Less Poetry ,Please

“This will really have to stop. It’s gone too far, “said the Wing Centre’s brother. He used to play for Kinlochshiel and won some minor medals with them a long time ago. More than that he won a silver medal at a far off Wester Ross Provincial Mod which presumably means that once upon a time he knew what real poetry was. Anyway, all he said was “You must have caught the bug from somewhere.”

“I simply can’t think where I got it

  But it’s really very hard to stop it”    said the compulsive versifier , with a sigh.

“It’s been like this for months till now

  But I’d like to stop it anyhow”

“Were you anywhere near the honorary bard of Kintail Lochalsh and Glenshiel?  I think I saw you speaking to him at the ‘Shiel game over at Balgate in October,” said the brother who tends to notice things.

“The answer is a most definite Yes

  I spoke to him there I must confess”

“Then that must be the explanation simple or otherwise. I fear however, you are going to need specialist help to get over this affliction. There is nothing worse in life than the awful certainty of an obvious rhyme. Even Shakespeare’s characters avoided that.” The brother waited for an answer.

“I know

Even though

they spoke in poetry all the time,

they didn’t feel the need to rhyme

But the thought of rhyming till I drop

Upsets me - so it’s got to stop! “was the answer the brother got, at which he walked away baffled.

So there matters stand for the present; the Wing Centre has been struck with the divine afflatus, the virus having been passed on from another team’s bard and until the illness abates there is nothing for it but to give him time and stick with the rhyme.

Which is easier said than done- and can be very irritating as the Chairman found out when he asked for a brief report on the Inverness friendly which the Glen won 2-1.

“James Cameron put the town ahead

And then I thought the game was dead

Till  Finlay R knocked our first one in

And his second goal gave us the win.” said the Wing Centre not really realising what he was doing. The Chairman looked at him rather strangely but said nothing and moved on to other business.

“How’s our Lotto going so far this year ?” he asked

“Not really very well I fear.

When the prize is low

The tickets are slow

To go”

“Are we making anything on it at all?” asked the Chairman

“If we are, the sum’s quite small” said the Wing Centre without any forethought as to the consequences.

“It was £20 we made last week

if the jackpot’s high, the takings peak”

The Chairman sighed and went on to talk about the Beauly game. The Wing Centre remained silent until he was asked to comment on that particular clash.

“Usually I would not give a toss

But that was a disappointing loss

Still, Connor’s goal was taken well

After that we went to H…”

He was not permitted the time to finish his sentence-if that was what it was going to be. As he walked slowly up Balmacaan Road  it was clear that his problems with compulsive  rhyme was becoming serious- made more deadly by the poor handling of metre and syllable. Too many years reading about Rupert Bear and Bill the Badger in Nutwood might have set up the initial infection but the disease had only really taken off after that conversation at Balgate.

Still it isn’t all bad ,as this little piece of poesy might reveal.

The New Shinty Season-Bring it on

The Shinty season’s almost here;

The nets and goals are up.

Helen’s washed the stripey shirts

and cleaned the Macdonald Cup

Plonker’s lined the Blairbeg sward

In straight, geometric lines

And Billy’s cut the grass quite short

While Iain’s used the tines.

The corner flags are newly sewn

There’s fresh turf on the D.

The edges have been trimmed right back

Just what you want to see.

We’ve cleared the pitch of rubbish

and filled in all the holes

We’ve even purged the lower side

of a herd of hungry moles.

With the AGM behind us

for yet another year

and the Dinner Dance being over,

there’s nothing left to fear.

The training’s already started;

The boys seem keen once more.

Here’s hoping that the black and reds

Can make the home crowd roar.

We wonder why we do it:

no one really knows

But come the opening week of March

Once more we’re on our toes.

Yes, we may win a cup or two

or nothing much at all.

But we’ll keep Glen shinty going

and answer every call

And there it is-though there really ought to be something about the Glen Girls’ match against Kinlochshiel and now thanks to Ishbell’s timely intervention there actually is.

The result went 7-0 in favour of the Glen With the scorers being: Abi Stoddart (3), Hazel Hunter (2) and Claire Hannon (2)

Glen fielded a strong squad of 14 to take on Kinlochshiel in the opening friendly of 2018.It was therefore  a good opportunity for new players Iris Erskine, Julie MacLeod and Kirsty Smith to get some experience ahead of the season 

“Despite having had our initial training hampered by poor weather and icy conditions on the Astro we were intrigued to see how we would perform especially against the new Kinlochshiel side. In the event Abi Stoddart and Claire Hannon were dominant in the midfield. And that eventually told against the inexperienced ‘Shiel girls

Overall the team appeared to enjoy playing together again, with some moments of good passes and well executed basics. There were also moments which showed our rustiness .  The squad is back to training on Tuesday nights 19:30-21:00 on the Astro turf; all are welcome.  

The other pre season friendlies to look forward to are

Lovat Saturday 17th 10:00 in Balgate 

Inverness Tuesday 20th 19:30 On the Astro in Drumnadrochit

Strathglass Saturday 24th 10:30 throw up on the Astro in Drumnadrochit “

The Girls’ season commences for real on 4th March when we are away to Glengarry. Thanks to Ishbell Barr for the words: I am sure that given her connection with the West, next time she could manage it in rhyme

Oh and finally----

Well done to Sheena who did snatch

Some pics from the Inverness match .

Verse or Worse

“Poetry and Shinty eh? There’s no doubt the two go together just like..like...eh ..like whisky and Irn Bru.”

