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sport CONTENTS Murphy’s Law Darragh O’Donoghue talks to Geordan Murphy about everything that could go wrong, going wrong................................................pg 76 The man behind the Mic Órla Sheils interviews Mícheál Ó Muircheartaigh....................pg 85 Snow Patrol Lauren Crothers meets Ireland’s snowboarding stars............pg 89
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The Irish 50-yard line
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Sam Monson dons the pads as the American Game touches down in Ireland
n a crisp Sunday afternoon, a lone figure breaks the stillness on the open grass. Pushing his charge, leaving a white chalk line in his wake, it’s hard to imagine that this signals the coming of the storm – America’s Game is about to be set loose on the Emerald Isle. From one end of the field come the first few players, the scout party signalling the approach of the battalions following behind. They walk slowly, carrying their helmets and pads by their sides, each in his own quiet state, preparing for the cacophony of impending violence. Dark clouds remain unmoved in the afternoon sky, a hanging sword of Damocles forever threatening to break its tether and release the rain, adding yet more water to an already muddy field. The next three hours of crunching impact and fevered strategising
signals the beginning of the Irish American Football League (IAFL) season, in which nine teams will strive to outwit, out-muscle, and dominate their opposition in the chase for the Shamrock Bowl. This is American Football, Irish-style. The game of American football has been taking hold around the world for some time now. Over the last 50 years it has become America’s favourite sport, and now the NFL is trying to push it overseas. Just last season the NFL held its first regular season game outside North America, when the New York Giants met the Miami Dolphins in Wembley Stadium. The NFL is becoming a global brand, and Irish fans are jumping on board. American football always had a small following in Ireland and the UK, dating back to the days when Channel 4 would show late night
games and highlight packages of the NFL in the 1980s. This strong core of fans never went away, even through the television dark ages, and was ultimately rewarded when BSkyB gained the rights to NFL TV coverage and began to broadcast live games on Sunday nights. Now they can watch three live games each Sunday, another on Monday nights, and even more, late in the season when Thursday games begin. The NFL fan has never had so much direct access to the game, and it is only going to improve as the NFL strives to promote the game abroad. The Wembley game has already become a fixture on the NFL calendar, with a commitment from the league for a further three years. Now Irish fans can see a game live without planning a transatlantic voyage, needing only to place their lives in the hands of Ryanair for the
“Every man is involved, covered in mud, and sporting the beginnings of tomorrow’s bruises”
even if given the chance. Now anybody with the time and inclination can sign up, suit up and start dishing out some pain. The game itself is one of inclusion. Between hulking offensive or defensive linemen and slight but speedy wide receivers or cornerbacks, the game caters for all shapes and sizes. If you have the desire, you’ll find a place on a team. Every man is involved, covered in mud, and sporting the beginnings of tomorrow’s bruises. Every man spends his Sunday as part of a team, united in a
common cause, and will be back to do it all over again next week. And so the two teams of mudstained warriors, one wearing smiles that only victory can create, the other bearing the heavy burden of defeat on their shoulders, meet in the middle of what was once a field of grass to shake hands, and congratulate each other on a battle well fought. The pitch, hours after being marked off with chalk lines, is now a stretch of mud-soaked wasteland, the aftermath of the battle waged on its surface. That battle has been won, and now the players exit in the same direction from which they came, half with a spring in their step, already regaling each other with their personal glories from the game, the other half, with slow, laboured steps. They’ll be back next week. Another chance at victory in the IAFL. Another chance to be the side wearing smiles as well as mud. This is football, Irish-style. samuel.monson@gmail.com
Photos by Gary Fox
short flight to London. While the game is an institution in America, it is only just beginning to take hold in Ireland. The IAFL was founded in 1984, as the first wave of American Football hit Europe, and has experienced both ups and downs in its 24-year history. But it has found itself experiencing something of a resurgence recently, with more and more young people wanting to try to play the game they’ve become addicted via television coverage. What these new players will find when they join one of the sides in the IAFL is a team brought together by a passion for a game that gives you a set of pads and tells you to go out and hit people. The cost to players is pain, money, and a weekly commitment to training and games, but the payoff is a share of the team spirit, and getting to go out on a weekly basis to play a game that most people never have the opportunity to play. In the past, American Football was a game played in a distant land by athletes distilled in a system geared to producing bigger, faster and stronger professional players. It was a game played by people nobody could ever expect to compete with,
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Flash Geordan Darragh O’Donoghue talks to Geordan Murphy and learns that, should new Ireland manager Declan Kidney find no space in his line-up for him, Murphy has a lucrative career in PR ahead of him
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capable of changing a game with a flash of sublime skill, and an undroppable asset to the Irish team. To others, he’s a lightweight luxury who’s flattered to deceive far too often to be trusted. Unfortunately for him, former coach Eddie O’Sullivan subscribed to the latter theory, which has resulted in an infuriatingly stop-start career. Being dropped more often than acid at Woodstock must have had its effect on a player renowned for his fragility, so how does he feel about being this generation’s Mick Galwey? “Well, I’m just shocked to be compared to Mick Galwey,” he chuckles. “That’s never happened before! It was a very tough situation to be in though. I’ll openly admit that I wasn’t happy when I was out of the team, but you can’t hold it against anyone. That’s not being a team player.” This last utterance is a clear indication of Murphy’s
Photos by Paul Walsh
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eordan Murphy is a player who divides opinion like few others. To some, he is one of the most dangerous attacking full-backs in the world,
professionalism. Whatever people’s views of his skill on the field, off the field he has conducted himself with admirable dignity. As it transpired, throughout the recent World Cup and Six Nations campaign Murphy became a bit of a cause celebre for those looking to attack Eddie O’Sullivan. As the ill-fated Irish coach’s stock dropped rapidly, his well-publicised mistrust of his mercurial bench-warmer was viewed as a microcosm of his failings. So with the conservative O’Sullivan now a victim of the team’s poor form, could the advent of a new coach signal a new beginning for the laid-back enigma? “No, I don’t think I can look at it like that,” he grimaces. “It’s just as possible that I’ll be in a similar position where I have to prove
someone wrong, there’s no certainty that it’s going to be some utopian ‘new beginning’. “You don’t know what the new coach is going to be looking for, and I’m not gonna play forever, probably only for another two or three years, truth be told. “I certainly think I have something to offer, but we’ll just have to wait and see.” Cautious self-deprecation aside, it’s easy to imagine he permitted himself a smile when the news broke of O’Sullivan’s demise. He strenuously denies this, however. “Nah, I would never take pleasure in someone else’s misfortune like that. I wasn’t sitting at home with my pipe and slippers laughing, if that’s what you mean! Any coach is gonna have it difficult, and it was a very tough situation to be in. He’s trying to do the best job he can for the team and for the country, and if you don’t agree with his call then you’ve just got to take it on the chin.” This stoic determination has served him well, and his single-minded approach is evident in his attitude to the protracted search for a new head man, which recently culminated in the appointment of Declan Kidney. “I didn’t pay a huge amount of attention to it to be honest. It’s not really up to the players, we don’t get a say in who comes in. I just hoped that the new coach would have room for me in their plans! As a player, that’s your primary focus.” The laid-back air is genuine, but he couldn’t possibly have been that blasé about the appointment. With a bit of encouragement, he opens up on the subject a little more. “Ideally, you want the new boss to be a good guy who will have good ideas, to be someone you can learn from. I’d heard Declan Kidney mentioned and I think he’s a fantastic coach. I’ve worked with him and we’ve got on well. As I said, it’s not really up to me, I’ve just got to keep playing and hope for the best, but I’m happy with how things have worked out.” With the IRFU in charge of the appointment, the rugby public’s main concern was not so much whether the blazers could appoint the right man, but whether they’d
