To Bandon and the Hurling-at last.

Episode 3

A calm Saturday morning in Cork with a game against Bandon GAA in the afternoon. What would professional sportsmen do? A relaxing time is required. The lads went for a walk as far as the Wing Centre could see- so nothing controversial there.

As for himself the only other experience he needed was to go into the Auction House of Joseph Woodward & Sons Ltd on Cook Street which was pretty close to the centre of town and have a look round.

As a pastime going to an Auctioneers without any money is only slightly above tuning into a Zoom committee meeting and comparing the various versions of lockdown hair that the human cranium can create. However, at this auction - or indeed at any auction - I immediately began to regret that I had not taken Ali Mac (senior) along with me. Only he would have been able to tell me whether the table that I put my feet up on was worth more than my Clarks Nature Three Brown Leather Shoes or not. The guys in the Auction House evidently thought so- and it seemed that every chair I chose to sit in had been sold already and was about to be picked up and so I would have to move. This rule did not seem to affect many of the other clients, although one well-dressed fellow wearing a tweed cap seemed to get the same treatment. I suspect he was from Dublin. On the other hand, maybe he should have taken the cap off because he was indoors and in the presence of ladies.

Old Ali would have given me a bogus authority as I walked around. He actually knows about antiques – and he’s the only one I know who actually once won a genuine gold medal.

In Woodward’s, the silver stuff looked quite good and you could probably transport it back home in a club first aid kit. I was looking at a table of the stuff as if I meant business – and a fellow came alongside me and slipped anchor.

“Silver?” said I with a rising inflection which would imply a question even in Kiltarlity. This was Cork.

“Are you telling me?” said he. It’s a cultural thing thought I so I’ll join him.

“I am that,” said I.

“I knew already,” he replied.

I resolved to bid against him, beat the price up and then pull out leaving him with some overpriced rubbish to explain to his missus.

In the end when it did come to the bid – and I tried to do it-I was disqualified because I had forgotten about the fact I needed to register for a card.

Keeping my nerve, I announced “Just forgot to pick up the old card”- and walked to the entrance corridor towards the office counter and when everyone had turned back to concentrate on the bidding for the next lot then I slipped out into the street taking my confusion with me.

By the time the Wing Centre reached Jury’s Inn, Gene, with his young son who was a hurling goalkeeper - was waiting with the bus and the team quickly piled aboard. A quick journey out of the city through some green countryside and we quickly became aware of Bandon through the bus window on the far side of what must be a fine fishing river which Ali Mac (Senior) confessed he would like to have tried a net on. It was in fact the River Bandon and it is a fine salmon river so Ali Mac’s instincts were right.

We did not actually enter Bandon but pulled up at an excellent sporting complex named as we later learned “Charlie Hurley Park”. There we were warmly greeted by Club President Ian Doyle and one of his office bearers Neilus McCarthy and after a brief interlude to allow the Glen lads an opportunity to get changed, warm up and have a look at the pitch (huge-in comparison with a shinty park) the game got under way. Before it did however, former Glenner Stuart Reid who works as a fitness coach with the G.A.A. at the Bandon Club and one or two others took time out to explain the compromise rules to his Irish charges. Apart from Ronald Ross and Gary Reid, Stuart is probably the only man in the shinty world to fully understand these rules - and that includes referees Scottish and Irish who have ever reffed one of those fixtures.

It certainly didn’t look as if the Irish lads fully comprehended the rules because to the Wing Centre’s consternation - and this is sincerely and genuinely meant-the Glen began to run away with the contest completely overwhelming the hapless Bandon Club in the first half despite the fact that the Bandon guys were by far the better looking as a bunch of athletes.

Frostie Macpherson had a crazy afternoon. Benefiting from the large pitch and from the fact that the Irish players were inexperienced as to  how close they would really have to stand to him his ferocity and accuracy of shooting saw him rattle in six goals that were simply too quick for the Irish keeper to deal with - and although Bandon had some nice plays and showed good movement,  they contented themselves with picking up a few over the bar scores  from distance which should have counted for one point each (though as we shall see there was confusion over this).

When they stood close to Frostie he very cleverly fed his other front men so that before the break Oliver Black, Jed Stoddart, Eddie Tembo and Lewis Macdonald had also hit goals. That plus four other over the bar points (two from open play and a deadball) meant that we were out of sight. It was very hard to believe what we were seeing. It was not a particularly experienced Glen side - few apart from Conor Golabek, Jed Stoddart , Finlay Robertson , Cameron MacIntosh and Oliver Black- had any athletic energy to compare with the Irish lads but they didn’t need it. Get the ball up front and a goal was assured.

