Ah yes, the career of the Gaelic footballer can end in a flash. Just ask any of the Roscommon senior players. The word emanating from the west on Thursday evening, confirming that the entire senior football squad had been sacked pending a tribunal of inquiry, represented a watershed for the GAA but leaves a number of confusing issues.
The mass culling has its origins in the almost forgotten and not quite notorious "lost weekend" that Roscommon's finest embarked upon prior to the championship. The more revealing moments of their sporting adventure found a way from closed circuit television to the pages of a tabloid newspaper that, take note, is not Irish in origin. Although Roscommon's hierarchy maintained a stiff upper lip for the sake of the jersey while the team was still in the championship, they have now had the entire squad sent down and are inviting all members to offer a full disclosure on what exactly occurred in Derry that weekend.
But as has been well documented, it was the players' penchant for a spot of total disclosure that landed them in trouble in the first place.
In what was definitely a new departure from the traditional GAA training weekend, several of the men that collectively form the pride of Roscommon partook in a session of what can only be described as naked pool. Late night naturist billiards, to be precise. Exhaustive studies of GAA manuals, modern fitness regimes, autobiographies and even the articles of association contain no reference to such an activity. It was definitely the brainchild of the Roscommon players.
Ours is not to reason why. Nor is it our place to try to gauge the enjoyment to be procured from such an exercise. True, pool can be a trifling dull, but nonetheless. But maybe it is time to say: so what if they did?
Undoubtedly, the decision to shoot some eight ball in the nip is, at the very least, a bit strange. Although this has yet to be confirmed, we are sure that the premises on which the session occurred did not invite such exhibitionism. It is almost certain that there exists no brochure with the words, "after relaxing in our steam room and jacuzzi, why not unwind with a game of naked pool?" It seems definite that the Ros' boys took matters into their own hands on this one.
But while there were no pamphlets explicitly encouraging that scenario, neither were there any formal warnings against. There can be no sign, in the now infamous billiards room, with the caveat: Warning: Naked Pool Is Prohibited. Achtung! Unbekleidetes Spielen Verboten. Attention! Ne Jouez Pas Nu.
For all we know, that could be the way they play pool in Roscommon. Perhaps that has been the preferred cueing style in that part of the world for decades and the players were just preserving a time-honoured tradition. But the stern attitude of the GAA's ruling body within the county suggests otherwise.
The investigation will undoubtedly have repercussions for Roscommon GAA. It will take many, many years before a Roscommon senior manager can stand before his team in the dressing-room and bellow the tried and trusted GAA rallying cry, "show them yez have the balls for it, lads". It would take a foolhardy mentor indeed to voice the traditional accusation about effort: "Get effin' well stuck into them. I haven't seen a decent tackle yet."
And the manager whose county draws Ros' in the championship will have to think twice before saying: "Well, we all know their form and it's going to be backs against the wall." The innuendo could go on forever - and possibly will. But first comes the inquiry and the inevitable laying bare of the facts. It will take a stout and liberal type to preside over a hearing that promises gruesome particulars.
AND there is no promise of a happy resolution. Although it is only summer, the GAA in general should prepare itself for the possibility that the Roscommon boys will remain exiled indefinitely, especially if they defend their right to sink the black au naturel. And it is, let us remember, a free country.
If that is to be their fate, then let us hope they do not go gently into that good night. They could form a sort of carnival and give barnstorming exhibitions in pool halls around the country in the same way as the Harlem Globetrotters used to thrill people with their ball skills.
Gradually, the appeal of billiards without the frills might capture the popular imagination. Television might become interested. In no time at all, it would probably be a listed event. Roscommon Uncovered.
And they could pose for a fund-raising calendar, with tactfully positioned frames and pockets and, where appropriate, cubes of chalk. They could call it The Colour of Money with the full back line forming Messrs January, February and March and so on. It would be intriguing to see how the GPA would respond to a promotion like that.
Perhaps it is brave of the GAA to try to nip the phenomenon of nude pool right now rather than just brush the issue under the beize. The contemporary Gael may be ready for a new-fangled stadium but it is doubtful that he wants to see the association going continental altogether.
The GAA has two choices here. Either it accepts the right of its members to shoot pool with or w/o attire, and consequently drafts a motion to that affect for Congress, or it holds McCarthyite hearings on such goings-on.
Clearly, conservatism is winning out in what has been a unique and touchingly liberating footnote in the history of the GAA. Roscommon may not have won any silverware this year, but they will be remembered for breaking one of the GAA's great taboos.
Exactly what that taboo is, nobody will ever be quite sure, but they definitely smashed it.
Chances are the Ros' legends will be back in training in October, contrite and covered up and anxious to put the exposé behind them. Either that, or they will go down fighting. Sooner or later they may find their way back to some pool room or another and, bursting with pride for a jersey that has already been discarded, one brave pioneer will shout, "Right so. I'll break." And after that, there can be no playing safe.