“Nah, I would never take pleasure in someone else’s misfortune like that. I wasn’t sitting at home in my pipe and slippers laughing, if that’s what you’re thinking!” avoid burning down their offices while sending the email proposing him. With the protests over the Eddie O’Sullivan debacle still ringing in their ears (the Irish coach was awarded a fresh four year contract mere months before the sacking), they considered adopting a more cautious approach with the new man. Rumours were circulated that the men in charge could appoint the new coach on a caretaker basis, which many thought would be a disastrous move. Not so Murphy, however, who trusts the Union to do a good job. “Well, if they’d set their sights on someone who wasn’t immediately available then I think it would have made sense to appoint a caretaker,” Murphy argues. Contrary to the prevailing opinion, Murphy is happy that the IRFU are
handling things well. “It’s not all doom and gloom like some people would have you believe,” he reassures us. “The provinces are doing very well at the moment. They have a lot of talented players, and there are a lot of good youngsters coming through.” With Munster and Leinster in particular looking overseas for their new recruits though, fault lines are emerging. Many of the new generation of stars are struggling to establish themselves, but entirely home grown teams are not viable, especially taking into account the financial imperatives of performing in Europe. As an Irish squad member playing abroad, Murphy is as rare as a Leinster fan in Limerick. This also gives him a unique perspective on the situation, so does he feel the new man needs to cast this local bias aside? “Well, I don’t know what kind of footing overseas players are being considered on at the moment,” he says, diplomatically. “Obviously the new coach coming in will need to decide that. But definitely I think that if young talented players aren’t getting enough game time for the provinces, then the most important thing for them is to be playing first team rugby. “I think they should be allowed go and play wherever that is possible, whether that be keeping it Irish based by sending them over to London Irish and seeing if they can get a game there, or opening it up and letting them play in the Premiership or with other Magners League sides. I think that would definitely strengthen Irish rugby.” The interview ends with a wink and a handshake, as the jovial Murphy fields some light-hearted questions about his upcoming marriage to fiancée Lucy Silva. Any fears? “Nah, none!” So when’s the date? “Some time next summer.” During the Lions Tour? “Ah, a bit early for that kind of talk I think!” At least if Declan Kidney doesn’t like what he sees, a lucrative career in PR beckons. darragh_o_d@hotmail.com
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Ciarán Masterson looks on as the world debates the morality of denying Oscar Pistorius a shot at gold
scar Pistorius is nothing short the 400m. of a phenomenon. ‘The fastest His first international able-bodied man on no legs’– as he has race was in Rome in July 2007. The been termed by the media – has IAAF had invited him to take part in been causing a bit of a stir on the order to assess whether he should be athletics track over the past year. eligible for their competitions. He But events off the track which have came second in a 400m race which overshadowed his efforts as a shortled to him partaking in another distance runner. On January 14th event in Sheffield. In wet conditions 2008, the International Association he finished last in the 400m and of Athletics Federations (IAAF), the afterwards was disqualified for international running out of his lane. After “You're not finishing however, he was governing body of athletics, ruled that treated to thunderous applause disabled by by Pistorius was the spectators. ineligible for the disabilities Pistorius’ prosthetic legs, competition – known as Cheetahs, were you have, you developed by Icelandic denying him an appearance at the are able by the company Össur. They consist of Olympic Games. The a j-shaped blade made from abilities you carbon fibre. The dispute arose International Olympic Committee over whether his artificial limbs have” did not intervene. give him a technical advantage Pistorius doesn’t fit over other competitors in ablethe picture of your average sprinter. bodied contests. The IAAF allowed His legs were amputated when he him to run in a few initial was just 11 months old, as he was international events so they could born without the fibula in his lower gauge this scientifically. legs. This wasn’t enough to stop the The body maintains that a scientific South African, and he played investigation proves that Pistorius numerous sports throughout his life has an unfair advantage. The study, before turning to athletics in 2004. conducted by a Professor Gert-Peter He runs on artificial prosthetic limbs Brueggemann in cooperation with carefully crafted for his sport. Pistorius, found that the double At just 21 he holds Paralympic amputee could run on 25 per cent records in 100m, 200m and 400m less energy while running at the events in the T44 class. In his first same speed as other runners. year as a track runner he took gold Össur claim that more tests need to in the 200m and also won bronze in be done, yet no one has disproved
Brueggemann’s findings. The IAAF also stated that Pistorius would be more susceptible to falling over during a race and if this were to happen he would impede other runners on the track. In devising the new rule they stated that if they allowed Pistorius to run then what is to stop all athletes using carbon fibre technology in their shoes, adding a greater spring to their step. The IAAF has been accused of discrimination on the basis that Pistorius doesn’t have all the physical attributes normally associated with a sprinter. The accusers claim that the IAAF doesn’t want to be perceived as having a ‘freak’ in some of their most popular events. The IAAF, on the other hand, states that it is a question of ethics. If they allow someone with prosthetic limbs to compete, would all athletes would look to technical aids to enhance their speed? Pistorius is not likely to give up on the Olympic dream. The man who refuses to park in disabled spaces lives by the motto: ‘You’re not disabled by the disabilities you have, you are able by the abilities you have.’ In any case, the conundrum of trying to establish fair competition without excluding people looks set to be an issue for years to come. cjmasters86@yahoo.co.uk
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Photos by Gary Fox
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Darragh O’Donoghue talks to the lads from Off the Ball about the growth of the Newstalk sports programme, fear of talking on the radio and whether Jack Charlton was truly a master tactician Go to the Newstalk website, and the first thing that confronts you is a banner advertising Off the Ball. Lower your gaze slightly, and there’s an image of Maradona in full flight, beside a link which takes you to a whole section dedicated to the show. It may seem strange that a national radio station would see fit to elevate a sports programme to a position of such priority, but once you’ve heard the show itself in full swing it becomes clear. There’s simply nothing else
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like it on Irish radio, and in a sports-mad country, that’s worth its weight in gold. While nearly every station has its own sports shows, none have had the courage to devote three hours a night, every weeknight, to something that many would see as a trivial pursuit. Newstalk’s gamble has paid off handsomely however, with Off the Ball scooping the gong for best sports programme at last year’s Radio Awards, helping propel Newstalk itself to the National Station of the Year bauble. Since its inception in 2002 the show has gone from strength to strength, and much of this success can be attributed to the quality of its presenters. With Ger Gilroy having left in 2006, Eoin McDevitt took the
