Boys in green bear no resemblance to heroes of yore

When it comes to ranking my shameful confessions, this one doesn’t quite make it to the top spot.

Jostling for attention there? Try the occasion I was sent to cover a Gaelic football game a couple of years ago. Early on I almost blurted out: “Why’s the keeper not taking the kick-out from the edge of the small square?” Another candidate for inclusion? The evening in Limerick when I sat down with Conor O’Shea and, as a warmer-upper, asked how he was enjoying life at the RFU.

“It was great but I’m gone out of there a year now,” was the reply (that was a long half-hour: O’Shea was kindness personified, but do you know how much sweat a man can shed in the aftermath of a gaffe like that?). No, this is not on that level, though given the context it’s up around there.