession.
You must remember though, you can't play The Perfect Game without the contribution of those around you. I had two massive battles in Pairc Ui Rinn with O'Neill but the pressure on the ball coming in was immense and Buckley's deep lying play provided the cover. At the same venue in '02 I was at sea when James O'Shea made a right prick out of me. That night the cover was AWOL and I was cleaned out.
The corner is unforgiving. You are always one misjudged ball or slip away from a green flag. Even the greatest resistance will be broken if those around you aren't pulling their weight. Rarely will you get the acclaim that a marauding wing back or sharp shooting forward will get. That's not what corner backs want though. They are bastions of a selfless art.
If I were giving a corner back advice now I’d repeat what Tony said about racing your man to the ball. I’d tell him that you have every right to win every single ball and that should be his goal. To never stop attacking the ball, never stop believing in yourself. Don’t resort to fouling as its a degrading act to the institution. The final bit and most important; demonstrate selflessness. Sometimes you must sacrifice yourself for the team. Whether that means playing a position you don’t want or whether it means leaving your man to stop a goal but concede a point. You are an important cog, but just a cog in something bigger.
When I was coming through we must have had ten or twelve backs vying for just six slots. Kenny and Lyndon were regularly around Cork Minor, U-21 and Junior panels, Michael O'Leary captained our '98 Minor team, Ricky was an Underdog, Brian O'Connell won a Sigerson with Queens, Keohane and Mick Sull were genuine Senior footballers, Brian 'Corcoran' was a versatile animal of a defender. There were others who would have found their best position in defence too, fellas like the Buckleys and later Rich Sull, Mark Coughlan and Conor Lane. Don't let me forget Cian Quigley, Colm Mac or former Nemo stalwarth Tony Griffen. It was an unbelievable selection of backs to choose from and catering for us all was not possible, even if we were repositioned further out the field.
In that company, I was happy to sneak in anywhere and it was the right corner where it all started. Once Mick Sull joined the ranks I was moved to the left and he took #2. It was a bit bizarre as I was right footed and he was left footed. Our strongest six was probably in the County final year of 2001. Mick Sull, Lyndon and myself in the full back line, fronted by Kenny, Ricky and Keohane. We knew each other inside out after winning Minor and U-21 South-Easts in previous years.
In '05 the full back line was still intact. We complimented each other very well; Lyndon was a powerhouse, Mick Sull a calm commanding presence and then me sweeping in front and behind them. Between us we were equipped for most types of forwards and that year we were all thrown into the fire at some point. Mick Sull would become well acquainted with Vincy Hurley and Michael O'Donovan in the South-East final while I was assigned to follow Seamus Hayes around Riverstick. In the quarter-final against Ballyclough I was despatched to deal with Colm O'Neill. He was only 17 then but you could see the potential. In the semi it was Lyndon who got the honour, taking up the task of marking Fergus Murphy. I wondered about the logic in some of the assignments at times but the fact the selectors trusted us all with different jobs gave us confidence. I loved the buzz when we were all on form, beating our men and watching each others backs.
People look down on the job of corner back but my counter was always, who is the opposition’s most potent attacker? Usual it is in the most attacking line of the pitch. Look at any list of scorers on a Monday morning and they will be the ones headlining. I accepted my role and motivated myself by trying to achieve one thing; what, in my head, I called 'The Perfect Game'.
I'm not sure if I ever shared this with any of the lads before. The Perfect Game would be achieved if your man didn't touch the ball and thus didn't score or assist a score. It was more than that though. A backs job doesn't start and finish with his direct opponent. The Perfect Game idea also involved playing without fear of leaving your man to support your teammate by either showing for a pass or covering his back. You had to do everything in your job spec, not just keep your man scoreless.
I came close in 2002 against Ballinhassig in the first game and the replay. I think the lad I was on might have touched the ball once, maybe twice, the first day. The replay was similar. It was a mini obsession of mine at the time and every time I took the field my goals were centred around achieving that.
As backs, we got great advice along the way. I remember Tony Griffen telling us to race our man to the ball, Humphrey Moynihan preaching about getting a hand or a foot on it and deny the man possession. Simple things but they stroke a cord. Buckley and O’Connell brought they experiences too. Marking fells like the Humph, Farrissey and Gerry Murphy at training was invaluable also. Their movement, cuteness and devilment made you think through your game.
It's up there, where all the thinking goes on, that you need to always develop as a player. Reading the game was one of the key things for me to overcome a pace deficiency! The corner back needs to be the corner forward; watch the spaces opening up, watch the body shape of the man in possession, think out the next move before your man does. Is it going to come in high or low, is the guy on his strong foot or weak foot? If you've processed all this quickly then you don't need to be fast or strong because when the crowd’s eyes shift to follow the flight of the ball, you will be standing there, looking like the beneficiary of an act of luck. There's nothing lucky about it though. Against weaker players it will play out like that, they will kick you the ball because they can't adjust their thinking quickly enough to identify a Plan B. Against a better team though, the ball won't have been delivered because the player will quickly adjust. Either way it doesn't matter. Whether it be denying your man possession by getting to the ball first or just closing another door in the face of the ball carrier, you have done your job. What people don't understand is sometimes you don’t have to touch the ball as a corner back to have a great game, if you win the game of chess then you have also made your contribution to the team.