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reins, and it’s been a seamless transition. The chemistry between McDevitt and the rest of the team is evident on the airwaves, and equally obvious in person. “I came here originally on a placement from DCU, where I did my Masters, so it’s actually my first proper full-time job,” he says. “It’s not really even a proper job,” pipes up Ciaran Murphy, Newstalk’s ‘in-house anti-depressant’. McDevitt, Murphy and Ken Early, the laconic football presenter, form the nucleus of the show. “Ken’s a bit more ‘worldly’ than us,” jokes Murphy. “He’s been here since ground zero.” Early used to work for Intrade before joining Newstalk in 2002. “Have you heard of Betfair?” he asks. “Well that’s what Intrade was meant to be. I was working at the desk across from Ger Gilroy, so when Intrade folded, I took an intense interest in the job he was about to take!” Newstalk took Gilroy on to do a two-hour sports programme, and the rest is history. “It was very different to what it is now though,” Early recalls. “Its current format dates from about 2005/6.” The show became so popular it was expanded from two to three hours. Obviously, filling 15 hours a week is quite a challenge. “Yeah, it’s difficult,” admits Murphy. “But we enjoy it.” “Some weeks are easier than others,” adds McDevitt. “It’s got its positives, in that you can give items the coverage you feel they deserve, but it does feel a bit ludicrous at times. In July, for instance, we have the Championship, but there’s nothing else going on and we can’t do three hours on the Championship! So let’s just say some of the items appearing on the football show at that time might not be of the required standard!” Despite the relaxed nature of the show, it is very tightly planned. “Mark Horgan, the producer, has got the
task of structuring the show. We’ll always have the first hour sorted, but there are times when a story might have dropped late, and the lads could be scrounging to put something together for between 8pm and 9pm,” says McDevitt. “Eoin’s the top of the swan, and me, Simon [Hick, their reporter] and Ken are the legs kicking furiously,” adds Murphy. “The job satisfaction can be fleeting too. We might have a great show where we nail a load of brilliant features and it’s like ‘nice one lads, well done’, then you get up in the morning and have to do it all again.” Things have gotten easier over the years though, as word of the show has spread. Regular guests like John Giles, Graham Hunter and Gerry Thornley have helped raise the show’s profile to the point where people outside the country will be familiar with it, despite not having access to Newstalk. “We often get a good reaction when we get in touch with people,” says Murphy. “We might ring up a GAA player and they’ll be like ‘Ah jaysus, I love the show, you lads are great craic!’. But then they could come on the show and be no craic at all.” “People can freeze up quite easily,” notes Early. “It’s difficult to do if you’re not used to it.” “It’s a weird situation all right, being brought into a studio full of people you don’t know and being asked questions,” Murphy agrees. “It’s a lot easier to ask questions than answer them. Any time I’ve been on a program other than Off the Ball I’ve felt completely out of my depth!” They are confident though, despite the self-deprecation. Early’s view that “it’s all opinion, nobody knows for sure” could be the key to the show.
Charlton. But not knowing anything about football didn’t stop him from being a pretty good football manager.” Perhaps Charlton
intentionally cultivates this persona though? Surely this ignorance is a smokescreen. “Hmmm, I’m not sure,” says McDevitt. “I’ve interviewed him, and I think that ignorance is pretty genuine! He was telling me how he came up with his long ball tactics, and he was describing how he saw the Spanish ‘hoofing it up to the big lad up top’. I was thinking to myself, ‘he must mean Salinas’. I gave him a minute. ‘The big lad up front...’ Cue a long pause. ‘The big Spanish lad...’ Another pause. ‘Salinas! The lad Salinas!’ He went on quite a few rambling rants after that, so I don’t think Jack is feigning anything!” The show’s popularity would clearly indicate that they are attracting listeners who wouldn’t normally listen to sports radio. Fans of talk shows can find something to relate to and enjoy in the banter that flows between the presenters and guests. “I think Ken’s style on the football show has fed into the
first two hours,” Murphy muses. “I’d go so far as to call it ‘irreverent’ ,” laughs Early. “Listen, it’s just sport. There’s no point getting too pompous about it.” McDevitt is keen to stress that they do occasionally use the format to tackle some important issues, however. “We try not to limit ourselves, an interesting story is an interesting story. It doesn’t have to be ‘who’s playing right back for whoever’, we cover a range, whether it’s drugs in sport or race relations. A couple of years ago for example, we covered a story from Duke University in North Carolina, where the college lacrosse team, who were mostly white, were accused of raping some black strippers at a party. They were totally cleared in the end, and it was a lot heavier than what we normally cover, but we thought it was very
interesting, highlighting racial tensions in a combustible area. That wasn’t about sport, but we thought it was worthwhile. On the other hand, we also do features like the all-time bow-legged footballing XI, or the three players with the tightest shorts in the GAA!” “Obviously we’re all incredibly well-read young men, this is just our oeuvre,” says Murphy. So, what does the future hold for Off the Ball? “Well, we’re Newstalk employees,” they deadpan. “We’ve signed a contract and we’re perfectly happy for now. Of course RTÉ is a great organisation…” “What we’re doing now offers us great levels of freedom to do what we want to do,” says Murphy. “You’d be doing well to find a better gig.” darragh_o_d@hotmail.com
Pictures by Gary Fox
“There’s no right or wrong in sport,” says McDevitt. “If you’re a fan with an opinion, then let’s hear it. When I’m talking to John Giles I don’t mind challenging him on something if I don’t agree with what he’s saying. If you genuinely feel differently, then you’ve gotta push it a bit.” “At the same time, you don’t wanna be Jeremy Paxman: ‘Well, interesting you should say that John, because we have a tape from 2005...’,” jokes Murphy. “Ken’s hand is stamped though, he’s had a week’s trial at Marseille. He’s gained entry to the gilded temple!” Ken’s amused protestations are immediately shouted down by the others. “Now come on Ken, it mightn’t have been a formal trial, but you were down there, and they liked the look of you. You were in the Stade Velodrome with Chrissy Waddle, you nutmegged Basile Boli…” – “not a man you want to mess with,” chuckles Early. Despite the light-hearted attitude, their respect for their guests is clear. Any questioning of John Giles, “our all-time hero” as McDevitt puts it, is met with fierce resistance. “His job is to speak articulately about the game,” argues Early, “and he does it better than most. He’s not supposed to know each and every thing about every player. It’s just Championship Manager-playing teenagers who care about that. I mean what did Jack Charlton say about Trapattoni: ‘I’ve never heard of Giovanni Trapattoni.’ He was a brilliant player when Jack Charlton was playing, he won 10 league titles with Juventus when Liam Brady was playing under
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And in the green The fall and rise and fall. Kevin Byrne asks if Irish boxing is on the rise again, or punching above its weight
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ive sport on Irish television has generally tended to revolve around ball games. RTÉ and their competitors can usually be relied on to provide plenty of GAA, soccer and rugby action for the sports fan. Recently, however, boxing seems to be grabbing its chance as a headliner in its own right. The trend can be traced back to Bernard Dunne. Sure, he’s much maligned after his horrendous first round knock out at the hands of Spaniard Kiko Martinez last year, but in getting that far, Dunne had been at the forefront of what has been labeled ‘the Irish revival’. Ireland had two world champions in the 1990s in Wayne McCullough and Steve Collins. But after they lost their belts, the domestic professional scene went into serious meltdown. There were no shows. Most fighters emigrated. The public was uninterested. But boxing has come back in a big way. Dunne made his Dublin debut in 2005 after a spell in America and his reputation quickly grew. His fight nights became genuine events. But he fell victim to the hype machine. His opponent on August 26th 2007 was viewed as just a stepping stone on the way to a world title fight, someone for Dunne to be cautious of but nonetheless expected to dispatch. He said in advance of the bout: “I try not to think too much about a world title because I have to concentrate on Martinez but I know
I’m not too far away from it and I’m ready to fight any of the world champions.” What happened next serves as a cautionary tale for all Irish fighters. Just 86 seconds into the fight, Dunne was reeling and his European title was resting on another man’s hip – his own dreams shattered as he was left to contemplate what might have been. On the same night, Limerick’s Andy Lee easily accounted for Ciaran
