West woken during St James' nap

Ten minutes to go in the Galway v Derry All-Ireland semi-final and time to acknowledge the precision-like nature of Joe Brolly's prediction that Ulster football might just say "yes" to a spot in the final against Kerry or Meath in four weeks' time.

Time to hail Joe's feisty forecast, one made in the face of RT╔ team-mate Colm O'Rourke nigh on tumbling off his chair in hilarity at the thoughts of a Derryman having a date in Croke Park in late September.

Time to declare: the west, in Gaelic footballing terms, is comatose, long live the west. Awake, now, only in hurling terms, so: time to bid adieu to dreams of the double.

Time to switch for a bit to Sky Sports to catch a snatch of the English north-east derby between Newcastle and Sunderland. Enough of that, time to switch back to Network Two to (expectantly) see a victorious and vindicated Joe holding Colm in a headlock, howling "repent or I shall send thee down a darkened alley with the free-scoring Derry forwards, coached by non other than moi".

Hmm, time to ask "what, precisely, is going on here?" Ger Canning's noting that "they're all happy, dressed in their maroon jerseys" while Galway manager John O'Mahony is telling us that "we were dead in the water . . . but we're still afloat", despite us deserting the sinking Galway ship 600 seconds ago.

Michael Lyster is predicting that the "pressure for tickets in the west will be wojous" while a disbelieving Alan Kerins, Galway dual player, is telling us he "can't believe it". To which the television audience replied: neither can we Alan.

A goal and six points without reply? The west, evidently, woke up while the north took a nap, and while we were snoozing at St James' Park.

So then, time to delete that nine-paragraph tribute to Brolly's powers of prophesy, that hearty chortle at Colm O'Rourke's lack of faith in all footballing things north of Leinster and that elegy to football in Tuam and surrounding areas. Time to start all over again. Is that a Galway resident I hear ordering a double? Will we ever learn?

"You wouldn't have given tuppence for Galway," said Joe post-match. "Their goal came from their number 26, so what can you do," he concluded, wearily.

Just enough time for Michael (the Galway native who, by now, was grinning like a cat from Cheshire) to squeeze in an auld competition, the prize a trip for two to Australia for the uncompromising compromise rules series.

"Get yer pen and paper ready," he advised us. All set. All we had to do was identify the Derry captain. "Anthony Hopkins, Anthony Clare or Anthony Tohill," asked Michael. Easy. As the Swatragh midfield kingpin once said himself: "A census taker once tried to test me - I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti." Answer: Anthony' "Hannibal Lecter" Tohill-Hopkins. G'day Australia, here we come.

Speaking of diets of liver, fava beans and chianti . . . one suspects Matt Varner has tried them all. Anything to get ahead in his chosen sport of American Football. "I'm a little puppy but I want to be a big dog just like the seniors," said the teenager, who plays for Kings Mountain High School in North Carolina, on the CBS's Eye on America last week.

Matt stands at six-foot three and weighs in at almost 20 stones, which makes him a bigger teenager than most teenagers should be and marginally less fit than your average sumo wrestler. Matt puts his weight problem down to creatine, the "nutritional supplement that promises bulk and brawn" and one that sales have rocketed to £400 million worth a year in the US.

Matt quit using creatine after he piled on another 15 pounds and was told by his doctor it was doing nothing for his health. But he can't get shed those 15 pounds which suggests that either (a) he's living on a diet of Ben and Jerry Chocolate Chip Ice Cream, Big Macs and crisps or (b) creatine is a whole lot more harmful than we're led to believe.

If the pros want to use the stuff then off with them, but when gormless teenagers with stars in their eyes follow suit and end up damaging their health it's time to put them back on their greens and convince them that sporting stardom just ain't worth the price.