All water under the bridge as Etihad GAA World Games highlight best of GAA
The GAA must always let water flow under the bridge in order to prosper, and this past weekend’s Etihad GAA World Games enjoyed enough goodwill and an uncommon lack of dispute to keep everything flowing nicely.
The lack of water in Abu Dhabi was a physical and figurative context — their limited supply must be recycled into a salty mess on a constant basis.
I’ll return to the single trickle of water under the New York bridge. Overall, the crew that left JFK what seems a month ago couldn’t have been happier. As I wrote last week, that was the whole point for me.
Not even four hours of a snowbound Tuesday rush hour traffic jam could unsettle us. The Etihad flight attendants made a fuss over us, pleased to acquiesce to my demands to keep the players loaded up with water. And everything from there on was laid on impeccably. Every little detail taken care of and no stone unturned.
Of course it’s impossible to please everyone and as per usual, there was a bemused volunteer or two who was able to scoff at the handful of critics.
On Saturday night, for example, I congratulated one of the Middle East County Board officials on a job well done and done beyond reproach.
There had been a crest of good vibrations surging through the main hall of the closing ceremony at that moment. Aogán Ó Fearghail had just been cheered off the stage like an All-Ireland-winning captain after a surreal but oddly appropriate rendition of Oró Sé do Bheatha ‘bhaile.
It led me to remark to the aforementioned official that the entire speeches section went ridiculously well.
A singing uachtarán was only one element of it. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house when the international division teams of the tournament were announced. First up was the Galician ladies team goalkeeper whose tears of joy encapsulated the entire event for me. The way the South Africans danced in utter joy when one of their ladies and two of their men were called to the stage was truly breathtaking.
And how the Argentinian men — coached energetically by Pat Spillane — had any emotions left after their extra-time victory that afternoon in the international final is beyond me. But they did, and on that stage, they displayed the sort of joy you associate with their colourful soccer history.
You can’t ask for any more, I suggested naively to the organiser. He agreed, beaming, adding: “I only got abused once coming off the stage.”
Water immediately under the bridge.
I wouldn’t change a thing about our own experience, although stressing about keeping our own show on the road removed much of the overall enjoyment.
There was of course one small exchange I got caught up in which I think I’d regret not mentioning before letting it flow under the bridge. I’m hoping it’ll back up my overall point that players from Galicia, Argentina and South Africa should be the true focal points of the future of this concept.
The GAA president took the opportunity at the opening ceremony to announce his vision of a 2016 Games in Dublin in order to commemorate 1916.
That’s understandable of course. One word of caution though for what it’s worth: the most popular world gatherings in sport have always benefited from the steady quadrennial drip feed of their spectacles. The GAA would do well to let this pot simmer than boil over.
We Irish born and bred saw what it meant to the international division and I think most of us were there to participate more than anything else. I was fielding questions all weekend about why New York’s best men’s team wasn’t in attendance. I couldn’t have been happier with the lads we brought and the all-important budget was kept in check because of the route we took.
However, a couple of the travelling teams didn’t go home as happy — they had chosen their panels according to restrictions communicated to them. The beneficiaries of all these unwritten rules were the two Middle East teams, who chose their panels based on highly competitive trials. They were free to pick from Middle East players who were intercounty standard in all but the reality of their location.
We were demolished in the semi-final on Saturday by the Middle East 1 team. When I suggested to one of their team officials — another name I’ll keep to myself — that maybe the message should come from him that a point was as good as a goal at that late stage, he made a motion that clearly encapsulated a foot stomping on a neck: “when it’s down, you keep it down”.
A minor setback and water under the bridge now I’m able to appreciate those Galician and Argentinian tears of joy which flowed later that night.
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