Healy. Lee was Ireland’s sole Olympian in 2004, a product of the much-vaunted High Performance Unit which has yielded decent success for Irish amateur punchers at European level. Here was a fighter to restore confidence, and a little romance. Ireland is, after all, noted for the brawlers and fighters we have produced. But it is a while since a true Irish-born champion emerged who could capture the world’s attention. Lee looked like (and could yet be) the man to take up that mantle. He has it all: ability, size, style. Indeed his career path thus far has been encouraging. He turned pro after the Athens Olympic Games in 2004 and one day got a call most fighters could only dream of – it was Emanuel Stewart on the other end of the line inviting him to move to Detroit to become a member of the famous Kronk gym. Stewart’s fame in the boxing world is widespread. He has trained Lennox Lewis, Larry Holmes and Thomas Hearns to name but a few, and his seal of approval says a lot for Lee. His progress under Stewart was acknowledged throughout the boxing world, but it was another Irishman who was lined up for a shot at the title. Derry’s John Duddy was the man presented with the golden opportunity – a shot at the middleweight champion of the world, the rampant Kelly Pavlik. Duddy came to prominence in
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Boxing clever: Dunne, Lee and Duddy
America. There, he was the darling if I prepare 100 per cent of Irish-America and a regular physically and mentally, arena-filler. There is a perception he the chances of getting hurt gets hit too often, but his supporters are low. But yes; it could point to his warrior-like qualities. In happen. And if it does, I'll America, he utilised whatever he just have to say, ‘Well, it could to get ahead. happened.’ If I was “One of the things we do is hit a thinking about getting hurt, lorry tyre with a sledgehammer for I wouldn’t be a boxer.” 20 minutes at the end of each The fight turned out to be training session. Boxers like Jack anything but routine. Dempsey and Muhammad Ali used Duddy essentially blew his to chop wood in their training chance, despite winning the camps. But if you start cutting down fight. He suffered cuts to his eyes trees in New York City, they’re going which were so bad that he would to put you in jail.” require months to heal -- taking him Duddy followed in Dunne’s out of May’s planned showdown. footsteps and came back, and was Suddenly the focus shifted to Lee. soon topping bills in Ireland to Pavlik still needed an opponent and enthusiastic, sell-out crowds. His Lee’s manager Stewart was confident toughest bout came against his fighter was up to it. The hype was British/Caribbean war-horse Harold spreading again. Pavlik’s last two Eastman, but Duddy was judged to fights were against another Stewart have shaded the contest and was protege, Jermain Taylor. Pavlik took ready to move on to bigger things. his title in an epic, brutal encounter, Then came the news and proceeded to “Boxers like Irish fans had been beat him again in a waiting to hear. Duddy Dempsey and Ali non-title rematch in was being lined up for a the early spring. used to chop wood For Stewart to be title fight. Getting the honour of facing a touting Lee so freely, in their training before champion competitively he had come implies two things. camps. But if you up against Firstly, that you have meaningful box office appeal in the start cutting down opposition, looked United States. Secondly, trees in New York silly at best – that you have ability. irresponsible at City, they’re going worst. John Duddy had both. Andy Lee still had work Besides, Lee had to to put you in jail” first to do to catch up. get past another Word was that Pavlik’s routine fight with an representatives were going to attend American named Brian Vera, who Duddy’s seemingly routine clash had been introduced to the world of with Walid Smichet in Madison pro boxing by the reality TV show Square Garden, as the Derry man The Contender. returned to his adopted home of Again, the seemingly routine went New York. horribly wrong for one of Ireland’s Duddy said in 2006: “I tell myself, best prospects. Lee was up on points
in the seventh round in Connecticut, but then disaster struck. The referee moved in and halted the bout just after Lee had landed a big left hand. Lee was bleeding badly from a cut on the side of his right eye, and had been seriously hurt in the round by a series of right hands from Vera. Just as Lee looked to have recovered, his fight was over. His unbeaten, unblemished record was gone. Such a record for a fighter is invaluable as a marketing ploy and can be used to gain attention where it matters most. Encouragingly, there are signs that the trio of fighters are bloodied but unbowed. Dunne has since beaten ex-World Champion Felix Machado on a judges’ decision in Castlebar, and looked to have made a good recovery from his earlier trampling. Duddy is thought to be looking at a return in the late summer, although his status as a contender is diminished. Lee is said to be desperate for a rematch with his conqueror Vera, who seems poised to grant him one. The reality check is complete, but still hopes are alive: boxing fans can dream again. bopmasterkev@gmail.com
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The Perfect Formula W
Seamus O’Neill heralds a new, more exciting era for the greatest motorsport championship
ith the 2008 Formula 1 season well under way the championship is going to be one of the toughest to win. Up until 2004 the sport was dominated by one man, Michael Schumacher. While Schumacher’s success in the sport helped popularise it in Germany, worldwide this wasn’t the case. His dominance in Formula 1 racing from 2000 to 2004 made the sport appear dull as no one could compete against him and global viewing figures suffered as a result. The number of Irish Formula 1 fans has also decreased, in the most part due to the lack of any direct Irish interest in the sport. Since both Eddie Jordan and Eddie Irvine left the sport there is no Irish connection and no home talent to cheer on – something vital in any sport. With RTE’s coverage of grand prix a thing of the past, Irish viewers have had to turn to Setanta Sports and ITV for their Formula 1 fix. Fortunately for the sport, global figures are starting to in–crease again as the championship has
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taken on new teams and rules, all in a bid to make it more challenging, open and transparent. Huge sponsorship deals are a necessity for a team to survive. In May the Super Aguri team had to bow out of the champioship after running into financial problems. The team first entered Formula 1 back in 2006. However according to team boss and founder Aguri Suzuki: “The breach of contract by the promised partner SS United Oil & Gas Company resulted in the loss of financial backing and immediately put the team into financial difficulties.” Technically it is a sport where precision and timing is everything. From the choice of tyres, to the amount of fuel onboard, to the design of the car. Everything is carefully considered to shave fractions of seconds off laptimes. Converting this technical knowledge into understandable terms for the ordinary viewer is a hard task. Yet it is a sport that is loved because it takes the passive viewer away from the mundane and transports them into the front seat of a sport that is full of thrills and spills. There are claims that the sport has turned its back
on its traditional home in Europe as president and CEO of Formula 1 Management, Bernie Ecclestone, continues to set up grand prix races in such locations as Bahrain, Malaysia and Singapore, all in an effort to appeal to a wider audience. Despite all this the sport is finding its feet again. Among all the problems and criticism it has faced since the turn of the century it has managed to produce a varied championship so far this year, with young talented drivers such as last season’s winner Kimi Raikkonen, Lewis Hamilton and Felippe Massa all winning races in the early part of the season. Hot on their heels and keeping them under immense pressure are 2006 champion Fernando Alonso, Nick Heidfield, Robert Kubica and Heikki Kovalainen. Unlike the past ten years, the 2008 championship is anyone’s for the taking. This is what is attracting viewers back to the sport and exciting them once more. Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines and let the love affair consume you all over again. seamusoneillpr13@yahoo.com
The League’s Extraordinary Gentleman
Órla Sheils uncovers the legend behind the voice
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icheál Ó Muircheartaigh doesn’t like to be rushed. Everything he does, he does with precision, whether it is moving back his chair to sit down or pouring the milk into his coffee. It is difficult to imagine that this is the man we hear hardly drawing a breath as he excitedly commentates the gaelic football and hurling matches for the nation on RTÉ radio.