 No sooner had the Wing Centre come out with that line than herself stopped him.

“You can’t say that,” said she. “The Camanachd Association would get the wrong impression of the Club and bang would go that hard earned Bronze Award. It doesn’t sound like an athletic lifestyle to be drinking all that whisky and Irn Bru.”

 

Though he had heard of much nastier combinations, on the spot, the Wing Centre decided not to pursue that point but anyhow ,the idea of a shinty/poetry interface (as the great Sorley Maclean would no doubt have said if he were still with us and going to seminars) stuck in his napper.

After all Kinlochshiel were great at the poetry. They wrote poems for their big wins which actually meant that so far they had done two. However, given the sort of season that the Glen had just survived, any win big enough to be the subject of some immortal versifying seemed (and seems)  pretty unlikely. And what on earth can rhyme with either Bronze or Certificate?

However,the Committee, surprisingly, were not in anyway negative about the idea-indeed they had information of their own. ”There is certainly a Bard in Balnain,” said the Chairman, “though he is more inclined to deal with matters of topicality or politics.”

“There is, of course,  another Bard in Balmacaan,” opined the Chieftain ,”and I hear he’s quite good.”

“In my day,”said Mr Reid, proving that he is always right up on the top of whatever curve is fashionable, “the only poetry we came across was a rap on the lug, though I do see that the TV ads are now using poetry and raps to sell their sporting products to the modern audience.”

Everyone looked in awe at Mr Reid after that remark, His grasp of marketing jargon was certainly impressive and working in the Clansman shop had certainly widened his experience of the world view of Chinese tourists to say the least.

On the grounds that TV ads are modern and that a poet in residence would fit in with the ethos of a sport of which the governing body had engaged with four artists who would be working in the most unlikely locations, the Committee decided to get with the idea.

A quick plea was put out on Social Media- and to his and everyone's  surprise- the following verses dropped into the Wing Centre’s e-mail inbox within the week. It appeared to come from the Bard of Balmacaan- and its subject - that epic match between ‘Shiel and the Glen which took place over at Balgate at the end of the 2017 season. It was a game in which the Glen picked up a point when even Bill McAllister had predicted their defeat.

 

Hurrah for the Thin Red and Black Line

All Hail the conquering boys from Shiel

Who did the Premier title steal

At Mossfield Park on a Saturday.

Long may they enjoy their victor-ay!

But pause a moment by and by,

Take some time to wonder why

All this glorious season through

They stumbled at the number two

 

“Why so,good sir?” I hear you say

The answer’s here as plain as day.

At Blairbeg ‘Shiel failed to score

And lost two goals. Oh that was sore!

The Glen stood firm and broke their hearts.

Yet a greater blow was on the cards.

Over the hill at Blairbeg pitch

‘Shiel’s frontmen hit another hitch.

 

The Glen with half their team adrift

Put in another awesome shift

‘Shiel huffed and puffed and cursed and swore

But John just simply Barr-ed the door

And with young Ally at his best

Smack rarely faced a serious test.

Then Frostie’s goals made ‘Shiel upset:

Into the match they could not get.

 

 

Poor ‘Shiel were really in a jam

To lose both points would do them harm.

“Right,” said John. “They’ll need some aid.

We’ll have to help them, I’m afraid.”

 

So Ally was told to give a pen

To get ‘Shiel in the game again.

That 2-2 draw was just enough

To win ‘Shiel all that trophy stuff

 

That single point was gold indeed.

It was all that ‘Shiel would ever need

To win the Premier League at last

With all the fear and pressure past.

 

So well done Shiel,but keep in mind

Just how the Glenners were so kind

To let you have one point from four.

You were never getting any more.

 

There was of course an earlier poem about a win over Kyles written in an Argyllshire accent, harking back to the days when the inhabitants of Tighnabruaich were actually from Argyll.

Then there was of course a famous ditty from the Chieftain about the Sale of Work.

 

There was also the attempt by the Treasurer to persuade guys to hand in their old sticks by writing in the poetic style of Julia Donaldson

Give us back your stick, Mun!!      

“Stick Man Oh Stick Man just why are you sad?

At the start of the season you ought to be glad.

The teams are delighted and so should you be

To get back into shinty, if not to your tree”

 

 

“Alas,” says poor Stickman “that will happen no more

For here I’m abandoned behind the front door.

No longer permitted to take part in the game

Though I’m raring to go. It is such a shame.”

 

“Stick Man, Oh Stick Man just what can we do

To make use of the energy left inside you?

You do have a future. Still you can play -

But to get you involved just what can we say?”

 

“Get on to the players who’ve packed up the game

To return me to Sticky without any blame.

I’ll find a new master- and then I’ll be set

To get back to my shinty; there’s goals in me yet.”

 

    (With half-hearted apologies to Julia Donaldson and none to Axel Scheffler)

 

So there you go. It was an appeal from the heart. With the price of shinty clubs going through the roof the call went out to all former shinty players of whatever age to give back their unused clubs. The Glen now have more teams than ever - both boys and girls- so we desperately needed sticks so all can play. Most players have more than one shinty stick lying around at home - and while they  might require one to fend off the occasional burglar- the others could  surely be used to help out the Club that provided  them in the first place.

Did it work? Who can say?  We still need clubs - and beyond that,maybe we need to gather up all our shinty verse as well and put it in a book to hand down to future generations, to recoin a phrase the Wing Centre heard recently. Perhaps next week we'll hunt out more poems from the vault. Few would be averse to that.