Five Years On!

September 1, 2005. A new chapter started for me as I flew Cork-London-Brussels and landed in a business flat in Evere, a commune of Brussels, to take up my job in Toyota. Leaving Cork wasn't anywhere near being on my agenda and I certainly wasn't a candidate for a move abroad. Opportunity knocks sometimes though and you have to run with it.

Two days after arriving I was on my way back home for the South-East Hurling final. Various things went against me and I never even made it to the game, never mind my position in goal. The lads lost by a point or two but would bounce back in '07 to win it. The following few months were still ruled by Kinsale G.A.A. as I returned to see out the football season most weekends. I went home every conceivable way, trains to Amsterdam, London, Paris, flights to/from Charleroi, Dublin, Cork, rented cars and late night road trips. There were Monday's when i'd dose off at meetings I was so bait from it.

Erins Own put an end to that when they put us to a sword in the Country semi-final in Buttevant. Whilst most of the lads headed back to Kinsale, myself, Conor, Micheal and a few other Dublin based lads faced the car north and headed to Dublin. We forced a pint down over dinner in TGI Fridays but the stomach couldn't take any more so it was home to bed before taking the red-eye back to Brussels on Monday morning. A bitterly disappointing ending.

Today I complete my fifth year of what was originally a 3-5 year stint in my head. Jesus, how time rattles on. I've very little to complain about now but it goes without saying that you'd miss the family and the G.A.A. My parents have returned from a stint in Vienna since I moved here and my niece Zuwena got three new brothers. You'd miss the daily contacts, the kind of hidden support network they provide and just their presence.

The other pillar of my ‘former live was obviously the G.A.A. That encompasses not just participation in the sports but also it means all my friends too. They have always gone hand in hand really as I spend so much time playing and thinking about it that I don't have time for friends who do not share that interest!

A couple of things really stick about playing for your club. One is the jersey. In my ideal world, I'd only ever have gone into battle wearing one club jersey and that would have been the blue and white hoops of Kinsale. If I was living in Galway, Dublin or anywhere south of that line then I'd never have strayed. Even if there was a Brussels-Cork flight, I'd probably be spending all my money going home to play. A club jersey holds so much history in it; your family and friends' history, the stories of all the ups and down of the club and the blood and sweat which has been spilled in its cause.

Championship is the final thing. Dad always said it was different but it's only as you get older you appreciate the do or die nature of it. Everything you do up in the pitch and even off it boils down to the sixty minutes. The build up weeks before, the whole town talking about it, the anticipation, the nerves and then the first ball coming racing at you and your marker. There can be few adrenaline rushes to match it.

When I was home a couple of weeks ago, I went to see CIT play Bishopstown in the SHC. James Murphy, a Bishopstown lad who spent 1.5yrs here, was playing so it pricked my interest. On the way up I started to remember how it felt. You'd be thinking how much you'd like another crack off it when you'd be watching the warm-ups and then when the players take the field, the national anthem is played and the ball is thrown in.

I remember the painful days more than the joyous ones; Fermoy in the Minor in '98, Valley Rovers in the Hurling in '01 when I let a ball slip through my hands and we lost by a point. Ilen Rovers in the County Final. Emotional days; days when even an Irish man does what an Irish man doesn't do. Maybe Kieran McGenney made it acceptable when he ran his hand across his face on Sunday though. It all ended for me on that day in Buttevant. I could barely look at my brother or my uncle as we made our way from the pitch through the narrow passage and into the dressing room.

Life rattles on and we've been lucky to be here in a time when Belgium G.A.A. has exploded. I know if I were at home, I'd have more frustration than enjoyment from it. I'd be arguing with the old school and giving out to the players for drinking and doing the bollocks. They'd probably have run me out of the place by now!!!

The coming months will see us travel to Munich, Budapest, London and Maastricht whilst welcoming teams from London and Birmingham to Brussels. I never imagined a schedule like that would be possible when I moved here back in '05. Sometimes you have to give up the search for what you can't have though and accept and enjoy what you do have. There's still that South-East hurling medal to be won though, time is ticking.