Photo by Órla Sheils
He sits comfortably in his chair, crosses his legs and assumes the position of somebody about to tell a long story. “It was more about luck than anything else,” he says slowly as he remembers the start of his broadcasting career. He was studying to be a teacher in St Patrick’s teaching college in Drumcondra when he saw a notice advertising auditions for an Irish commentator for Radio Eireann in Croke Park. As part of the trials, he was expected to commentate on a hurling match; the only problem was Ó Muircheartaigh had never seen a hurling match. As chance would have it, he knew one of the goalkeepers, Tadhg Hurley, and told the judges all about Tadgh and his family. This is perhaps the essence behind his success, and something which he acknowledges himself. To be a sports broadcaster, an interest in people is an essential component:
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“You have to have an interest in the characters of the players and get to know them. I think if you do, you tend to be fairer to them and you understand them.”
Of course, an interest in sport is also crucial. Ó’Muircheartaigh says “if you are interested you will always be researching, you will always be seeking information, even for yourself, and this becomes part of your work. That is why I always say what I do is not work.”
A commentator since 1949, he has seen many memorable games but his best gaelic football moment was when Donegal won the All Ireland in 1992: “Nobody gave them a chance and they won it, I can still feel the joy they felt.” He also remembers Clare’s hurling victory in 1995: “that was the first time they had won since 1914; there was nobody alive who had seen them win before.”
As a Kerry man he is proud of his county’s record of 35 All-Ireland titles. This year, he thinks the competition will be between Kerry and Dublin. “Dublin have been very good, they have won many Leinster titles but they haven’t made anything of it,” he says. “They need a few players that when the game is there to be won, stand up and even surprise themselves by what they do.” As of yet he doesn’t think they have got any players of that category.
“In a way, what I would love to see is a team that hasn’t won in ages. I think it helps the whole game.” He admits however that it will be hard to beat Kerry this year. “There is something in the makeup of the Kerry players,” he says. “It might be the tradition but they have the ability when January comes to write off the previous year. They’re starting afresh with the attitude that nobody has won the next one yet and we have as good a chance as any.”
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He agrees grudgingly that the Kerry supporters might be too complacent about winning. “There is a saying in Kerry when we are in the All-Ireland semi-final ‘ah sure we’ll wait for the final.’” But he says this is simply
because the Kerry people have the longest to travel to Croke Park: “It’s a costly adventure.”
For hurling, he says this year it could be Kilkenny, Tipperary, Galway or Waterford. But if he was “put to it” he would say it will be Kilkenny. Although he says he would like to see Waterford win: “They have been very good over the last five years and they’re decent people and fine hurlers.” With Ó Muircheartaigh, it would seem, the sport is inseparable from the people. To him, the GAA is all about the community: “It was always very much a community thing, and any time you provide for the community, it is an investment.” He commends the fact that the GAA is an amateur
admits “you must always be open to change, and if there was enough demand for it and if you can get over the problems it brings on then maybe it might happen.”
He describes the GAA as having a “development mentality” and being “progressive”, and as result “Croke Park is the finest stadium in the world.” This is one of the reasons why he supports rugby and soccer being played there. “I agreed with it from the beginning, it’s a fine stadium and it’s worth seeing, with rugby and soccer being played there it can be seen all over the world on television.” On a more practical level, he adds: “Business people will always say utilise your assets.”
After 59 years in broadcasting, a job he describes as a “privilege”, it is “Always be interested difficult for him to choose his best in the players, don’t player of all time. Eventually, he decides on DJ Carey for hurling and forget them the minute he is torn between Kerry’s Mick O’Connell and Galway’s Seán the match is over, you Purcell for football. On the players should look on them as he has commentated on over the he says that as a broadcaster someone you are likely years, you should “always be interested in the players. Don’t forget them the to meet again” minute the match is over, you association as any profit made is put should look on them as someone you back into it. This is one of the are likely to meet again.” Finally he reasons he is against the sport says that in sports commentating, as turning professional as he questions in everything else, “there are two where the necessary money would sides to every story and you have a come from. More importantly duty to know as much as you can however he says that “the GAA about the two sides. The more teams are members of the information you have, the greater community and the community hold the chance the listener has of being them as their own. The loyalty to satisfied.” your own community is a big factor. But I think professional players Micheál Ó Muircheartaigh would become detached and loyalty isn’t talk for a long time if given the the same.” chance, another characteristic which is probably necessary for a career in Ó Muircheartaigh would also worry his chosen field. His soft Kerry about players after their sporting accent and his tendency to careers are finished. “Its no problem sporadically break into an Irish for the likes of rugby’s Brian phrase lend a musical quality to his O’Driscoll with his profile,” he says. tone. “The country is full of sports But for the GAA player, he feels, commentators these days, thank things might not be quite so god,” he says amiably. But at the age favourable. At present, he says, “the of 78, one can’t help feeling that Ó GAA player still has his career and Muircheartaigh is still in a league of his profile helps his career his own. enormously.” He feels that osheils@hotmail.com community life would lose a lot, but
College Games
Hurler Wille O’Dwyer of Kilkenny and footballer Aidan Kilcoyne speak to Kevin Byrne about their experiences playing GAA for college, and the benefits of the scholarship scheme they’re enrolled in
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Photo by Gary Fox
IT had an eventful – but bad goals in the first half and they possible of their skills. ultimately disappointing – were six points up at the interval. We O'Dwyer said: “At this age, you just year in Gaelic games. The crowded them for the second half but love playing the game, any college teams in hurling and football there was just very little opportunity opportunity you can. But I can see in broke records, however, in their to get a goal. It just wasn’t to be ways alright that managers in some respective marches towards the latter unfortunately.” clubs and counties, that they don’t stages of the Sigerson Cup (football) He added: “We had a very good team respect the players enough, you know. and the Fitzgibbon Cup (hurling). this year, but were sort of unlucky That they want them training and The footballers made it to the semi- with injuries. We lost Paul Brogan part of their set-up. But to get the finals of the Sigerson Cup, and this with injury and Cian Ward was most out of the player, you have to looks to be the perfect springboard for struggling too. We beat DCU, we beat respect him a little bit more and that a decent run of success. This season's UCC after a battle, and we were doesn't happen in a lot of cases.” team contained several inter-county confident going into the game. They Kilcoyne added: “There is a need for players – most notably Dublin's Mark would have been hot favourites but it communication between the Vaughan, Meath's Cian Ward managers, but if you’re and Mayo forward Aidan training on a Monday Kilcoyne. with a minor team and a The hurling team enjoyed a Tuesday with Under-21 degree of success as well – and Wednesday with competing in the Fitzgibbon your club, that’s a bit too Cup where they reached the much but that is up to quarter-final. They came up the managers talking.” against a rampant Waterford IT Both men are lucky team, however, who put three enough to attend college goals and 15 points past them. on scholarships – this O'Dwyer was philosophical helps them continue to about the DIT hurling team’s play at a high level. Both fortunes this year. He said: “We men agree that between hadn't a great year I suppose. college and training, they Last year we got to the do not have time for a Fitzgibbon semi-final and the job. Their nights off league semi too, but this year we usually involve extra had a young team. We lost about work in the gym, or a six or seven so that’s a big lump. much needed rest. The guys are good, there’s a lot of “The scholarship I was lucky enough to get and Kilcoyne said: “The Dublin Under-21s and minors, it helps out. Other than that, you try and make scholarship I was lucky but it just takes a while to blend the money you earn in the summer go as far as enough to get and it helps possible” them in and get used to it. At 24 I out. Other than that, you am seen as an older member of try and make the money the team. We'll have a good team next just didn’t work out.” you earn in the summer go as far as year.” As players at third level, both men possible.” And Kilcoyne was honest in his could be playing for several teams. Mature electrical engineering verdict of the football team. They DIT is just one, and they turn out for student O’Dwyer added: “I got a were knocked out in the semi-final by their counties and clubs as well. But mature student grant as well. Even at Ulster University Jordanstown – who the issue of player burnout is quickly that it's very hard to find the time to went on to lose in the final to Garda dismissed – the lads reckon it is do odd jobs, so I’m grateful for it.” College. He said: “Probably on the day mainly a lie. They do admit that they were better than us, but the young players are the most scoreline was misleading. It wasn’t an vulnerable, because managers think eight point game. We gave them two they can take as much advantage as bopmasterkev@gmail.com
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Bundoran Surfer by Patrick Clarke
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I
f the delicious, powdery crunch of snow underfoot is something the average Irish person is not accustomed to, then the roar of a crowd as you plough through a finish line on your snowboard is even less familiar. But for 26-year-olds Jen Grace and Tim Russell, all of this is becoming about as common as a delayed DART is to the average Dublin commuter.
