Keeping an eye and ear on effin’ Eddie’s Glensmen
The boys from the Glen will, of course, forever be associated with Eddie Moroney’s freewheeling commentary which accompanies the videotape of the 1992 U21 final between Aherlow and Éire Óg Nenagh, one of those screen gems which could do with half-a-dozen remastered versions (Aherlow-Éire Óg the Director’s Cut; the Extended Edition; Redux).
Because the video predated the internet – the clue is in the term ‘video’ itself – it generated a buzz by word of mouth a Hollywood studio would kill for. Yours truly was in California when a copy made its way to the west coast, and sidled along to a bar in San Francisco to see if it lived up to the hype.
Through a haze induced by what Eddie would have termed “some feed” of Anchor Steam, the video didn’t just live up to the hype; the hype was buried, waked and outlived by the reality of the entertainment.
Men fell off stools. The VCR had to be paused innumerable times to administer oxygen. I saw people actually drink their tears with laughter.
When Eddie roared “Ref for Jaysus sake that’s a f––g penalty,” I thought the constabulary were going to be called; when the great man belched so loudly you could practically taste the red lemonade being released into the atmosphere the constabulary were begging for a break to regain their breath.
Aherlow take on Dr Crokes in the Munster club championship. They won’t lack neutral support.
A different club scene last Wednesday night in Ennis, with the launch of Christy O’Connor’s new book. ‘The Club’ tracks O’Connor and his St Joseph’s Doora-Barefield teammates through a traumatic season, as the author and his wife lose a child and two stalwart club members die unexpectedly.
Expect to see the words ‘raw’ and ‘honest’ in practically every description of the book.
Chatting to one of the St Joseph’s lads, he said he had no doubt Christy would write a fine book but outside Clare, and maybe diehard hurling fans, would people be interested in a story focused on the minutae of their club?
The answer, of course, is that the forensic details of club meetings, dressing-room arguments and disputes over coaches aren’t confined to St Joseph’s, to Clare, or even to the GAA.
Any member of a sports club will recognise the archetypal figures on show in the book.
The larger-than-life personality with a quip for every occasion. The implacable opponents eventually cast down after years of supremacy. The old gunslinger coaxed out of retirement against his better judgment. The youngster who shows his mettle at exactly the right time.
In an odd way the book reminded your columnist of Jim Bouton’s Ball Four, an account of life with the New York Yankees which raised eyebrows for its frank description of professional baseball players’ activities off the field of play. O’Connor’s book doesn’t follow that template (though the venue which draws the second-biggest attendance on All-Ireland final weekends, Copperface Jack’s, does get a mention).
Bouton closed his book with a famous summation of what baseball meant to him: ‘You see, you spend a good piece of your life gripping a baseball and in the end it turns out that it was the other way around all the time.’
That’s the thing about a GAA club. You spend a good piece of your life thinking you’re part of a club, but in the end it turns out it was the other way around all the time.
* contact: michael.moynihan@examiner.ie; Twitter: MikeMoynihanEx