The lads used to rib me about never kicking the ball. I probably went months of matches only taking a few kicks. It didn't bother me though. Win possession, give it off, go again, give it off again, retreat. Keep it all very simple. I couldn't play there again I don't think. The concentration level over an hour is too high for too few touches of the ball. I was conditioned to it back then, dedicated to my obsession.
You must remember though, you can't play The Perfect Game without the contribution of those around you. I had two massive battles in Pairc Ui Rinn with O'Neill but the pressure on the ball coming in was immense and Buckley's deep lying play provided the cover. At the same venue in '02 I was at sea when James O'Shea made a right prick out of me. That night the cover was AWOL and I was cleaned out.
The corner is unforgiving. You are always one misjudged ball or slip away from a green flag. Even the greatest resistance will be broken if those around you aren't pulling their weight. Rarely will you get the acclaim that a marauding wing back or sharp shooting forward will get. That's not what corner backs want though. They are bastions of a selfless art.
If I were giving a corner back advice now I’d repeat what Tony said about racing your man to the ball. I’d tell him that you have every right to win every single ball and that should be his goal. To never stop attacking the ball, never stop believing in yourself. Don’t resort to fouling as its a degrading act to the institution. The final bit and most important; demonstrate selflessness. Sometimes you must sacrifice yourself for the team. Whether that means playing a position you don’t want or whether it means leaving your man to stop a goal but concede a point. You are an important cog, but just a cog in something bigger.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Exiles Rising
Before the All-Ireland final, the only other competitive fixture the Cork footballers lost this year was away in the league up in Monaghan. Their opponents that day moved the game way out into the country where the team bus had to negotiate the toughest driving conditions. The Rebels were greeted by a tight pitch where they could nearly feel the supporters breathing on their backs. Cork had been ambushed and went home empty handed.
Parc Cinq in Brussels is a bit like that and it was there where The Exiles Cup took place today. Our opponents Tir Chonnail Gaels, 2008 British Champions, travelled by Eurostar the morning of the game. The G.A.A. put up a trophy for the occassion and the match was officiated by Will Cashin.
However, there was work to be done before throw-in. We rent our pitch and only get the key at the designated time so there is no chance to prepare the pitch or facilities beforehand. So with the gate open we quickly assembled the posts. Rochey was sent home to get ties for the nets. Whilst all this was going out there was something happening in the middle of the field which may be as good an example as you'll ever see of what the G.A.A. is all about. We've had days of rain in Brussels and our beloved pitch showed all the signs of it. Keary and Conan weren't having it though and Conan stood, rubbish bag in hand while Keary scooped water into the bag with a butter container. Classic stuff.
Our opponents looked formidable. Rochey had been checking their website the night before and informed us they were all at least 13 or 14 stone and approaching six feet tall. We were not disappointed. As we were warming up, Aylward hobbled over to me to ensure I told the lads 'not to get caught in possession....serious, don't get caught in possession against these lads!!'.
The details of the game haven't come back to me yet so this will be brief. It was close throughout. We set about crowding out their attack and gettting quick ball forward. Eoin Sheanon benefited from his and others industry as we won and he converted a high percentage of frees. We contested the sh1tty scrappy balls and didn't let them break the line too often. Hudson and Keary had to deal with alot of difficult ball in on top of them but found good support in the form of Rochey and Dave Bourke outside them.
Midfield was crowded with myself, Johnny, Olof, Colin and Enda trying to make it hard for our opponents to find space. Our trump card turned out to be our newest player. Dave Collins was sprung from the bench towards the end of the first half and was onthe scoresheet instantly. We went in at the half 0-9 to 0-9.
The Londoners got a great boost early in the second half with a goal. It originated from an off target pass from me to Eoin. Someone fouled the recipient and from the resultant free, the ball landed in our square and eventually found the net. Dave Collins went close to goal shortly after and the teams continued to exchange points. I think Rochey may have nailed a couple, maybe Johnny too. We got right back into it then when I went someway to making up for the earlier error. Dave Collins had broke free and my sideline ball fell into his path and his finish was cool as.
Back down the other end, Cluxton tells me they got a penalty. I only vaguely remember it. He says he saved it. A boost. Our opponents were using their full panel and rotating substitutes to freshen things up. Our only other change was to bring Jim into the backs which allowed us release Hudson's energy out the field. It was in the melting pot with time up. We led by a point. It was level. Then Sheanon, from a deadball on the sideline, steered the winning score between the shticks. 1-20 2-16.
There was a good buzz after the game. It's not often we get to play proper football matches i.e. not tournament format. Those boys play every week and are a very organised bunch. Of course, we know the score, the travelled without their Seniors but still had alot of footballers in their ranks. It was a great occassion, totally unique. Such a fixture has never occurred before and if we do eventually relinquish our crown in Maastricht then at least we will have claimed this cup, on behalf of Europe, in its first outing.
On to The Oak now, and wherever the night may lead.....
