Sometimes we need to stand back and appreciate the smaller things in life. At this time of the year it’s easy to get wrapped up in Monaghan and Kildare and Derrytresk and the things that make the back pages of the publishing media or on the television. Even the wireless is full of phone-ins about Tomas O’Se’s knees and Junior football’s future. It’s at this time that I feel sorry for the small-time club footballer who’s toiling away two times per week training and then playing a match at the weekend with the majority of spectators yapping away about the match that was on the TV earlier. We forget about the average Dan club man. Yet not all clubs allow themselves to sift into the background whilst the better players get all the column inches.
Any club I’ve managed to turn around spectacularly didn’t subscribe to this star-gazing trait. I’ve always been aware of the lads who make this club what they are and the community who keep the pound in the meter. I’d be a fan of putting on all-dancing sports days and parish club tournaments at the same time as big games on the TV to test the loyalty of the parishioners and to be fair they always come good though many just sit in the bar watching the big game. I’d prefer that they’re spending their beer money in the clubroom than giving it to the off-licence. All clubs can do this and should. If they need help in setting up this type of attraction they can contact me through the boys that get paid in this publication.
However, a word of warning: because county boards are too concerned about feeding, dressing and fawning over their county players and management team, you tend to find they pay less attention to what is going on at club level, especially when it comes to discipline and sanctions. I should know. In 1979 I was in the process of re-energizing a small club in the foot of the Sperrins in county Derry. I was doing a great job and we were able to field 2-3 teams at senior and reserve level. As was my wont, I organised a sports day for the club during the height of the inter-county season to keep the parishioners focussed on what really matters. I invited three other clubs close to us including Bellaghy and Dungiven who would all play each other in a light-hearted tournament. I also organised bouncy castles, bare-knuckled boxing, bale-throwing, Irish Dancing, shooting, fishing, running, wife-carrying and laughing competitions to keep everyone interested in some form or another.
I was vaguely aware that Dungiven and Bellaghy had played out a rather fractious championship that had 6 men lined, a mass brawl at the end and a local pub had been burned that night. I was sure though that with the casual nature of the occasion it would pass off peacefully and maybe even lead to reconciliation after a few beers later on. As it was, those same teams were due to commence the whole day’s festivities with a 15-minute each way match. The weather was glorious and I was a tad emotional when cars with registrations from Donegal and even Down arrived in their throngs. I saw one Tyrone car with 15 children crammed into the back of it, all with excited smiles on their faces at the prospect of a day’s jollification. The bales, boxing ring and bouncy castles were all glimmering majestically in the sun as everyone waited for the throw-in by the local PP. I’d guessed there was about 10’000 there and this was the day that the All-Ireland semi-final was on the TV. I’d done it again.
Unfortunately, that moment when the ball was at its highest point in the sky during the throw in was as good as it got. By the time the ball had started to descend mayhem had broken out on the field. All thirty players were engaged in an all-out war with their opponent. Some players produced weapons they’d crudely made, from under their trunks. It was like a picture you’d see in a gallery depicting some old battle in 1588. Women covered the eyes of their children. The majority of spectators stood open jawed at the carnage. All of a sudden six carloads of priests screeched around the bend and right onto the field. I’d never seen so many clergy in one spot before. They flailed holy water around the park and a few engaged in the rosary. One frocked fellow actually threw a few digs himself. Shortly two busses full of cops arrived and arrested as many of those in attendance as they could, including some innocent female bystanders and their children.
That day still haunts me and my judgement of participants for the fun day was a grave error. Derry football is known for its toughness but the depth of their grudges is something that I wasn’t prepared for. I just remember that carful of 16 children leave the field with one of the young lads saying, ‘Daddy, why was the priest hitting the number 10 with a cudgel?” That was not the impression of the GAA I was trying to promote. That night I packed up and walked off into the sunset towards Toome.
So, I implore all club chairmen to earn their crust and promote the club during this period of admiring the elite. Just be careful though that you choose your participants with a little more foresight that I did.
