Michael Moynihan: Impressions of (half) the Allianz Hurling League

Limerick's Diarmaid Byrnes and Kyle Hayes. Limerick can put out a half-back line of Byrnes, Declan Hannon, and Hayes. As a rough indication of what opponents are dealing with — and specifically opposition goalkeepers who are looking for an option downfield in their vicinity — the three of them are 6-4, 6-2 and 6-5 respectively. Picture: INPHO/Tommy Dickson

A weekend without a hurling game for yours truly which means one thing. Time to reflect.

And giving Mare of Easttown a shot, given you’re all talking about it.

Two things, then.

Though one, really, because I couldn’t really take to the gloom of Mare of Easttown (can you move it along? — ed).

My half-time report in the hurling league is one of impressions.

One of the big readjustments last year was being able to hear the players and management on the field of play, and the absence of crowds this year means the encouragement and instruction remain audible.

And the shouters are back. Ciano. Fitzy. Paudie. Oz. The players’ nicknames and abbreviations are clear, as are management’s exhortations.

An informal ranking?

Tommy Dunne of Tipperary’s lungs are in good working order going on last Saturday’s experience, but every team I’ve seen so far has at least one good vocalist.

Still awaiting something along the lines of what happened in a game in Croke Park last year, though. A long delivery spilled harmlessly over the end line and in the wintry air the corner-forward could be heard telling the man out the field to put the f—ing ball in f—ing low the way he had been f—ing told.

We could hear something similar yet, I suppose.

What else?

The last game I saw was yesterday week in Walsh Park, a salty affair between Waterford and Limerick.

A few of the Limerick players filed past us on the stand side of the field, and each of them seemed bigger than the last.

Limerick’s size is now an article of faith, but without crowds at the games to see for themselves it may be difficult for some observers to appreciate just how big they are.

For instance, Limerick can put out a half-back line of Diarmaid Byrnes, Declan Hannon, and Kyle Hayes. As a rough indication of what opponents are dealing with — and specifically opposition goalkeepers who are looking for an option downfield in their vicinity — the three of them are 6-4, 6-2 and 6-5 respectively.

In comparison, the Irish rugby team that played England in this year’s Six Nations fielded a back row of CJ Stander, Jack Conan, and Josh van der Flier — 6-1, 6-4, and 6-1 respectively.

More?

The second-last game I was at was Tipperary-Galway last Saturday week, where the programme was virtual in form.

I know we’re all migrating online — this newspaper included — but it was striking how discombobulated yours truly was without a paper programme. The default position for anyone in a GAA stadium with a programme is to ink it mercilessly with scorers and substitutions, and my tech know-how doesn’t extend yet to marking (0-6, 0-2 frees, 0-1 65) on a laptop screen.

This is an accommodation everyone will eventually have to make, and it’s one with ramifications far beyond the earnest scribblers who attend national league matches religiously — for instance, programme sales are a significant source of revenue that GAA clubs and boards rely on.

Finally, and most important: the absence of stadium catering has been a sore trial for many members of the fourth estate, particularly in venues famed for their generosity.

Walsh Park has often run Semple Stadium close in its commitment to the traditional accompaniments to tea and coffee — Swiss rolls, plain digestives — though the Tipperary venue has held the upper hand in the sheer quantity of its sandwiches.

Credit to the Waterford venue for the last couple of weekends, however, in providing a small goodie bag of vital supplies for media attendees (contents: cheese and onion crisps, one bag; Jive, one bar; water, one bottle of; hand sanitiser, one small jar of; banana, one).

The bar has been raised. Other venues please copy and respond accordingly. Perhaps with Jive (two bars).

Cork GAA and money. Once again.

News broke in these pages at the weekend of the discovery of seven accounts, containing almost two hundred thousand euro, by the executive of the Cork County Board.

A few people were in touch with me about it, and I have to confess that I could come up with nothing better than borrowing from one of the greatest — Andy Williams’ opening line from the theme to Love Story.

Where do I begin?

Cork GAA’s financial problems in recent years have been chronicled in detail here, but time, space, and the finite patience of our readers mean even a quick summary of those troubles is beyond us.

However, it is worth pointing out that there has been progress of a sort in Cork.

For instance, Cork officials working in tandem with their own audit and risk committee is a step forward in and of itself.

In December 2019 we revealed that this audit and risk committee had to threaten to resign en masse after advising the executive to inform delegates at that year’s annual convention that the board’s deficit was over €2.4m — not the €560,000 figure given to delegates at the convention.

The audit and risk committee didn’t resign then because of the potential reputational damage to Cork if it did so, but quite a few questions remain from that episode, questions never satisfactorily answered. Now there are even more questions to be answered. I await with interest the board’s clarification.

Rugby hacks and precious words

What is it with rugby and JRR Tolkien?

During the week I noted that a journalist in South Africa was less than complimentary about the Lions squad to face the Springboks shortly: “(Coach Warren) Gatland has picked hobbits to be giant slayers, and he has far too many Neville Nobodies in his squad of 37.”

Neville Nobodies is not a term I would myself trumpet to all and sundry, but hobbits?

I found an echo here of a putdown from a New Zealand hack when England beat the All Blacks in 2003 — “white orcs on steroids” was the description used then.

Why Tolkien’s work is used as a fallback when disparaging opponents I don’t know, but it’s disappointing to see the reporters in the southern hemisphere go for such obvious comparisons. When we see references to the Fall of Beleriand or how Ecthelion of the Fountain defeated Gothmog, then I’ll take these rugby scribes seriously.

Bittman’s worrying truths for us to digest

A pal pointed me towards a new book by Mark Bittman — Animal, Vegetable, Junk: A History of Food, From Sustainable to Suicidal and I’m torn between gratitude and depression.

Our consumption of stuff that’s not good for us is on the rise; the hard facts behind that don’t make for easy reading. “Global sugar consumption has nearly tripled in the past half-century,” Bittman writes, and the number of people all over the world living with diabetes has quadrupled since 1980.

His focus on the US leads to head-shaking moments: since the Second World War, US chicken production has increased by more than 1,400%, but the number of farms producing those birds has fallen. By 98%.

Read it and weep. Or at least think twice about dinner.

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