Parc Cinq in Brussels is a bit like that and it was there where The Exiles Cup took place today. Our opponents Tir Chonnail Gaels, 2008 British Champions, travelled by Eurostar the morning of the game. The G.A.A. put up a trophy for the occassion and the match was officiated by Will Cashin.
However, there was work to be done before throw-in. We rent our pitch and only get the key at the designated time so there is no chance to prepare the pitch or facilities beforehand. So with the gate open we quickly assembled the posts. Rochey was sent home to get ties for the nets. Whilst all this was going out there was something happening in the middle of the field which may be as good an example as you'll ever see of what the G.A.A. is all about. We've had days of rain in Brussels and our beloved pitch showed all the signs of it. Keary and Conan weren't having it though and Conan stood, rubbish bag in hand while Keary scooped water into the bag with a butter container. Classic stuff.
Our opponents looked formidable. Rochey had been checking their website the night before and informed us they were all at least 13 or 14 stone and approaching six feet tall. We were not disappointed. As we were warming up, Aylward hobbled over to me to ensure I told the lads 'not to get caught in possession....serious, don't get caught in possession against these lads!!'.
The details of the game haven't come back to me yet so this will be brief. It was close throughout. We set about crowding out their attack and gettting quick ball forward. Eoin Sheanon benefited from his and others industry as we won and he converted a high percentage of frees. We contested the sh1tty scrappy balls and didn't let them break the line too often. Hudson and Keary had to deal with alot of difficult ball in on top of them but found good support in the form of Rochey and Dave Bourke outside them.
Midfield was crowded with myself, Johnny, Olof, Colin and Enda trying to make it hard for our opponents to find space. Our trump card turned out to be our newest player. Dave Collins was sprung from the bench towards the end of the first half and was onthe scoresheet instantly. We went in at the half 0-9 to 0-9.
The Londoners got a great boost early in the second half with a goal. It originated from an off target pass from me to Eoin. Someone fouled the recipient and from the resultant free, the ball landed in our square and eventually found the net. Dave Collins went close to goal shortly after and the teams continued to exchange points. I think Rochey may have nailed a couple, maybe Johnny too. We got right back into it then when I went someway to making up for the earlier error. Dave Collins had broke free and my sideline ball fell into his path and his finish was cool as.
Back down the other end, Cluxton tells me they got a penalty. I only vaguely remember it. He says he saved it. A boost. Our opponents were using their full panel and rotating substitutes to freshen things up. Our only other change was to bring Jim into the backs which allowed us release Hudson's energy out the field. It was in the melting pot with time up. We led by a point. It was level. Then Sheanon, from a deadball on the sideline, steered the winning score between the shticks. 1-20 2-16.
There was a good buzz after the game. It's not often we get to play proper football matches i.e. not tournament format. Those boys play every week and are a very organised bunch. Of course, we know the score, the travelled without their Seniors but still had alot of footballers in their ranks. It was a great occassion, totally unique. Such a fixture has never occurred before and if we do eventually relinquish our crown in Maastricht then at least we will have claimed this cup, on behalf of Europe, in its first outing.
On to The Oak now, and wherever the night may lead.....
Friday, October 9, 2009
Europe v Britain
One of the things we felt necessary to get the football off the ground here was to provide as many games as possible to the players. With this in mind we have tried hard to get teams to visit Brussels and so far Peregrines of Dublin, Clare Island and Coventry's Roger Casements have all crossed the sea to mainland Europe. Conan takes the lead with this and I spend more time trying to dampen his enthusiasm then encouraging it. If he had his way we'd be lining up against the likes of Donegal on a regular basis. Some of the things he dreams up are particularly off the wall.
The best to date was The Exiles Cup; pitting the 2008 European Champions against the 2008 British Champions Tir Chonnail Gaels. Its over six months in the mixer but tomorrow the Irish Ambassodor Brian Nason will throw the ball in between the two teams in Parc Cinq at 13h.
It's a unique occasion, the first time something like this has ever been played. The challenge facing us is massive with the G.A.A. in the UK at a far more advanced stage then in Europe. Playing numbers are incomparable and are growing rapidly across the channel as the emigration again takes a grip of our island. I'd expect this to be the toughest game we have played to date. The British Champions will be seasoned G.A.A. men, hard, fast, physical and street wise. It will be a great test for everyone. Whilst some of the stars of the 2008 campaign have moved on, we have a strong panel tomorrow so will give it a good lash.
There's also a date for our ladies who will take on London's Tara G.F.C in The Channel Cup. One fixture which had to be cancelled this morning was the Brussels Cup which was due to be played between our Hurlers and Dublin's Setanta. However, tragedy struck their club when a young daughter of one of their players passed away yesterday. It puts it all in perspective and are best wishes go the family.
The best to date was The Exiles Cup; pitting the 2008 European Champions against the 2008 British Champions Tir Chonnail Gaels. Its over six months in the mixer but tomorrow the Irish Ambassodor Brian Nason will throw the ball in between the two teams in Parc Cinq at 13h.
It's a unique occasion, the first time something like this has ever been played. The challenge facing us is massive with the G.A.A. in the UK at a far more advanced stage then in Europe. Playing numbers are incomparable and are growing rapidly across the channel as the emigration again takes a grip of our island. I'd expect this to be the toughest game we have played to date. The British Champions will be seasoned G.A.A. men, hard, fast, physical and street wise. It will be a great test for everyone. Whilst some of the stars of the 2008 campaign have moved on, we have a strong panel tomorrow so will give it a good lash.