Jen is actually American – but she rides her snowboard under the Irish flag. She has honed her love for snowboarding by focusing on racing, a discipline that saw her going for, but narrowly missing out on, a Winter Olympic qualification in 2006. Tim is a freestyle snowboarder who hails from Derry and is now based in Scotland. While the words ‘Derry’ and ‘freestyle’ aren’t exactly the most
Photo courtesy of Tim Russell
Joy Ride
common of bedfellows, he is determined to show the Irish that with a bit of nurturing, we could be breeding some serious contenders for what is a highly competitive sport. Jen and Tim talked to Lauren Crothers about the highs and lows of competitive riding, dislocated elbows, reconstructed knees – and how Ireland is the butt of people’s jokes...
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lessons at the Belfast Knockbracken/Mount Ober dry slope. On some winter holidays I saw people snowboarding but there was an anti-boarding smear campaign going on and parents were scared to let their kids try it. I was also only six or seven and you couldn’t easily find kit to use. When I was eight I finally got the chance to have a lesson and try it with my mum and sister in Val Thorens. It was always kind of hard picking up a sport you only got to do a handful of times a year, but I was young and determined. I called up any snowboard shop and skateboard shop I could to get brochures and stickers and read any magazine I could get my hands on. It made me feel like I was part of a thing that was happening so far away from me but I was wishing I was growing up and doing it like the kids living in the Alps or Scottish mountains. Getting
Photos by Lauren Crothers
How did you begin snowboarding – and why choose to race for Ireland? Jen: I learned to ski in Ruidoso, New Mexico, when I was 13 and got hooked on downhill sports. When I was 18 I took up snowboarding because I thought it was much cooler. I felt unique because I was one of only a handful of riders on my home mountain and the only girl. After college, I lived in Crested Butte, Colorado, and Lake Tahoe in California so that I could get better at riding. I took up the race board and did some amateur competitions in 2001 before getting my first Federation International Skiing (FIS) licence so I could do bigger competitions. Because I have dual citizenship, I had my choice between two countries. I chose to ride for Ireland because nobody had done it before. Tim: In the early 1980s my parents wanted to give skiing a go so we got
into skateboarding early on in snowboarding helped me so much. What obstacles are faced by the current crop of Irish snowboarders? Jen: You can’t get to the competitive level unless you live where you have snow and a trainer. Kirstin McGarry [Ireland’s Olympic skier] grew up part-time in Switzerland with parents who teach skiing. The Netherlands right now has two women who are dominating in snowboarding. Why? Because they grew up practising in indoor ski areas and spending their winters in Austria. Plus their father coaches snowboarding. It’s really important to have family support behind you. Tim: Facilities definitely. There is a great need for a snowdome and snowflex slopes with built in permanent kickers like those in Halifax and Glasgow. But flights are pretty cheap these days, and where there’s a will there’s a way. You can cheaply jump over to France or
Austria and ride summer glacier snowparks. It can be cheaper to live out there than back home and you can get summer resort jobs shaping parks or being a bartender. Get out there and do it any way you can, especially while you have a young body to bash and throw around. Do you feel representing Ireland piques people’s interest because you aren’t representing a country with any snow-covered terrain? Jen: It was a help as far as getting recognition. Event organisers were always excited to have me at races because they never had Ireland represented at the World Championships or World Cup before. Plus Ireland is loved all over the world, it’s not like it would have been representing the US because of the mixed reception those athletes get around the world! Tim: I reckon at the moment we are still a joke nation like the Jamaican bobsled team. Minds would only be changed through having a number of good solid riders. It’s the style and skill in your riding that shines through. Seasoned snowboarders can see right away if you can ride or not, from your stance to the way you hold your board. It’s a bit of a cliché – but it’s true. Describe how you felt when you competed for the first time. Jen: I used to get terribly nervous. So much so that I think my legs gave out from under me. I definitely had trouble keeping my head out of the way of my body! Tim: Very nervous and wobbly-legged, but I now realise I’m just as good as the other folk in the comp and not just the token joke – a goofy, tall, Irish rider. Can you see yourself doing this as a way of life from now on? Jen: Racing, no. Riding, yes! I’ve been away from competition for two
years and although I want to try again for the next Olympics, the expense is prohibitive. Tim: For the past year and a half I have been snowboarding all year round. I think there have only been one or two weeks when I haven’t stepped on a board. For the next few years I want to travel to compete and film. Japan, China, Middle East and South America are all places I would like to visit and shoot in. Ultimately, I want to set up a backcountry camp in Canada – a big log cabin set up that you can do one- to three-day hikes from and stay in
Jen: Too many. I’ve broken both wrists, had my right knee reconstructed, broken tailbone, a few concussions, impinged rotator cuffs on both shoulders, torn labrum (lining of my hip socket), and innumerable low back aches and pains. Tim: Dislocating my elbow and putting it back together myself. But a painful and funny one was snapping my whole ass muscle (the glutis, I think) after catching my heel edge on the landing of a lip and being thrown instantly against the ground sideways on my bum. The black and bloody swelling went all the way down to my foot. Standing in a snowboard shop wasn’t easy for a few weeks after it but I could still snowboard, so all was well. What’s the best riding experience you have ever had? Jen: I’ve been riding for 15 years and there are so many days, great days that come to mind. What an honour and pleasure it’s been to snowboard in countries like Chile, Argentina, Switzerland, Finland, Austria, Italy, Russian, Korea and Japan. My best days have involved powder, friends, laughter and beautiful mountains that make me feel lucky to be alive. Tim: Too many powder days to mention. There was an excellent powder kicker day in late March this season that I felt on it and able to throw down some big, big backflips and spins. I felt pretty on it and most things I tried worked out. If things are working well you tend to ride better. After we finished shooting the kicker we went and filmed us airing into and bombing down a big waterfall cliff hidden in the trees. The snow was pluming up over my head in big clouds as I blasted down the face.
