Times have definitely changed. You only have to avail of newspaper archives to understand the peculiarities of a few decades ago. I was browsing one such organ and came across a story about a man who was jailed for kicking a dog. On the other side of the page, another man had been arrested for ‘roaring his head off’, in Greencastle. There have also been some peculiar rules in the GAA. A good few years ago you might have scored 0-20 with the opposition scoring 1-0 and they won. That was simply because at one time games were decided on the amount of goals scored, with points only counting if that was equal. Another was the red card rule in December and January in that you could get the line as often as you wanted then and there’d be no further punishment. I remember looking forward to games at that time of the year knowing that you could take the head off anyone without fear of discipline. Matches at that time of the year were great score settlers. Men were decapitated before the ball was even thrown up. Thousands would flock to see mass brawls between parishes. But it was part of the game, all within the rules supposedly.
Not all of the oddities within the general rulebook of the GAA have been addressed. One such bizarre regulation is the ruling regarding the training of sides in December. Apparently there should be no get-togethers on the field of play for any squad. They’re prepared to have back doors, front doors, cups, inter-provincials, club competitions for every level, U10, U11, U12, U13 and so on throughout the season, but under no circumstances should there be any laps done in December. Have you ever heard the like?
Last year I was contacted by a high profile inter-county manager who was sweating about the season ahead. In 2008 they had underachieved slightly and he was keen to have a head start on the chasing pack by getting a few fitness and bonding activities out of the way before Christmas. He gathered his troops in Mid-Ulster for a one-hour lapping session. Within two minutes a car load of Ulster officials landed on the field and chased them. It was clear then that The Powers are randomly roaming the streets and backroads of Ulster every day looking for anyone who is breaking the rule. It’s cat and mouse time.
I had to think on my feet. I knew that one of the national papers had advertised a drive-in cinema whereby punters simply drove there in their motors and watched the picture. Soon myself and the manager in question were thinking along the same lines. He advertised a drive-in at a farm in the remotest of locations although he made sure all his squad knew about it. In the meantime, he put together a motivational film for his men, with tactics and training regimes discussed in great details, to be shown on the big screen. On the day of the viewing things seemed to be going to plan as the projector was set-up against the gable wall and the first few motors arrived, all members of his squad. Soon things turned pear-shaped. Word had got out about the venture and all manner of farmer attended in their Masseys, Combines and horse. They then caused havoc when it dawned on them that this film wasn’t all that good and soon started hurling abuse and manure at the screen, eventually smashing the projector in an ether-fuelled frenzy.
After that disaster, I concocted another plan. I had once read about a teacher in the 1700s educating his pupils in the fields of Donegal whilst picking spuds. The pupils just stood around in the drills listening to him speak Latin and learning it that way. Well, the county I was dealing with had bogs a-plenty and in no time the boss had his side out in mid-December cutting and stooling the turf. It was a tough number as the ground was rather frozen as the spades rattled their bones every time they made contact with the bog. All the while, the manager rallied his troops with tactics and motivational speeches for the coming year. Unfortunately, conditions worsened and three men were laid down with the frost bite and another got stuck in a half-frozen sheugh. Before long, the officials were on the scene, probably tipped off by a rival county’s housewife.
Further schemes were invented: Meeting upstairs in the gallery during Mass; running around the church during Mass; training at midnight with no floodlights; dressing up as women and pretending they were just happy girls skipping around a field with gay abandon – all ideas were attempted at least once. However, every time that car load of Ulster Officials would land within minutes to spoil the party. You have to give it to the Ulster Council. When they are given a directive, they carry it out to its extremity.
It then dawned on me that perhaps the Council were right after all. December is a time for family, for rest and for attending dinner dances, getting full and taking part in fist fights afterwards or menacing stick-wielding battles. Years ago, men and women used to get nicked for ‘roaring their head off’ at this time of the year and not worrying about running around a field 12 months a year. What have we become if we’re thinking about 2010 before the year that’s in it has been properly celebrated and reviewed. Take a break, lads, and kick a dog.