There's also a date for our ladies who will take on London's Tara G.F.C in The Channel Cup. One fixture which had to be cancelled this morning was the Brussels Cup which was due to be played between our Hurlers and Dublin's Setanta. However, tragedy struck their club when a young daughter of one of their players passed away yesterday. It puts it all in perspective and are best wishes go the family.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Rennes Out Of Luck
Where to start? The beginning, the middle or the end? Depending on what slant you take on it, then it could be any of the three. We had set up camp at the far end goal before the final and it was there where we had to retreat when referee Tony Bass blew his whistle for the final time last Saturday. The Parisians, deserving winners, ran to congratulate eachother. After exchanging handshakes we trudged, heads hanging heavy on dreary frames, back to base. I was one of the last down there and was taken back a little by the genuine disappointment on fellas faces. The silence unbroken. No corridors or dressing room walls to conceal it. I doubted all year whether fellas cared enough and whatever went on prior to Rennes, they certainly gave everything on Saturday.
Friday
After a quick bite to eat at mine, myself and Alan headed to Zaventem to grab Emmett. Emmett had been a doubt up until the week before having told Alan he was unlikley to travel. He'd said not to say anything but Alan tipped me off that he was due to talk to me at training the following Monday. Now Emmett and his wife Lisa have had a baby girl this year and he has used up alot of his credits for the G.A.A. already. However, he is also a very important driving force for our team; the type of wing back that makes you mark him. Training was cancelled on the Monday so I took the chance to get the retaliation in first and massaged his ego with a lovely little text. He was onto Alan promptly and the deal was sealed. Thanks to a very generous wife Lisa Byrne for indulging him.
With the three of us loaded up we set off to race the Friday traffic West. First challenge was to the get the GPS lady to take us north towards the Normandy bridge or South towards Paris. We managed to get her to redirect us north. Loaded with water though, we managed about three pit stops in the first two hours. Still, the plan was solid and only a diversion caused us delay as we ate road down. We landed at the hotel around 20h30. Having had a bad accommodation/drinking experience in Rennes last year we were not arriving with smiley faces. However, everything was spot on. The hotel was ideally located, across from a car park with lots of restaurants and bars in the square.
The lady on reception was a fantastic advertisement for the French nation. Long dark hair, an engaging smile and eyes staring out at us that made us clamber for support to stay upright. We peppered her with questions to try and keep her attention for as long as possible. Ultimately though, the stomachs were rumbling so we had to move on. With McDonalds vetoed we settled on a little frenchy diner type spot. It had something for everyone, which meant pizza for me. I should have known better. Who serves a Margherita with a raw egg in the middle and covered in pesto. Rennes was falling quickly after its early gain.
I was rooming with Colin Byrne. This didn't go well in Copenhagen as I discovered his habit of snoring. This time he brought he plugs though, so at least he couldn't hear himself. I tossed and turned but in fairness, got a reasonable night sleep.
Saturday
For once, we had a late start (11am) so there was no early alarm or rushing around. Having the cars was handy too as we didn't have to fart around with metros and buses and all that craic. The A's were first up against Rennes. They were fit, strong and full of energy but we knew we would have more football. I won't elaborate on our tactics due to the audience which this blog is now reportedly reaching. However, I can say that to my amazement, we actually followed some pattern of play for the first time since we started this little escapade. We were trying to move the ball quickly without using too much energy. One man never seems to grasp this though. I mentioned Emmett's importance to us earlier and he started in his usual fashion, bombing up and down the pitch. I must have told him three or four times to cool the jets. He was mad eager though given he hadn't played for a while. His day came to an abrupt halt when he chased down a nothing ball and went over on his ankle. His face told the story and he sits at home this week, foot up and in a cast. It was a cruel blow to him and to the team.
We ploughed on though and build up a sufficient lead to rotate most of the team for the second period. This allowed Rennes back into it but the lads kept the attacks at bay and we secured a reasonably comfortable win. Hough and Sheanon had done well in attack while debutant Dave Bourke showed well at the back.
The B's took on Liffre in the next game and ran up a big score. I'm never the best on the details but the game was notable for a number of things. Firstly, Armagh man Paul Hagan notched a cracking 1-1. Then there was Ollie. He had a bet on with Sheanon. €10 for every point Ollie scored, €1 for everyone Sheanon scored. Needless to say, Ollie's first goal was greeted with joyous celebrations and a restrained pitch invasion. Other notable mentions to Rennes native Matti and Alan who won alot of ball.
With Paris having beaten Lux, it effectively made our game against Lux a semi-final. Lux aren't the force they were in recent years but still possess enough Corkmen in their ranks to make them a difficult opponent. Aylward came in for Emmett and I went wing forward, in a swap with Johnny O who went midfield. To win we needed to get a hold of midfield and Giller and Johnny managed that. Myself and Colin Byrne got on a good bit of ball which kept the supply lines into Hough and Eoin alive. At the back Paul Quinn attacked every ball with a tigerish abandon. In front of him Dave Bourke was growing in stature with every possession whilst Keary did his dirty work out of the limelight as per usual. It was a goal from Hough that gave us breathing space and it proved enough.