snowholes or just hike back to the lodge. Do you prefer freeriding or jibbing around the park? Jen: I love powder. But I like the park too. Halfpipe is really fun but my skills really lie in big mountain riding and trees. Tim: I prefer freeriding, but you don’t always have the conditions so usually you would find me riding around the resort building kickers. I just like to think of the whole mountain as one giant skatepark and it’s your job to find all the lines and jumps. If you’re having fun it doesn’t matter what type of snowboarding you are doing. What’s the worst injury you’ve had so far?
l_crothers@hotmail.com
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6.15 a.m. 0.0km A rousing speech or two and an adapted prayer later: “may the sun shine on our faces and the wind be at our back…” we hit the road. Slowly. The group of 136 cyclists begins to inch its way to Galway. It seems like it going to take several days at this pace. The whole “I’m a mad bastard for cycling to Galway and back” effect soon wears off, surrounded as I am by another 135 mad bastards.
8.15 a.m. 39.8km The pace picks up and I begin to miss the good ol’ inching along. I talk Italian politics with Meister and the first 40km gets left by the roadside. Shouts of “hole!” and “slow!” merge together as we warn one other not to cycle into the all-consuming potholes of Ireland or, for that matter, the cyclist in front. We arrive in
westerly, ashamed of my inability to muster enough leg power to make my bloody bicycle move a bit quicker, I sit huffing and puffing in the back of the van. I’m driven to the top of the next hill in front of the group and I’m quickly eaten up. 10.12 a.m. 85.3km Lunch at this hour of the morning is not something I’m used to but I’m extremely grateful for it this time. I fill up on soup and sambos. I take up smoking. I stuff in another banana, a Snickers bar, a cereal bar and a glucose drink. This time there are a few dubious-looking but rather delicious-tasting Lucozade tablets.
11.46 a.m. 91.5km Just as I start to get proud of my ability to be very near to crashes but to
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Keeping
Kinnegad. 15 minute break time. The food van supplies us with Snickers bars, cereal bars, bananas and glucose drinks galore.
8.30 a.m. 39.8km Upon departure I make the ill-advised decision to adjust my saddle height. It breaks! The group leave without me while the mechanic searches frantically for a new nut to hold my saddle in place. Three minutes later I refuse to get put in the back of the van and insist on my ability to catch up with the group. I grit my teeth, fully confident in my legs. “I can make up the short distance to reel them in.” Then my chain falls off and I reject the back of the van once again. The back of the van however, unlike Jesus, would not be denied for a third time and, a few minutes later, I’m taken in. Forsaken by a stiff
avoid actu evitably, f ally falling over, I, those thingall over. It was one inpening for s you realise is ha of terly power a long time but ar pHansard’s less to stop. Glen e utinto my boring song com the grounhdead as my face neaes time I have – that’s how muchrs . 12.15 a.m No major h. 100.3km the road I r arm done. Back o turned to laealise my thighs h n ave ctic acid. 13.42 a.m Arriving in. 126.4km Ballinaslo in severa e I sh bananas,l cmore Snickers barosvel drinks an ereal bars and glu , while and d tablets. I sit for a cose tablets are ponder the effect th they just p actually having. Aese ally helpinlacebos or are they re r g me turn the pedalse-
It Wheel
slap’s Niall McGuinness cycles the 400 kilometres from Dublin to Galway and back in the name of charity. Here’s his journal of life on the road
around a few more times? I’m doubtful. I reach for a cigarette.
14.52 a.m. 132.4km Conversations about politics and otherwise get shoved to the side as I concentrate solely on not getting left behind by the group. Shouts of ‘slow’ are to me what a syringe of heroin is to a junkie: an enormous wave of relief. I get to freewheel for a moment or two: My God, the wonderment!
16.04 a.m. 165.2km Sick to me bloody teeth of Snickers bars, bananas and cereal bars I fail to stock up on the final break in Loughrea.
17.52 190.1km I pay for my error of judgement a little further down the road to Galway. I suddenly realise I’m hungry. Hunger for the cyclist is a very different animal than for the average Joe. Joe gets a couple of stages: ‘I don’t need to eat but I’m not full so I could’; ‘you know I’m a bit peckish I wouldn’t mind a nibble’; and ‘I’m fucking starving I need a load of chips and breaded chicken pieces to make me human again’. None of this happens on the bike. It’s more of a sudden insistency from your legs that they are not going to make the pedals turn anymore. This poses a slight problem when you are trying to break the 200km threshold. THE HISTORY OF THE GALWAY CYCLE
18.21 a.m. 202.4km Arrival in Eyre Square! Yeah! I whip out the little bottles of Jagermeister that lay waiting in my sweaty back pocket and pass them round. Never before has the brown syrupy stuff ever tasted quite so nice. I wonder how I’ll ever make it back!
