Selling gaelic games to the right buyers
Little urged the abolition of points, which he considered a needless reward for inaccuracy. He also wanted a discouragement of handling by means of the award of free-kicks to the opposition, a ban on ‘hatching’ via some form of offside rule and, to free up a little space, the reduction in team numbers to, say, 11.
In case this proved too drastic, he was happy to contract pitch size.
As an optional extra, to provide an opportunity to showcase the extraordinary fitness levels the game prided itself on, Little also suggested increasing the length of a half to 45 minutes. The other half could also expand, for the sake of symmetry.
The reasoning seemed sound, but it was ignored then. And remains so now, even as the sport’s unhappy devotees propose all manner of nips and tucks and fixes to try and dress it up into something presentable.
Nothing will ever be done, of course, and shouldn’t be done, because it is difficult to imagine a functioning society where people didn’t have giving out about Gaelic football to fall back on, to pass the time.
But for a people that have remained relentlessly pessimistic all these years, there is an almost touching optimism in some of the solutions currently being proposed.
The notion, for instance, that officials might be able to monitor the number of players in a particular half of the field is a good one, when you have umpires who mightn’t notice a couple of fellas exchanging what Ger Canning would call ‘pleasantries’ a few yards in front of them.
Even if they were able to keep track of it, in a game where referees must already ignore roughly 95% of all fouls, to maintain any kind of flow to the thing, how long before the four-forward rule became the ah-sure-there-was-two-and-another-lad-was-doing-his-level-best guideline?
In many ways, the revulsion Gaelic football people hold for Gaelic football is the most impressive thing about the game.
The idea that enjoyment should be part and parcel of the matchday experience has crept ominously into most sports ever since a few clowns stood up and sat down in staggered unison during the Mexico World Cup.
These days it manifests itself most odiously at the darts, where they stand up because they love it, instead of sitting down to watch it.
And at the rugby, obviously, where they always seem to enjoy it, whatever is put in front of them.
But Gaelic football man is there, not because he wants to be there, or because there is anything there for him, entertainment-wise; he is there because it is the most natural thing in the world for him to go, despite everything he has to face into when he arrives.
For that, he always deserves our admiration.
At the same time, there is a small danger now he might be overdoing the complaining. Milking it even. Because whatever Gah Man has to put up with, it can hardly compare to the ordeals endured by this new creature, UFC Man.
There are other similarities, it seems, between these codes of combat. For example, several UFC fighters are currently taking a class action against the sport’s ownership, claiming they are indentured servants, terminology which rings a bell.
But it is UFC Man who is entitled to more sympathy. The kind of lads inside the Convention Centre in Dublin this week and the 64,000 lads locked out. At least they tell us there were 64,000 turned away and we must believe them, because these people sound very reliable.
For those that made it in, they were able to watch two gym bunnies call each other bitches and assholes and fly into furious rages that would definitely end in violence if it wasn’t for the heavy lad between them casually restraining them with one hand.
GAH Man is able to see that every Sunday and doesn’t even consider it part of the spectacle.
To be honest, it’s hard to know what is going on in UFC Man’s head. Is he able to look at this caper and not picture the two lads ironing out the choreography backstage earlier, over a latte and a can of amino acids?
Ultimately, wherever he is coming from, there was nothing at all for him to see in Dublin this week, but he still made the best of it. He still had the time of his life.
Conor McGregor reckons Croke Park wouldn’t be big enough for all the UFC Men, if he ever actually got down to a couple of minutes scuffling on the field.
Words that will surely interest GAA bosses, who may realise there’s nothing wrong with their game at all. They’ve just been selling it to the wrong people.