The B's faced up to Jersey in their second group game and found the going tough. Willie was solid in goal for them and Ruairi, Johnny and Matti were involved in some good movements up the field. It remains a big challenge to compete against other clubs A teams, especially when we are missing so many in the first place.
The final group game for the A's was against Paris, which would be the same pairing as for the final. They had a huge panel and it was a stick up for us wearing out the bodies. It was a good chance to rotate the squad and give as many B's a run as possible. Whilst it’s hard to say there was intent in any of it, some of the tackling was clumsy. It resulted in Paul Quinn getting split and Cluxton, now at wing forward, getting a finger in the eye. We quickly called for reinforcements and withdrew the remaining A's. Credit to the full panel for getting through this game.
By virtue of some elaborate maths, the B's ended up in a semi-final against Jersey. It was more competitive this time as Ollie's scoring brought him closer to the €50 mark. Despite the difficulties, the B's never give up and wise old heads like Denzer are great men to keep going when the tide is against you (this would be from playing with FC Irlande 4ths for years!). Jersey went on to win the Shield so there is so consolation in that.
In Copenhagen, Paris beat us for the first time in five attempts. They got a big lead with the wind and we ran out of time in our quest to claw them back. I felt we were a better team than them up there but the score line didn't back me up. They have a strong sense of purpose about them this year and you can see in the way they behave during the day. I didn't recognise some of their lads in Rennes and from early round games, they looked to have picked up a few handy lads.
Victory would catapult us right back into the reckoning, defeat would leave us relying on a delicate combination of results in Maastricht to see us retain the crown. So the message was simple; stick to the plan, leave it all out on the pitch & do everything you can to make sure in an hour’s time we are still in a position to retain the Championship.
We started with great purpose, flowing forward but our early raids were characterised by balls flying everywhere except over the bar. We came within a whisker of a goal when I pumped a long ball over the head of Hough's marker. He had little space to play with though as he pulled it down just inside the end line. Another chance gone. Paris looked dangerous themselves and whilst they kicked wides under pressure, they also kicked three points to our one in the first half.
We were well in it at this stage, matching our opponents in each sector except finishing. There was little to be said at half time. Fellas effort was good, the heads were right, it was just a case of adjusting the radar. We exchanged early points in the second half and got within one. At this stage i gathered the ball moving towards the left corner went for an effort from distance. Too far for the left, i hit is with the outside of the right. Radar was on but i didn't give it enough. I dropped 4 or 5 balls into the keepers hands on the day, mortal sin.
It was around this point when Paris took over. Every pass they seemed to hit was on the money whilst ours were always just a yard or so off. Within five minutes they struck for two goals. Whilst they came from great passes, lack of marking and tracking by ourselves were a contributing factor. When teams in Paris situation get to this point they are hard to stop. Their energy levels seem to go to another level, their believe grows with every passing passage of play. We've been there, seen it, recognised it; which makes it all the harder when it plays out in front of you. There were no complaints when the final whistle went and I had no qualms about shaking their hand and congratulating them. The team we had on the pitch gave everything they had and there is no shame in defeat when you can say that.
There were many positives to be taken from the day. Clux was outstanding in the final making a couple of great saves and steering his kick-outs well. Keary is edging back towards full fitness. Aylward showed great drive when called upon, as did Paul. Dave Bourke is a great find, a tough defender with a good brain. Johnny O and Colin Byrne had their best tournaments yet and combined well around the middle with All-Island Champions Olof. Hough (a fantastically gifted footballer who makes those around him look good!!) and Sheanon worked well. Maybe we didn't give Hough his share, maybe we should have started Sheanon on the left where the free he would have earned would have favoured a right footer. There were things we could have done but we were running a tight ship so the room to manoeuvre was not so great.
With us wallowing in our sorrows we were not such a supportive force to the B's as they took on Liffre in the 3/4 place playoff. At this point, our lads were bait, many having played nearly 5 games. The French were full of energy and were not to be contained. A season best 4th for the B's and a 2nd for the A's was the story the final tables told. No glory but no shame either.
This blog is five days late so to keep it someway relevant I will summarise the other key points;
The Gladies; They won again. Maybe one of the more satisfying as they too were missing an abundance of players and came from behind in the final to win. Great saves by Clare, a penalty from Laura, tenacious defending by Steph and marauding play by the sisterly duo of Mide and Cuba. Of course they were backboned by Cork woman Sylvia.
Joe McDonagh; The former President of the G.A.A. was on official duty in Rennes at the weekend. He is everything I would imagine of a former/current G.A.A. President. A man of the people. He talked with myself and Keary for ages about players, GAA issues and Junior football matches. Keary was more coherent then I was at that stage. His patience was admirable.
Girlfriends; Alex Ferguson talked last week about how he liked his players to settle down early in life. Hopefully this is what is happening Sheanon. He mentioned his girlfriend four times in one sentence last week. He's not back to his best yet, but he is on the way.