By the time the whistle blew the Glen had 34 points on the board.

The second half though was a different story as the Irish lads  began to get the hang of the game and they began to gradually peg us back  chipping the lead back until by the end of the game their claim was that they had won the game having 5 goals and 13 strikes over the bar. Trouble was that Mr Doyle and co had not been listening to Stuart Reid when he had explained the rules. As a result, they had given themselves two points for every hit over the bar.

Because they are such an efficient club they had the following Facebook post up and running before you could say “Charlie Hurley”.

Shinty hurling made its debut in Charlie Hurley park today & what a great afternoon it was on & off the pitch. Our visitors from Glen Urquhart Shinty Club started the game well & raced into the lead. It took our Bandon team a while to get used to the compromise rules but they rallied in the second half and ran out winners in the end. Those watching enjoyed the game & some of our young Camogie & hurling players had fun trying out the shinty sticks after the game. Refreshments were served in the Pavilion Bar after the match and presentations made. A most enjoyable evening.
Thank you to our own adopted Scot, Stuart Reid for organising the match with help from Neilus McCarthy & Paddy Cahalane. We wish our friends from Glen Urquhart a safe trip home tomorrow.

 

Indeed, it was only when El Presidente was being interviewed by the Bandon Club’s digital journalist guy Donnacha that the full horror of the situation came over him. What had been a tight 34-29 win for the Glen suddenly became a 41-34 defeat.

There was a quick consultation and lo-the Bandon score fell into step with reality and the Glen was on top as was only right.

However in the interests of international and inter Celtic harmony- and to be sure of getting a drink in the social club-the discussion between Chairman G and Mr Doyle concluded with the game being called a draw by reclassifying five single pointers as 5 double pointers.

An honourable draw having been declared we were allowed in for sandwiches and both teams mingled together freely in the “comradeship of a shared Celtic sport.”

Given that the club will never be back in Ireland again without going through passport controls and needing special health insurance- and probably a jab for yellow fever as well- the night in the Bandon clubhouse is a memory to cherish.

Garry handed over a shinty stick , a Glen strip , a bottle of Auchentoshan and made an excellent speech which was well received by our hosts who replied in similar vein and handed over a Bandon strip , a stick or two and one supposes some other stuff which the Wing Centre who took copious notes all the time cannot read in his journo pad because the pen ran out of ink.

Which means that for an account of the rest of the evening one will have to rely on the two old staples of journalism-imperfect memory and lively imagination. The folk in the club were lovely people - they were worried about the effects of Brexit. The Wing Centre comforted them with the thought that the Germans would look out for them. They weren’t keen on the North joining them in a united country.

Again, the Wing Centre comforted them by reminding the Germans had successfully managed it- and they had only been divided for about 25 years less than Ireland. A couple of whiskies and never had the Saxon DNA which courses through the Wing Centre’s veins ever been so fluent.

Did any of this happen? Who can say because there is nothing in the notebook and the night drove on ‘wi sangs and clatter’ but before it could get out of hand and we all headed off to an afterhours party in a remote farmhouse followed by a hoolie in the Ballroom of Romance at some equally remote crossroads, the President stepped in to restore sanity and we found ourselves back on Gene’s magic bus.

In no time at all we were back in Cork and Bandon had disappeared-probably never to return like Brigadoon until another 100 years had passed.

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First we go on the Drink and then we go to the Dogs.

Episode 2

We left our intrepid party outside the Welcome Inn on the corner of Parnell Place, Cork with the words of an improbable Kinlochshiel supporter ringing in their ears. What happened next would have been the stuff of legend but decorum bids one say…... no why should the truth be hidden? The sponsors demand clarity and clarity is what they and the public will get.

We walked our way back to the Jury’s Inn along the side of the River Lee- and not particularly salubrious it was if you kept your eyes open. En route the journey takes you past a Homeless Shelter and the inhabitants - poor souls - were hanging about with their gear. As far as one could make out none of our own lads were hanging about with them - yet.

At Jury’s we were picked up by Jean/Gene in his bus and taken to the Jameson Distillery. There we were to undergo the Jameson Experience. The Distillery is based at  Midleton  which is about 6/7 miles out of Cork City Centre and the tour explains the history of Jameson Whiskey and the distillery that operated before it was produced there. The Old Midleton Distillery in which the Jameson Experience is located began life as a woollen mill, before being converted to a military barracks and subsequently a distillery in 1825. The distillery operated until 1975, when a new distillery was constructed alongside it to house the consolidated operations of three former whiskey-making rivals, John Jameson & Son, John Powers & Son, and Cork Distilleries Company (original owners of the Midleton Distillery), who had come together to form Irish Distillers in 1966 The tour includes a film, and walking tour, in which the group was How does the Wing Centre know all this stuff? Easy. He read the posters on the walls, took notes and when he was sure that no-one was looking he helped himself to a leaflet.

