"Ye only know about kicking turnips around the field" a man sitting behind me jibed at a neighbour before the game. I was at my first GAA match in a few years, with my husband's tribe, shouting for the wrong side. Luckily I didn't have to shout too much, because the poor Roslander's didn't seem to have the ball all that often, looking like a pack of panicking ostriches whenever the ball did land somewhere near them. The one entertainment was Rossie no. 11. Despite the 1 point to 3 goals 11 at half time, he came out bravely after the break, still with his strangely lovely legs shown to their fullest advantage with socks pulled down as far as they'd go. It was kind of fascinating, I don't know whether it was that his shorts were too small, but his legs seemed to go on forever and his were definitely the best two stripes of well tanned (though admittedly slow moving) flesh on the field, kind of hypnotic. Luckily I saved the day by shouting "last score wins" just as Roscommon got the last point of the game, they lost 3 goals 18, to 7 points, but I think the moral victory was theirs.
I mightn't turn into a full time GAA fan after all.
4 comments:
I'll have to sit you down one day and explain this game to you, but in the meantime, I always used find it handy to have 2 badges, so that I could be sure to have the winning one on display at the end. (I was very young then, of course, and could be forgiven such perfidy).
Another essential part of being at a game is 'the fight' - preferably with opposition supporters standing near you. But you have to learn an awful lot of bad words to be able to excel at that one.DQ
Not one for fighting really, but thanks for the tips anyway!!
I watched the game on TV in a part of East Galway so close to the Roscommon border that there are pockets of Roscommon supporters in each parish. (My wife's mother is a Rossie). My own GAA roots are shallow indeed - not because I come from a county, Donegal, that has tasted precious little success, but mainly because my family had no connection with GAA whatever, and for one reason or another, I never developed any major passion for the game. That is not to say I don't enjoy the odd game, just that, like soccer, or any sport for that matter, I would never really miss it. But when I watch or attend a game in the company of those who love it, I usually succumb to their infectious passion for their colours. And last Saturday I was in a house that would always root for Roscommon, except against Galway, where things get complicated. But on Saturday the game was over before it really started. After Mayo's shock and awe start, Ros had a couple of goal chances that just didn't come off. If those had gone their way, then they just might have managed a respectable defeat. As it was, they simply collapsed. And very soon the game shifted from being a contest to being a display, and an excruciating countdown to the finish. True Ros supporters must have been sickened, for even neutrals were moved to pity. It was a sorry sight to see the Ros fans streaming out of the grounds with a fair chunk still on the clock.
Tomaltach - twas fairly sickening even for the neutral, kind of heartbreaking, but we stayed till the bitter end... They'll get in the back door though - probably win an epicly heroic unbelieveable game against Kerry... in Mr VC's dreams,
As his dad said they were only beaten by 2 points in the second half though - always look on the bright side...
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