Paris' New Zealand connection; She was one of the girls who distracted me when I was in goal back in April in Paris. I think she may be the blogs biggest fan and insisted on being mentioned. Here you are...
Saturday night drinking; France and myself will never fall in love. I don't like Kronenburg, I don't like French toilets, I don't like French taximen......We got home around 3am.
Sunday
Alan manned the wheel. It was Colin's first experience. He blessed himself more then once but he had us in The Hairy for 18h30. We were joined by Jane, Sylvia, Olof, Clare and Colin. Olof pinned each of the girls up against the wall. Only Sylvia tilted her head. The banter ended at mine around midnight.
The end.
Friday
After a quick bite to eat at mine, myself and Alan headed to Zaventem to grab Emmett. Emmett had been a doubt up until the week before having told Alan he was unlikley to travel. He'd said not to say anything but Alan tipped me off that he was due to talk to me at training the following Monday. Now Emmett and his wife Lisa have had a baby girl this year and he has used up alot of his credits for the G.A.A. already. However, he is also a very important driving force for our team; the type of wing back that makes you mark him. Training was cancelled on the Monday so I took the chance to get the retaliation in first and massaged his ego with a lovely little text. He was onto Alan promptly and the deal was sealed. Thanks to a very generous wife Lisa Byrne for indulging him.
With the three of us loaded up we set off to race the Friday traffic West. First challenge was to the get the GPS lady to take us north towards the Normandy bridge or South towards Paris. We managed to get her to redirect us north. Loaded with water though, we managed about three pit stops in the first two hours. Still, the plan was solid and only a diversion caused us delay as we ate road down. We landed at the hotel around 20h30. Having had a bad accommodation/drinking experience in Rennes last year we were not arriving with smiley faces. However, everything was spot on. The hotel was ideally located, across from a car park with lots of restaurants and bars in the square.
The lady on reception was a fantastic advertisement for the French nation. Long dark hair, an engaging smile and eyes staring out at us that made us clamber for support to stay upright. We peppered her with questions to try and keep her attention for as long as possible. Ultimately though, the stomachs were rumbling so we had to move on. With McDonalds vetoed we settled on a little frenchy diner type spot. It had something for everyone, which meant pizza for me. I should have known better. Who serves a Margherita with a raw egg in the middle and covered in pesto. Rennes was falling quickly after its early gain.
I was rooming with Colin Byrne. This didn't go well in Copenhagen as I discovered his habit of snoring. This time he brought he plugs though, so at least he couldn't hear himself. I tossed and turned but in fairness, got a reasonable night sleep.
Saturday
For once, we had a late start (11am) so there was no early alarm or rushing around. Having the cars was handy too as we didn't have to fart around with metros and buses and all that craic. The A's were first up against Rennes. They were fit, strong and full of energy but we knew we would have more football. I won't elaborate on our tactics due to the audience which this blog is now reportedly reaching. However, I can say that to my amazement, we actually followed some pattern of play for the first time since we started this little escapade. We were trying to move the ball quickly without using too much energy. One man never seems to grasp this though. I mentioned Emmett's importance to us earlier and he started in his usual fashion, bombing up and down the pitch. I must have told him three or four times to cool the jets. He was mad eager though given he hadn't played for a while. His day came to an abrupt halt when he chased down a nothing ball and went over on his ankle. His face told the story and he sits at home this week, foot up and in a cast. It was a cruel blow to him and to the team.
We ploughed on though and build up a sufficient lead to rotate most of the team for the second period. This allowed Rennes back into it but the lads kept the attacks at bay and we secured a reasonably comfortable win. Hough and Sheanon had done well in attack while debutant Dave Bourke showed well at the back.
The B's took on Liffre in the next game and ran up a big score. I'm never the best on the details but the game was notable for a number of things. Firstly, Armagh man Paul Hagan notched a cracking 1-1. Then there was Ollie. He had a bet on with Sheanon. €10 for every point Ollie scored, €1 for everyone Sheanon scored. Needless to say, Ollie's first goal was greeted with joyous celebrations and a restrained pitch invasion. Other notable mentions to Rennes native Matti and Alan who won alot of ball.
With Paris having beaten Lux, it effectively made our game against Lux a semi-final. Lux aren't the force they were in recent years but still possess enough Corkmen in their ranks to make them a difficult opponent. Aylward came in for Emmett and I went wing forward, in a swap with Johnny O who went midfield. To win we needed to get a hold of midfield and Giller and Johnny managed that. Myself and Colin Byrne got on a good bit of ball which kept the supply lines into Hough and Eoin alive. At the back Paul Quinn attacked every ball with a tigerish abandon. In front of him Dave Bourke was growing in stature with every possession whilst Keary did his dirty work out of the limelight as per usual. It was a goal from Hough that gave us breathing space and it proved enough.
The B's faced up to Jersey in their second group game and found the going tough. Willie was solid in goal for them and Ruairi, Johnny and Matti were involved in some good movements up the field. It remains a big challenge to compete against other clubs A teams, especially when we are missing so many in the first place.
