What Cusack, O’Neill and Duffy come up with should constitute plenty of change for now.

The New York ladies football team did the tour of Croke Park a month ago.

IT’S hard to avoid this repeated hand wringing about the NFL and its inability to stay opaque in our overwhelmingly transparent era of journalism.

Over the weekend, multiple hearts were broken across the NFL, as fringe players were told they wouldn’t be making their respective teams’ final 53-man squads.

The Junior B Football game scheduled for the first day of the North American Finals at the end of this month stands out: Cayman Islands v Raleigh (North Carolina).

Not many of us are naturally inclined towards coaching kids during our selfish twenties.

That’s what you call a statement of intent; New York City FC signing striker David Villa on Monday was an impactful moment.

I chanced upon an early morning softball game in a park near where I live on Sunday.

Bryant ‘Peewee’ Cruz’s life changed when a local policeman took him off the Port Chester streets and hand delivered him to a boxing gym called Champs in New Rochelle, just north of New York City.

“It’s very… American, isn’t it?” Baseball is a cornerstone of Americana that has helped me get past that attitude.

Most basketball fans with even the slightest bit of self-respect become worn out pretty quickly by whatever the New York Knicks are selling.

Rashard Mendenhall kind of wanted to disappear, he told the world this past Sunday.

No wonder baseball is held so close to American hearts.

The old school shut another one of its doors when Johnny Murphy passed away in February.

Not for the first time, I’m holding my hand up to acknowledge that America is chipping away at what I used to hold dear.

The first time I got to touch the Sam Maguire was in October 1990 when he and Liam MacCarthy came to visit Blackrock Hurling Club.

The NFL has an uncanny way of sharpening the focus of vested interests.

OUT ON a hurling field temporarily set up for a hot afternoon of competition in New Jersey recently, the big NYPD detective who had offered to stand in goal for us explained why he was better than we’d expected.

Word of warning: this is a column about the media and the people charged with keeping them at bay.

Saturday morning in Houston, Texas and it’s already too hot for rugby or anything really.

I guess part of me was just afraid.

Players could legally work for up to one year in the country within the field or whatever related activity can be created under the realm of the GAA.

Next February, the first cold-weather outdoor Super Bowl will take place in New Jersey’s MetLife Stadium.

I was extremely confident last summer that when, in this column, I revealed my return to hurling after a 15-year absence, I would be opening myself up to an onslaught of well deserved ridicule.

Greg Lalas wrote a powerful piece a few years back in Soccer America about how he took the decision at the age of 24 to leave professional soccer.

There was a good reason for Shane O’Neill’s decision to politely decline an invitation in January to try his luck with the Republic of Ireland U21 side.

It would be easy to enjoy a mini-rant about Juan Manuel Marquez’s miraculous sixth round recovery to land the punch of the year but there are more than enough inches cascading down upon the 39-year-old’s reputation.

Despite the lofty reputation of Irish boxing wherever there happens to be a ring and a bell, if undefeated Tallaght featherweight Patrick ‘The Punisher’ Hyland wins in Las Vegas on Saturday night, he would join a small and exclusive club of world champions.

Yet another sign that I’ve been in America too long — now it’s an NFL coach giving me a lump in the throat.

Late last night in Miami, the old F Scott Fitzgerald adage about no second acts gracing American lives was given a run for its money by an inconsequential game between the New York Mets and the Miami Marlins.

One of the many thankless tasks at live sporting events is held by the lonely soul singing the anthem.

It’s been quite the week for contrived crises over national identity.

Sports personalities in Boston always have a one-way ticket to Palookaville in their back pocket.

When the email from the Orlando Hurling Club in Florida popped into my inbox a few weeks back, I wasn’t sure how to respond.

I was never much of a hurler and abandoned the game as a 16-year-old, worn out from the summers of sorrow that went hand in hand with being a member of the worst underage Blackrock team in living memory.

The Mexican drug cartels operating with alarming bloodlust around the hinterlands of El Paso, Texas have promised there’ll be a one-day truce on Saturday, June 16.

Pete Flynn is firmly ensconced in retirement now so I decided to reconnect with him on Monday.

George’s career hadarrived at the all-or-nothing stage. If he didn’t win here, he didn’t know what he was going to do with his life. This was a truly broken man.

I’M so late that the ticket seller at St Peter’s College in Jersey City offers to leave me in for free.

IT’S time to bury the memory of the 2011 villains. The Sepp Blatters and the Joe Paternos who use and abuse sport to massage their own medieval egos.

THE stats don’t get a chance to lie when it comes to Robbie Keane’s first term as an LA Galaxy player.

LAST night was due to be the start of the new NBA season in the US.

THERE’S STILL a bit of life yet in Broadway as it rushes north past Gaelic Park, snaking endlessly up through the Bronx, barely noticing the humble theatre that New York GAA shares with Manhattan College.

WHEN Casey Stengel was fired by the New York Yankees just days after Bill Mazeroski’s game-winning home run secured a dramatic 1961 World Series for the Pittsburgh Pirates, the legendary manager was informed he was too old to continue in the post.