We get off the bus- we go in and there with El Presidente and Goalie Smack in the lead (funny how the goalies always team up together to get to the front of the queue in a Distillery - just like the pipers in a band).

There we counterfeited interest in loading bays, grain stores, bits of twisted copper pipe and stacks of barrels while being led through a dark labyrinth by a smart colleen who had drawn the short straw in that morning’s tour party lottery. As we passed other tour parties their leaders look smug and complacent and smiled a grin at her as she plodded stoically on giving her spiel which included temperatures and the whole afternoon, worts and all, must have been excruciating for her.

We had the tricky questions for her - as all Scots know everything about whisky.

“Where do you store the peat?” Trick question - but she was ready for it.

“We don’t use peat to heat the mash. Back in the day we used anthracite coal from Wales just over there.” She pointed out beyond the yard where Wales presumably lay filled with whiskey producing coal. Its clear that Irish independence when it came in 1921 did nothing to prevent the supply of anthracite to the Distillery

“Why do you spell whiskey that way not our way - Whisky?”

The colleen had an answer too “We go with the American way - its more modern. On the other hand, just look at how we spell Midleton.”

None of the lads had noticed.

In the end after showing us Sandy Ross’s the Distillery Manager’s House- (all the Master Distillers were Rosses - descended from a Highlander presumably, by his surname, from Glenmorangie) she eventually took us to the only place anyone who goes on a whisky/whiskey tour wants to go - the tasting room.

There we were allowed to sample - a rubbish American grain whiskey, a rough Scottish blend and a top of the range Jameson.

“Which was best?” Colleen wanted to know.

As if we would say.

Naturally we all chose Jameson in the hope of getting some more which we did – and then some more again this time for the Wing Centre in the form of a very pleasant cocktail. There we met up with the two goalies who very sensibly had sneaked away from the tour in the darkness of the cellars and had spent the time “waiting” for the rest of us. Fortunately, we had the free drink tickets of the youngsters who were too young or too sensible to try a sample - truthfully whiskey is wasted on the young - and so a fine time was had by all.

Back to Jury’s Inn then and a quick change of jacket and we were off on Jean/Gene’s bus to the Dog Track at Curraheen. 

A nice little drive to the park and then a pleasant evening, betting on the races eating chips and mixing with the people. It was a family crowd - dozens of kids mingling with the punters and a whole evening’s entertainment for very little. A friendly crowd too with the kids especially - bless them - starting at the side of the track on the terracing and attempting to beat the dogs to the line as they entered the home straight. In my opinion no child ever won though it appeared that some of the older punters were betting on the kids races too. (Big up the pics to see)

All too soon we had to go: we were playing Bandon GAA in the morning and so the President decreed we had to get our beauty sleep. However, it dawned on the Wing Centre that he would not be playing so with zero requirement of beauty sleep for several reasons he set off to the Welcome Inn for some folksinging only to find half the team there ahead of him. The crowd were into Irish folk songs and clearly had a  restricted view of what Irish Folk Songs were – a request for Ronan’s “No Matter What” fell on deaf ears as did a request for Fergal Sharkey so we pushed off up the road to the “Oliver Plunkett” a music bar on surprisingly “Oliver Plunkett Street” where we found the rest of the team whom we had supposed were back in bed preparing psychologically for the game the next day. The President was there too. He said it was better he went with them than let them loose on their own. He was right.

“To pot with it” said the Wing Centre to himself – and promptly used his Dog Track winnings to buy a round. Its just as well it wasn’t real money.

On the way back to Jury’s the President shepherded the squad to a late night MacDonalds for some essential chips. At the door was a huge guy with a beard and wearing a black jacket. He was the bouncer to end all bouncers - he would have chucked Roy Keane clear into the River Lee.

“Hello Santa” said one of the squad.

He turned slowly to face the group. “It’s the lads,” said he. “Just you go in and stand in the queue nicely or you won’t be around to get anything for Christmas” He smiled politely and turned to assist some girls in a state of giggling inebriation who were trying to punch their order into a Digital Menu Board

We did what he said, ate the chips and then went home. It had been a long day.

In Episode 3 We all head off to Bandon in the green ……... for the big game

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