The final group game for the A's was against Paris, which would be the same pairing as for the final. They had a huge panel and it was a stick up for us wearing out the bodies. It was a good chance to rotate the squad and give as many B's a run as possible. Whilst it’s hard to say there was intent in any of it, some of the tackling was clumsy. It resulted in Paul Quinn getting split and Cluxton, now at wing forward, getting a finger in the eye. We quickly called for reinforcements and withdrew the remaining A's. Credit to the full panel for getting through this game.
By virtue of some elaborate maths, the B's ended up in a semi-final against Jersey. It was more competitive this time as Ollie's scoring brought him closer to the €50 mark. Despite the difficulties, the B's never give up and wise old heads like Denzer are great men to keep going when the tide is against you (this would be from playing with FC Irlande 4ths for years!). Jersey went on to win the Shield so there is so consolation in that.
In Copenhagen, Paris beat us for the first time in five attempts. They got a big lead with the wind and we ran out of time in our quest to claw them back. I felt we were a better team than them up there but the score line didn't back me up. They have a strong sense of purpose about them this year and you can see in the way they behave during the day. I didn't recognise some of their lads in Rennes and from early round games, they looked to have picked up a few handy lads.
Victory would catapult us right back into the reckoning, defeat would leave us relying on a delicate combination of results in Maastricht to see us retain the crown. So the message was simple; stick to the plan, leave it all out on the pitch & do everything you can to make sure in an hour’s time we are still in a position to retain the Championship.
We started with great purpose, flowing forward but our early raids were characterised by balls flying everywhere except over the bar. We came within a whisker of a goal when I pumped a long ball over the head of Hough's marker. He had little space to play with though as he pulled it down just inside the end line. Another chance gone. Paris looked dangerous themselves and whilst they kicked wides under pressure, they also kicked three points to our one in the first half.
We were well in it at this stage, matching our opponents in each sector except finishing. There was little to be said at half time. Fellas effort was good, the heads were right, it was just a case of adjusting the radar. We exchanged early points in the second half and got within one. At this stage i gathered the ball moving towards the left corner went for an effort from distance. Too far for the left, i hit is with the outside of the right. Radar was on but i didn't give it enough. I dropped 4 or 5 balls into the keepers hands on the day, mortal sin.
It was around this point when Paris took over. Every pass they seemed to hit was on the money whilst ours were always just a yard or so off. Within five minutes they struck for two goals. Whilst they came from great passes, lack of marking and tracking by ourselves were a contributing factor. When teams in Paris situation get to this point they are hard to stop. Their energy levels seem to go to another level, their believe grows with every passing passage of play. We've been there, seen it, recognised it; which makes it all the harder when it plays out in front of you. There were no complaints when the final whistle went and I had no qualms about shaking their hand and congratulating them. The team we had on the pitch gave everything they had and there is no shame in defeat when you can say that.
There were many positives to be taken from the day. Clux was outstanding in the final making a couple of great saves and steering his kick-outs well. Keary is edging back towards full fitness. Aylward showed great drive when called upon, as did Paul. Dave Bourke is a great find, a tough defender with a good brain. Johnny O and Colin Byrne had their best tournaments yet and combined well around the middle with All-Island Champions Olof. Hough (a fantastically gifted footballer who makes those around him look good!!) and Sheanon worked well. Maybe we didn't give Hough his share, maybe we should have started Sheanon on the left where the free he would have earned would have favoured a right footer. There were things we could have done but we were running a tight ship so the room to manoeuvre was not so great.
With us wallowing in our sorrows we were not such a supportive force to the B's as they took on Liffre in the 3/4 place playoff. At this point, our lads were bait, many having played nearly 5 games. The French were full of energy and were not to be contained. A season best 4th for the B's and a 2nd for the A's was the story the final tables told. No glory but no shame either.
This blog is five days late so to keep it someway relevant I will summarise the other key points;
The Gladies; They won again. Maybe one of the more satisfying as they too were missing an abundance of players and came from behind in the final to win. Great saves by Clare, a penalty from Laura, tenacious defending by Steph and marauding play by the sisterly duo of Mide and Cuba. Of course they were backboned by Cork woman Sylvia.
Joe McDonagh; The former President of the G.A.A. was on official duty in Rennes at the weekend. He is everything I would imagine of a former/current G.A.A. President. A man of the people. He talked with myself and Keary for ages about players, GAA issues and Junior football matches. Keary was more coherent then I was at that stage. His patience was admirable.
Girlfriends; Alex Ferguson talked last week about how he liked his players to settle down early in life. Hopefully this is what is happening Sheanon. He mentioned his girlfriend four times in one sentence last week. He's not back to his best yet, but he is on the way.
Paris' New Zealand connection; She was one of the girls who distracted me when I was in goal back in April in Paris. I think she may be the blogs biggest fan and insisted on being mentioned. Here you are...
Saturday night drinking; France and myself will never fall in love. I don't like Kronenburg, I don't like French toilets, I don't like French taximen......We got home around 3am.
Sunday
Alan manned the wheel. It was Colin's first experience. He blessed himself more then once but he had us in The Hairy for 18h30. We were joined by Jane, Sylvia, Olof, Clare and Colin. Olof pinned each of the girls up against the wall. Only Sylvia tilted her head. The banter ended at mine around midnight.
