Seán Óg told: It’s over
Seán Óg O hAilpín, GAA hero, swoon-inducing pin-up and all-round sound man, is hanging up his inter-county shirt, leaving fans bereft in his wake.
The news broke like the shattering of a thousand hurleys as lovers of the game and the player alike struggled to picture Cork in action without Seán Óg in the thick of it.
Stadiums split like a 1960s dancehall whenever he lined out, half the crowd enthralled by his six feet two inch frame of lean muscle, his dark curls and chocolately eyes; the other half in awe of his speed, strength and precision – and the way he enthralled the first half.
There was talk that he would be forced to play in a balaclava to counteract unfair competitive advantage, because squaring up to his megawatt smile was like playing into the sun. There was talk that stewards would be issued with smelling salts to revive the young ladies who would slip helplessly to the ground whenever his exotic figure came within lassoing distance.
But now the talk is all about the games he will no longer play, the hearts he will no more make flutter and the manager who had the neck to tell a legend to leave the pitch.
Denis Walsh may as well have told Father Christmas his time was up and, while his past contribution to global happiness was much appreciated, he’d no longer be required for all that sleigh-driving business going forward.
How could he do it? Seán Óg is the man who made GAA multicultural, who made Irish sexy, who made a seething nation not want to roast every bank official on the spit.
He made teetotal totally cool, made celebrity honourable and made as many appearances for charity gigs as GAA matches. And when asked that time-honoured question: so, do ye have any brothers?, he was even able to answer yes, yes and yes again.
Children will go into school crestfallen. Grown men will cry. Women will resort to retail therapy.
And Denis Walsh may have to go into the witness protection programme.
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