The Galway cycle celebrated its 21st birthday this year. Organised by 10 hardy students, the cycle from Maynooth to Galway and back again takes place on the last weekend of March each year. Originally set up to raise funds for the ISPCC, the Galway Cycle now chooses a different children’s charity each year. This year was the turn of Headstrong, a charity that promotes mental health among the young. The cyclists begin the gruelling 400km challenge early on Friday morning with collectors supporting them all the way, arriving in Eyre Square on Friday evening. Early Saturday morning the streets of Galway are bombarded with enthusiastic faces collecting for their chosen charity. At the crack of dawn on Sunday, weary bodies rise to get back on their bikes for the journey home. niall_mc_guinness@yahoo.co.uk
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“The referee’s a w**ker!” After a lifetime of frenzied football supporting, Sinéad Bevan is suddenly a WAG. slap’s roving reporter turns to the Eircom League to prove a point
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orld Cup 2006, and I am in the pub. Dave, a fellow Brit abroad, is drinking his pint and looking murderous: “Those sodding footballer’s wives. They should stay at home. Back in the kitchen where they belong.” I give him a warning look but he doesn’t notice. He’s getting rather into his rant now. “Football’s a man’s game. Girls should only be allowed to watch it if they can coherently explain the offside rule.” Ciaran, nodding fiercely, chips in “Yeah. YEAH!” He turns to me. “Bet you only support Chelsea because you’re looking for an eligible husband. Get thee to Bray Wanderers, you’ll find a real man there.” Right. That’s it. I’ve had enough. As I reel off the finer points of the offside rule and Dave and Ciaran’s jaws slacken in shock, I get an unfamiliar feeling in my chest. Getting one over on the boys has always given me a kick. But this time there’s something else – a sense that my fellow females are letting the side down. During the World Cup of 2006, the papers were full of footballrelated news. The tabloids in particular couldn’t get enough of it. But bizarrely, this news was not concerned with ankle injuries, or Eriksson’s team tactics. The column inches were dominated by fake tan, false
nails and designer labels. By expensive restaurants and all night drinking binges. A new species had evolved, and the world stood by in shock and awe. The WAGs were born. The public were enthralled, but sensible minded folk rolled their eyes, and much stink was raised by those male supporters who felt that their beautiful game was being hijacked. It smacked somewhat of an anti-feminist rant – those women should (as my friend so eloquently put it) have been left at home in the kitchen where they belonged. And I, as a 21st century, independent woman, found myself in full agreement. Because in reality, this was a pro-feminist rant. Where had all the sensible women gone? Here I was being doubly offended. Not only was the focus taken away from the job at hand (football, anyone?) but as a woman on the terraces, my own sex was letting me down. Football has been part of the social fabric of my family for many years. My dad was born and brought up in London, supporting Chelsea, whose ground was just around the corner. Having three daughters mustn’t have given him much hope of ever seeing a match again. But they say your first love stays with you forever – and I can remember my first Chelsea match vividly. 1994, a grey May day, the last game of the season. We arrived late, and I can picture my dad hurrying me up the concrete steps, higher and higher to take our seats in the gods of the East stand. We beat Sheffield United 3-2 that day,
But maybe I have become complacent, pampered even by my time watching Chelsea. The glamour of the Premiership is not enough to prove your loyalty to the beautiful game these days. If you really mean business, you’ve got to get down to grass roots. So to prove a point, and to give Dave something else to put in his pipe and smoke, I find myself on the DART out to Bray on a chilly Friday evening to watch the Wanderers take on Finn Harps. It’s certainly a far cry from the mountainous sweep of most Premier League stadia. There’s a covered stand away to the left, and elsewhere people mingle about on little hillocks behind the goal. It may not have the sweeping grandeur of St James’ Park, but one thing can’t be knocked –
Pictures by Gary Fox
and Jakob Kjeldberg scored in the final minutes. A week later, I would be bawling my eyes out as we were trounced 4-0 by Manchester United in the FA Cup Final It still remains a predominantly male past-time, but a love of football has always stood me in good stead as a woman. Certainly I have silently thanked my knowledge of the off-side rule when trying to impress a lad. And when this has succeeded and I’m onto the next step, I’m grateful again for my fondness for Match of the Day when meeting boyfriends’ fathers. It’s always going to be a minefield of awkward silences, meeting your son’s new girlfriend, but being able to talk to her about the referee’s conduct in last Saturday’s match might break the ice a little. But suddenly, after years of sitting on rain-swept terraces across the UK, dodging fist fights in Tottenham, and getting crushed in the swell at Bolton, of suffering through the nil-nils, and screaming myself hoarse in the fouralls, now I’m a WAG. I support Chelsea. It doesn’t matter if I was supporting them when Glen Hoddle was the manager, when tickets were £5 and we were 14th in the league. To Dave, I’m part of the Russian empire, a glory hunter, and a potential golddigger. I’m not going to lie, I find Joe Cole to be a very attractive man. But I have no qualms about screaming “you fucking wanker” if he misses an important tackle.
you’ll always have a good view. Taking up a prime spot behind the goal, I settle in to watch the action. At first I feel completely conspicuous. I don’t know anything about these teams, or what any of these players are called. I think I have the goalkeeper sorted when I see “Gallagher” written across the back of his shirt but I’m a few milliseconds away from yelling “Great save Gallagher” when I realise that everyone’s shirt has Gallagher on it. It’s their sponsor. Well, that could have been embarrassing. My femalefootball-follower pride is quickly being diminished. Despite the size (Bray has a capacity of 5,000 and it’s barely a third full tonight), there’s still a lot of noise going on. There’s a loyal choir who have taken root in the stands, and supported by a drum, they make a constant racket throughout. On closer inspection, most of them seem to have the average age of 16. This is the one place where they can make a racket on a Friday night and not get in trouble for it. Feeling the need to find some female solidarity, I scan the crowds. There are a few women around, but they seem mainly to be minding young children, and they look bored. There’s a few “young ones” running up and down the walkway, giggling together and tripping over their Ugg boots. And suddenly, I can hear Dave’s voice in my head – these are the WAGs of the future. sinead.bevan@student.dit.ie
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Days Like these...
Cricky is an artist, poet and member of Dublin electronica group StarLittleThing
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rehearsing, I’d be in the studio every day, after dinner. They rehearse, and I lie down. . . . That’s the most important thing. The work relationship is amazing. I write the songs, and the ideas are sometimes people, sometimes experiences. I find myself dipping in and out of Grattan [Smith, vocalist with StarLittleThing]’s life, in and out of Fayzer [Arron Faye, musician with StarLittleThing]’s life. I could have four people in my head and I sort of live in their heads, and that’s interesting – because someone can say something and set it all off. I have a house in Slane, but that’s a weekend thing. I go down on Sundays, and I swim. I jump in and it’s freezing, then I go and stand in front of a massive fire. In Dublin I live alone, but I don’t get lonely because the only time I spend in the place is when I’m asleep. And I’ve got a bed in every room, so I can sleep wherever I want. I go to sleep when I fall asleep. I try to watch films. I saw There Will Be Blood recently. It was the first time in a long while that I film made me go “wow”, because the story was so simple. It was such a good story. Writing is just play. It’s like being a child. It’s endless. So an artist’s life; all it is, is play.
Photo by Clare Flynn
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get up at around 6am. I don’t have an alarm clock, but I don’t need one – I take an idea to bed with me and if it’s strong enough, it’s enough to wake me. I lie there for a while, playing with it, and that’ll usually get me up and kick-start my writing for the day. I used to write books, full-on books – and I got so involved in the ideas. When I get up – after I’ve done the tossing and turning thing – I figure out what cafe is going to be open. If I want to be completely free, I leave the car at home. I don’t cook – I eat out all the time. I have some food in my house: bread and cheese, because there are always people staying over. I eat pretty healthily – for breakfast I’ll have a scone, and some yoghurt. You can eat healthily without cooking. Then I stroll. What I like to do is just walk – someone told me that, for someone who walks a lot, I never lose any weight – I walk from South William Street to Arnotts, through the Ilac, down Moore Street and to the Moore Street mall. They have this restaurant downstairs where they play Bollywood videos, not films, just shorts, all day long. So I sit in front of that. . . . It’s a good buzz.
In life, you allow people to believe what they want to believe. Sometimes I’ll go and join a queue, any queue, and when I get to the end, and they say next, I spread out my arms and say “I’m not next”. Or I’ll go into a shop and start pointing, even if I don’t want anything. For lunch, I’ll go to two or three different places, because there’s always one good thing on the menu. I get a table and order my first course, then I leave some books behind and go on to the next place, have my next course, leave some books behind. . . . Then I do it all again, collect my books, pay for my first course, collect my books, pay for my second course. Sometimes I come back and think my books are gone, but usually the staff take them and look after them. Nine times out of ten, they’re in the exact same place. I don’t have stress, because I deal with ideas. My biggest problem at the moment is getting a particular pen that they don’t do any more. The guy in The Pen Corner is sorting it out for me. He offered to order me a box of them, but I said no, because then I wouldn’t be able to go in and talk to him. I think he was pleased. I don’t drink tea or coffee, except on the weekends, then it’s like a religious experience. There are only two places I'll go for coffee – Cookes or the Bald Barista, but it depends on where the sun is shining. In the evenings, when we’re
- in conversation with Rosemary Mac Cabe
rosemary.maccabe@gmail.com
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