The end.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Win or Bust
"We're headed towards Los Angeles. Toward what else in the days, perhaps weeks, ahead, I cannot begin to predict. Will this team unify, will it demonstrate the sacrifice, the selflessness, that all championship squads display? Will it fulfill the expectations that started in July? Or will it fall short, the fissures, never far below the surface, proving too deep to overcome? Will it go down as the grand experiment that failed, remembered more for the trials then triumphs? The plane is about to land, the next part of the journey about to begin."
Phil Jackson, L.A. Lakers Head Coach, 2004
We're not the L.A. Lakers but there is something in that quote that we can relate to. European elections, Lisbon, financial crisis, business travel, working late, transport, money, girls, babies, marriage, long distance relationships, injuries, illness, personality clashes, laziness, egos, broken promises, penalty misses, disciplinary issues, arrivals, departures......We have had above and beyond our share of all of these this year. Way back in an earlier blog I predicted this year was going to be very tough after the highs of last year. I didn't envisage it being this tough.
During the summer I started to think about what I was getting out of this. My body was crocked and my motivation to go down and take training 2/3 times a week was waning. Obviously, my involvement is focused on winning, not just being a good gaa disciple and trying to spread the good word and teach people our games. Hence the deep frustration and annoyance with how the season was panning out. For large chunks of the year it was a struggle to motivate myself to go down; my body crocked and my mind failing to be stimulated. I couldn't muster up the feeling to deliver any meaningful messages to the players at either training or tournaments.
A few weeks ago, my mood started to change. Slowly the back has begun to settle down and being able to participate in training brought a new dimension to things for me. Then there was the night where we had a competitive edge to the runs with Giller, myself and Keary locked in battle. Lately, we've played full pitch games at training. The tackling has become stronger, the movement more fluid. The sun is still shining but the dark sweeps through Parc 50 with greater speed then we've seen all summer. For me the start and the finish of the journey are the most satisfying.
The journey commences in a hall or on a dark wintry pitch way back in January. Those nights are full of anticipation and pain. I love the combination. You move to the next phase. Summer is summer. Different obstacles will be put in your way and each needs to be cleared. The hurdles lessen as the nights start to close in again. The finish line and its prize are in view. You are gripped by a growing hunger to win. Your season starts to hang in the balance as you train on a week to week basis, never sure of when the journey could finish.
There are no more second chances now. In a couple of hours our players will pile into cars and drive anywhere up to 9 hours, battling Friday traffic, on their way to Rennes. The problems I have listed above are still all over the panel and are visible in the list of lads who won't make the journey. We will still put men on the pitch who are committed to winning and that's enough for me. This is why we play the game. Micky Keane was an unlikely hero last year, sprung from the bench to kick the winning score in the final, in Rennes, against Paris. We'll need more heroes this weekend and if we find them then who knows...The next part of the journey is about to begin..
Phil Jackson, L.A. Lakers Head Coach, 2004
We're not the L.A. Lakers but there is something in that quote that we can relate to. European elections, Lisbon, financial crisis, business travel, working late, transport, money, girls, babies, marriage, long distance relationships, injuries, illness, personality clashes, laziness, egos, broken promises, penalty misses, disciplinary issues, arrivals, departures......We have had above and beyond our share of all of these this year. Way back in an earlier blog I predicted this year was going to be very tough after the highs of last year. I didn't envisage it being this tough.
During the summer I started to think about what I was getting out of this. My body was crocked and my motivation to go down and take training 2/3 times a week was waning. Obviously, my involvement is focused on winning, not just being a good gaa disciple and trying to spread the good word and teach people our games. Hence the deep frustration and annoyance with how the season was panning out. For large chunks of the year it was a struggle to motivate myself to go down; my body crocked and my mind failing to be stimulated. I couldn't muster up the feeling to deliver any meaningful messages to the players at either training or tournaments.
A few weeks ago, my mood started to change. Slowly the back has begun to settle down and being able to participate in training brought a new dimension to things for me. Then there was the night where we had a competitive edge to the runs with Giller, myself and Keary locked in battle. Lately, we've played full pitch games at training. The tackling has become stronger, the movement more fluid. The sun is still shining but the dark sweeps through Parc 50 with greater speed then we've seen all summer. For me the start and the finish of the journey are the most satisfying.
The journey commences in a hall or on a dark wintry pitch way back in January. Those nights are full of anticipation and pain. I love the combination. You move to the next phase. Summer is summer. Different obstacles will be put in your way and each needs to be cleared. The hurdles lessen as the nights start to close in again. The finish line and its prize are in view. You are gripped by a growing hunger to win. Your season starts to hang in the balance as you train on a week to week basis, never sure of when the journey could finish.
There are no more second chances now. In a couple of hours our players will pile into cars and drive anywhere up to 9 hours, battling Friday traffic, on their way to Rennes. The problems I have listed above are still all over the panel and are visible in the list of lads who won't make the journey. We will still put men on the pitch who are committed to winning and that's enough for me. This is why we play the game. Micky Keane was an unlikely hero last year, sprung from the bench to kick the winning score in the final, in Rennes, against Paris. We'll need more heroes this weekend and if we find them then who knows...The next part of the journey is about to begin..
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