I LIKED the line that Eoghan Harris quoted at the top of his column in the Sunday Independentlast weekend: "No matter how much you want to, you never unbecome the place you came from." The question Harris posed was, what if you feel you come from three places? I'd add something to that. What if you only come from two? Having multiple places to call home is useful as the GAA championship progresses, writes SARAH CAREY
I’m from Meath, where, as Mick Lyons once said, “We say ‘excuse me please’ before taking the ball”. Then I have that mystical but overwhelming sense of coming home when we make trips to Mullahoran in Co Cavan, the land of my mother and her mother.
The problem is Cavan don’t tend to feature for very long in the championship and while Meath have given us great days out, they have been worryingly absent from the later stages of the competition for several years.
Whenever I inquire about our lack of success I’ve been assured that “we’re rebuilding”. This rebuilding is taking some time. The other problem is that my talented and charismatic cousin Luke Dempsey was treated rather shabbily by the Meath county board last year.
One minute he was being invited to apply for the job of manager and the next a “natives only” movement saw him shoved aside. Now, I understand completely the motives behind the “no non-royals need apply” policy. Sport, and particularly GAA, is all about psychology. The bonds of place and birth are far too important to cast aside in a weak moment of greed for victory. But Luke’s mother is from Meath and isn’t his uncle one of the county’s most distinguished public representatives?
Further, having watched him play in his early career for Johnstown Bridge in its glory years when they featured regularly in the Kildare county final, I can personally testify that his spirited manner of play would indicate a strong cultural alignment. He was the right man for the job.
So while the Royals managed to hang on against Limerick at the weekend, the slight against my cousin has taken the good out of it. I’m still for Meath, but not with the same purity of conviction I could carry eight years ago. It’s rather spoiling things.
But the worst, the worst thing of all is that awful moment of self-revelation when I’m asked, “Who are you shouting for?” and the shadow of my parents looms large.
The shameful truth is that when asked on any given Sunday to choose between two teams, the cantankerous answer my father is wont to give form in my mouth – “I want them both to lose”. This is the great problem of the GAA. It’s as much about who you’re against as who you’re for. To further complicate matters allegiances shift on a match-by-match basis. The team you willed to win one weekend could give you great satisfaction by losing the next.
Dublin, Kildare, Mayo, Kerry. I want them all to lose. To date, Dublin and Kildare have obliged. The other two will provide nail-biting interest for another six weeks.
My motives are all quite reasonable, I think. Kildare is our nearest neighbour – too near. The border lies a few hundred yards south of our house and three miles both east and west of the village. If the Lilies ever get restless they could ethnically cleanse our Royal behinds in a couple of hours.
Naturally, this creates an imperative to wish only ill upon their county’s athletic aspirations. The rivalry is a delicate balance involving good-natured teasing through the winter that gets colder and meaner until neighbours may have to stop speaking come July. Kildare has to lose simply so we can maintain some semblance of civilised life.
Then there’s Dublin. It’d be great for all the Dublin children who take part in club events week in and week out if their team did well. But the media overblows their supposed skill and their supporters don’t help. A lot of Dublin people moved into Enfield in recent times and I’m willing to take a multi-cultural approach to the free expression of athletic support, but within the bounds of decency. Kids in blue jerseys are tolerable, but the number and size of the flags have been deliberately provocative. Combined with fanciful headlines, it meant they had to go.
As for Mayo, I will never forgive them for their complaints when they lost to Meath in 1996. Gaelic football is a man’s game and I like my losers to take their beatings like men. I accept that in Meath’s case this statement might be unfairly interpreted too literally. What I mean is, in defeat, shake the other guy’s hand and move on. Mayo will never win an all-Ireland until they stop complaining about losing.
Finally there’s Kerry. It’s an awful feeling wishing they’d lose and yet being in awe of their incredible skill and grace with a football. But watching every other county slug it out ugly and painfully only to have Kerry swan up to Dublin and casually walk off with another All-Ireland is too much. In fact, in order to avoid being thrashed by them I’d almost rather we were beaten by Mayo next week. You see the problem? Mayo or Meath this Sunday? I’d like them both to lose.