It’s ok, you’re allowed to like other sports
As was often the case, there was a single radio in this particular townland, so a dozen or so men gathered outside of a friend’s window on the first Sunday in September.
There, the charitable neighbour placed the radio on the sill so the group could listen to the game described from Croke Park, while outside on the street.
The hurling fans happily and empathetically pulled on every ball that was described, imagined clearly every scramble in the goalmouth in front of Hill 16 and roared every point their county tapped over in Dublin.
Then, late in the game, when the commentator explained in hushed tones that one player was about to attempt a sideline cut between the posts to win the game and Liam MacCarthy, one of the radio listeners shouted: ‘Jesus lads, stand back and give him a bit of room!’ You’d nearly know what he means these days.
With all the activity online — on your phone, Facebook, Twitter — during sporting events, one would almost want to tell people to stand back and give the games themselves room to breathe.
I drove to Dublin last Sunday night, getting on the road late, missing the start of that watercooler TV event, the Super Bowl.
There’s a real cohort of gridiron fans in this country I’ve found, hooked on tales of the ’85 Chicago Bears and others from when RTÉ showed a weekly highlights package almost two decades ago. Those in Montrose later replaced the American import with a Monday night Serie A highlights package. I grew up with an appreciation for Signori and Savicevic while those a few years older talked of Singletary and Sweetness.
In past years, I’m told, American football fans in this country would have had to wait six days before they’d see — if they were lucky — the highlights of the showpiece game during the following weekend.
Others, I’m sure, rang friends and family in America for results. Sometimes RTÉ radio might mention it on Morning Ireland.
Last Sunday? I was able to fire up a free mobile phone application, plug it into my car stereo and listen to the game on US radio as I bypassed towns like Durrow and Abbeyleix. The future is now.
When I reached my destination — many miles from my own beloved satellite dish — I cracked open the laptop, logged into my TV provider account and watched it like I was still on my couch. This is why Kennedy sent Americans to space... and why so many in Ireland now enjoy America’s game: access.
This year’s Super Bowl set the record for the most tweets sent per second. Essentially, it seemed, everyone with an iPhone and a Twitter account decided to share their thoughts on the football, Madonna and the TV coverage.
And why not, sure? But amongst the white noise of chatter was a thread of comment from those who, inexplicably, sat amid the haze of a computer screen, late into a school night to crib and moan about this alien game.
Meet this most familiar of sports fan: those who absolutely wears his single-mindedness like a medal on his lapel. ‘I only like soccer’, ‘I’m a hurling snob’, ‘I was reared on rugby’ ‘that’s all I’ll watch or play’.
There’s not as many of them around anymore in this country thankfully but there are still those who think that a love of sport is like a blanket that’s a little bit too short for your body; if you pull it up, it’ll expose your feet; drag down and you’ll catch a chest cold.
No, there’s plenty of it to go around. One is not betraying your soccer roots if you turn your face westwards and watch another land’s game for a few hours a week. You’re no less a fior Gael if you appreciate Messi and co on a Sunday night after the Sunday Game. In fact, I’d argue, a broad palette increases your understanding and enjoyment of all games. As one Fr Jack Hackett would say: “It’s an ecumenical matter.” And sport is a broad church.
* Contact: adrianjrussell@gmail.com Twitter: @adrianrussell
