It seems like my wife is having a very 21st-century affair

My wife has been having an affair for the last two years.

Her distraction has been obvious for much of that time, but the indicators of its full extent have been particularly apparent in the last few months: her constant preoccupation, bordering on obsession, with her incoming phone texts and emails; the way she took over the corner of the kitchen with hunched shoulders to focus on her replies; the knowing smirks as she performed her all too regular ritual of responding to repeated messages with intense concentration and, it seemed, feeling.

The relationship has also appeared tempestuous, involving the occasional roar or loud sigh. This, I assumed, was indicative of her passionate nature and a relationship that, while strong, was not without its problems.

This affair is very much a 21st-century one. It is conducted between her and “Teamer”, an online system used by the GAA and various other sporting organisations to communicate with parents of young players, using relentless emails and phone texts to ensure maximum turnout for training and matches.

There is no let up. If you sign up to this system it takes over your life.

In his address to the GAA’s annual congress in 1965, its president Seán Ó Síocháin urged members to respond imaginatively to the growing changes in Irish society. He sought to clarify what he regarded as the body’s social responsibilities, suggesting it should widen its scope if it was to fulfil its real purpose in Irish society. He maintained it should be catering to a wider section of the community, and that the modern GAA “would have to live all through the week and not only on Sundays”.

A heavenly jig

Almost a half century on, Seán must be dancing a heavenly jig. Teamer and the ubiquitous smartphone have ensured that the 21st-century GAA does indeed “live through all the week”. It has taken over everything, including my marriage.

A few years ago, there was some heated discussion regarding the GAA’s controversial winter ban on training for senior players to prevent burnout.

In theory, county teams were not allowed to arrange collective training sessions in November and December. That rule was revised in 2012 to enable teams knocked out of the championship early to go back training earlier than those who did better.

I’m sure this ban was and remains largely academic, given what can be organised informally. In any case it does not, unfortunately, apply to 10-year-old girls or their exhausted parents.

Dublin football manager Jim Gavin has been vocal in his opposition to the ban, suggesting that managers know what is good for their players. I want it introduced for the young Gaels to allow their parents’ romances to flourish once again; a chance perhaps to stay under the duvet for a few more Sunday mornings instead of embracing the freezing December fields of dreams.

Business as usual

It was business as usual last weekend and, although we’ve been promised a Christmas lull, they’re back to full tilt on January 3rd, which means Teamer will go into overdrive before the Christmas holidays are over.

Not enough of a break, I’m afraid.

I’m sure I can be accused of being a less than fully committed Gael with all this carping, but that is nothing new. Twenty years ago when I started teaching courses on the social and cultural history of 20th-century Ireland, I included a lecture on the evolution and impact of the GAA. One of my peers – as true and pure a GAA stalwart as you will find – was not pleased: “With you,” he remarked sternly, “the GAA is not in a safe pair of hands.”

It still is not, despite the efforts of my own three junior Gaels, whose participation in six teams ensures Teamer is firing out messages at a ferocious rate.

The same critic who doubted my ability to do academic justice to the GAA once eyed a coffee cup I was holding on the side of a pitch with great suspicion. He didn’t need to say anything: the steely gaze delivered a silent lecture on the indulgence of it all and the inappropriateness of attempting to incorporate Starbucks into the Gaelic sphere.

But that was nothing compared to his sour reaction to my defiant confession that I also sometimes do the grocery shopping while training is on, instead of barking out encouragement to the young charges. I am also unapologetic about that. This national sporting enterprise, such is its scale, requires a huge amount of food, and how the hell else are you supposed to find the time to stock up?

Of course, all this running around is doing wonders to cement community spirit and challenge childhood obesity and boredom, while building the character of both parents and children.

I don’t care. I want my wife back, and not just for Christmas.