Eimear Ryan: We lionise 'shoulders' so there’s no point in acting appalled now
Eoghan McLaughlin falls to the ground after a challenge from Dublin’s John Small that left the Mayo man with a broken jaw. The GAA has created the circumstances in which this type of dark arts strategy is rewarded year after year, argues our columnist.
Shoulder to shoulder. It’s not just a lyric from a rugby anthem, but a GAA rallying call. Almost a way of life. You see it all the time: Players halted by the referee’s whistle after making a tackle, then turning to him to protest. Shoulder to shoulder, ref! Pointing at or patting the joint in question really brings the point home.
Maybe, like me, you’ve watched a game of hurling or football in the company of someone not brought up in the GAA, and they’ve raised an eyebrow regarding a particular tackle. Maybe someone was in possession of the ball, edging the sideline or endline, trying to keep it in play, and they were unceremoniously sent sprawling to the cheers of the crowd. More than that, they’re penalised for being upended: Possession reverts to the other team. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” we say to our newbie friend, quickly disabusing them of their qualms. “It was shoulder to shoulder.”
We cling to it like a cure-all, but it’s a misleading phrase. First of all, it describes a whole spectrum of contact, from tussling to full-on body checks.
Secondly, it conjures up a sense of a level playing field, of two players contesting a ball with physicality and fairness. But we’ve seen time and again that players are often not on equal footing during a shoulder-to-shoulder encounter. Often, one player is playing the ball while the other is playing the man. Sometimes one of them is stooping, coming up from gathering the ball, and in a vulnerable position. Sometimes, the player in possession is blindsided. Sometimes, he breaks his jaw.
There’s an issue of player protection here that’s growing ever more urgent as the sport continues to evolve. Maybe this rule was grand in a different age when lads were lighter, but now they’re built like marines.
I’m not sure the GAA can continue to give carte blanche to players to hit an opponent as hard as they like, without any real attempt to win the ball, and regardless of whether the opponent sees them coming. Shoulder to shoulder can’t be the only criterion for a fair tackle.
In recent years the GAA has shown an admirable ability to move with the times and adapt the rules accordingly; does the shoulder tackle need to be amended for modern conditions?
It was unedifying, last weekend, to read so much Twitter commentary expressing admiration and enjoyment of John Small’s ‘ferocious hit’ on Eoghan McLaughlin. It was easy to see which users have played sport and which haven’t. It takes more courage to do what McLaughlin did, which was grab the ball at close quarters, knowingly leaving himself open, than to bury a fella whose eyes were on the ball.
That said, I think it’s unhelpful to heap all of our ire onto John Small. He’s a symptom of the problem, not its cause. It would be too convenient to deal with this situation by demonising individuals rather than examining the overall culture of the game — and our complicity in it.
We can all have our opinions about Small’s conduct on the pitch, but ultimately he’s operating under the GAA’s conditions. The association has created the circumstances in which this type of dark arts strategy is rewarded year after year. And then there’s the rest of us, cheering when someone is shouldered into the stands, savouring the ‘big hits’. We lionise this type of behaviour, so there’s no point in acting all shocked and appalled now.
Equally, instead of tearing strips off the referee, we should focus on solutions to avoid situations like McLaughlin’s horrific injuries in the future. Conor Lane made bad calls, but he’s just one subjective person with two eyes. Scrolling the timeline on Saturday evening, I had the benefit of the Twitter hive mind and the multiple camera angles of the Croke Park panopticon. There was the time Small picked the ball up off the ground. James McCarthy’s elbow into Diarmuid O’Connor’s throat on a restart. Players being dropped left and right.
The damning digital evidence piled up, but a referee doesn’t have anything close to that perspective. Even if he had made the right decisions for everything that happened in front of him, there were still a litany of off-the-ball incidents that he could never have seen. Add in the roiling atmosphere of the cauldron of Croke Park, and who wouldn’t lose focus?
The GAA doesn’t provide a whole lot more protection to its refs than it does its players. Yes, he has umpires and linesmen at his disposal, but they’re not as empowered as he is: It ultimately all comes down to one person. We accept that players, no matter how talented, will occasionally have off days, but we don’t extend this generosity of spirit to referees.
In all honesty, who among us would take on this role? Who would bring this hassle upon themselves?
I often wonder if the gradual computerisation of refereeing will be a good thing, in the long run.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m as frustrated by VAR’s millimetre calls as anyone. There’s a hesitancy now when a soccer player scores a goal — you can practically hear him thinking ‘can I celebrate yet?’ I’m glad that Hawkeye only judges the position of the ball, not players; though as a Tipp woman, I’m convinced there’s an alternate timeline in which Tipperary are the 2014 All-Ireland champions.
Technology is pitiless.
It doesn’t take into account factors like intent or track record (though, when you come out the wrong side of a bad tackle, your opponent’s intent might not matter to you one way or another).
But it’s also not susceptible to the human bias that we’re all guilty of, even when we’re consciously trying to be impartial.
And maybe it’s better for us, as the audience, to direct our ire at a computer, rather than a flawed human being doing their best in impossible circumstances.
