Talk of the town: That Cork team
"The Double? The Treble? Who are ye codding? And where is the love for the Cork footballers?" asks Pádraig O'Connor.
It’s good to have friends in high places, or failing that big pharma and multinational companies. In exchange for their hard work “advancing science for life”, occasionally they come up trumps with free tickets to events sponsored by their paymasters.
Last Monday afternoon I got a call from a wild Clare man (is there any other kind?) to say he had entered a raffle in his office that morning and was now in possession of two premium level tickets for the Munster U20 football final, between Cork and Kerry in Páirc Uí Chaoimh.
We arranged to meet that evening outside the City Hall and as we strolled down along the Marina and made our way towards the Páirc (someday in the distant future a trip you’ll be able to make on the Luas), we got chatting about his two most recent trips abroad; one to Kyrgyzstan on holiday and the other to Waterford to see his county men get toppled by the Déise in the Senior Hurling Championship.
“At least in Kyrgyzstan I got a break from listening to people talk about Cork winning the All-Ireland,” he said.
“Thank God we beat them last year”.
“I was more happy they hadn’t won an All-Ireland for twenty years, than Clare winning”.
While this is a rather perverse line of thought in my opinion, at the same time he was still merely expressing a more widespread view about the hype surrounding the largest bandwagon team in Irish sport, the Cork hurlers.
To try to explain this to someone from the Rebel county (“God’s Chosen People” in the words of former manager Donal O’ Grady, echoing a disturbing sentiment shared by some in the Middle East), would be like trying to explain the concept of water to a fish.
Yet however off-putting the bravado of anyone associated with the Cork hurling team might be right now, one thing is abundantly clear: they are in the ascendancy, rising faster than Japanese knotweed.
It’s only natural, then, that people would want to get on board and be present for some long-overdue success, a stark contrast to the county’s footballers, who are forever locked in an entirely abusive relationship with their supporters.
This was never more evident than in the small crowd gathered for the U20 match, a grade Cork dominated for large parts of the last decade but are currently struggling in. Throw in the lack of success at senior level and it all adds up to some serious levels of apathy.
This is a great oversight really, because were Cork to ever get their act together in footballing terms, they would have vast natural advantages over the majority of other counties in terms of pick and resources.
As it is however, as long as people by the Lee think Alan Connolly flicking a ball over his head with a hurley from thirteen yards out is genius, while Brian O’ Driscoll kicking monstrous two pointers every time he steps onto the field isn’t worth looking at, things are unlikely to change any time soon.
It didn’t bother my friend and I either way. We were sitting on cushioned seats with the sun beating down on our faces, eating overpriced burgers (there were no prawn sandwiches on the menu) and waiting in vain for a contest to break out on the field.
Although the latter part never happened, it was nonetheless a pleasant way to spend a Monday evening. Certainly much better than watching a game of league hurling, which is a bit like going to see the ABBA hologram tour in London.
In your heart of hearts you know you’re not seeing the real deal, but you’ve had to pay top buck for the privilege of getting in the gate, so you might as well at least pretend to enjoy it for what it is.
As the match petered out, the Cork supporters began to leave early, rolling their eyes and tutting on the way out. It had been a tough watch for even their most ardent of followers, but they were quick to console themselves.
“At least we’re going to win in the hurling,” one of them said with a broad smile and a tap of his rolled up programme on his friend’s shoulder.
“It’s the rebel treble this year kid,” came his friend’s reply.
“We’re going to win the whole lot.”
I turned to my friend beside me.
“Will we leave?” he said.
“We might as well,” I replied.
From the archive:
The Douglas hurler keeping the craft of hurley making alive
When you leave Adam Lingane’s workshop, come out the gate and cross the green in front of his parent’s house about five miles bang ahead in the distance is the unmistakable white roof of the south stand of Páirc Uí Chaoimh.