Hayes has been handed a six week suspension for his stamp on Cian Healy.
The suspension will run from the date of the offence. It will end on Saturday November 14.
He will now miss the first two games of Munster’s European Cup campaign.
The IRFU disciplinary panel was made up of Hugh Logan (chairman), Stephen Hilditch and Neil Jackson.
He has the right to appeal the suspension.
Munster prop John Hayes will know this afternoon whether he gets handed a ban for his alleged stamp on Cian Healy during Saturday’s spectacular capitulation to Leinster at the RDS.
Munster coach Tony McGahan reckons there was no malicious intent involved. “We feel that he was just trying to find the ground with his foot,” he told RTE.
Paul O’Connell added that he believed that the alleged stamping was accidental.
Unfortunately for Healy his head interrupted the journey of Hayes’s boot toward the ground.
So what’s the difference between biting on a capsule to produce fake blood and doing a Michael Flatley job on a prostrate opponent’s skull to produce real blood – a Neurosurgery ward perhaps?
Athletics, soccer, rugby, GAA, baseball, all sports, condone cheating. And the vast majority of sports fans remain ambivalent about bending the rules – especially if their side gains an advantage. We’re all part of the same hypocrisy, occupying both sides of the same coin.
It has been such for centuries, despite our naive wishes that athletes, the products of societies that have no problem cheating, robbing, torturing and raping in the world of banking, law, religion and politics, are somehow above bending the rules when it comes to sport, that they become paragons of virtue courtesy of chasing a ball or each other around a field.
Back at the 1904 Olympics one Fred Lorz finished first to claim gold in the marathon on a blistering hot day in St Louis. He crossed the line in a state of “fevered exhaustion” after clocking up an amazing time of three hours and thirteen minutes.
Water, water, he allegedly gasped, close to collapse as he fell over the finishing line close to deaths door.
A triumph for human endurance, fitness and the will to win, as international scribes rapped out on their typewriters?
Well, not exactly, because the cunning Fred was spotted in a car going through the hilly part of the course. He’d covered over ten miles of the circuit in an automobile after taking a lift from his manager. It beats running I guess.
Fred, who some referred to as “the Jaguar”, was initially banned from athletics for life.
“He’d been driving in a car. He’s not quite a jaguar”, as Madness might sing.
But a few years later he was reinstated after it was found that he had no intention to defraud.
No intention to defraud? He took a lift in a car in a race. His feet, to paraphrase Bob Marley, were supposed to be his only carriage. It wasn’t the Indy 500.
Athletics, soccer, rugby, GAA, baseball, all sports, condone cheating. Likewise, watch a soccer game these days and the players are jumping in the air like salmon if a defender as much as farts in their general direction. Players spit in each other’s faces and others go in over the top in a deliberate attempt to maim an opponent.
And thanks to Harlequins, we don’t know whether we’re watching rugby or a remake of Nosferatu because some players are biting on blood capsules and feigning blood injuries to get subs on the pitch – and the practice is not confined to Quins according to the cheat Dean Richards.
Richards, the main orchestrator behind the “bloodgate” scandal which has shamed rugby union was on the papers recently claiming that he believes he was punished too harshly – he was slapped with a three year worldwide ban.
And there was I thinking he should have been banned for life and jailed, call me old fashioned.
Anyway, Richards fears that the length of the ban will prevent him from returning to the game. So do we Dean, so do we.
Meantime, amid reading a brazen attempt at self justification minus any hint of remorse from an unscrupulous bastard, Usain Bolt is running faster than a Fianna Fáiler at the sight of a tribunal barrister.
But is he taking performance enhancing drugs M’lud?
The Jamaican sprinter struck double gold at this years World Championships in Berlin, setting two new world records in the 100m and 200m finals in the process.
On both occasions he shaved 0.11 seconds of the existing records – set by himself – after tearing off down the asphalt like an officer’s bastard, who, given their predisposition, have occasion for running very fast indeed.
“Ah the youth of today, always rushing mon, ” auld Marley might sigh, as he tries it on with an ex Miss World while she looks up at him with a jaundiced eye, enquiring if he’s fucking serious about having only cornmeal porridge to eat, in his government yard in Trenchtown, and his records selling by the truckload, the hyprocrite.
Bolt ran 9.58 in the 100m and 19.19 in the 200m. His time in the 100m was the biggest improvement on an existing world record since electronic timing was first introduced.
The current Olympic 100m and 200m champion, is quite simply the fastest thing on two legs in our solar system. He’s the road runner (meep, meep) and the rest of the field are Wile E Coyotes and haven’t a snowball’s chance in hell of catching up with him.
Incidentally, wouldn’t you just love to get your hands on the copyright for the Road Runner, make one last episode and have poor old beleagured Wile E catch the bastard and give him a sound thrashing with a baseball bat.
Where’s your meep meep now, you bastard?
As mentioned previously, there is almost a cultural contradiction about someone for Jamaica, an island dedicated to lethargy, doing things in such a Godawful hurry. For generations our Caribbean brothers and sisters, like ourselves, have consistently pursued a philosophy of always putting off until tomorrow anything which can quite reasonably be done today.
Moreover, their reggae musicians take performance enhancing drugs – to deliberately slow them down. And then in the time it takes Peter Tosh to skin up a whatyoucall yer man Bolt is gone off down the track like a mudda fucka. Blink 2.3 times and you’ll miss him.
Bolt is not the first Jamaican to set a new world record in the 100m. Remember Ben Johnston at the Seoul Olympics? Benny, he of the yellow eye sockets, won gold and broke the existing world record.
“Canadian Sprints to Gold, Bentastic,” screamed the headlines in one Canadian paper. Twenty four hours after that win it became apparent that Benny was out of his skull on steroids.
“Jamaican Immigrant Pests positive for Drugs.” ran the headline on the same paper, without blushing.
So is Bolt sneaking down to Frankenstein’s laboratory in the dead of night injecting himself from the vial marked sporting immortality?
Are his remarkable times and gold medals the product of a natural ability to run like the wind or a test tube? He’s certainly very tall for a sprinter, standing at 6ft 5in. However, there is a natural evolution to his ascendency as he has been setting records and winning gold since he was fifteen.
He won gold in the 200m in the World Junior Championships in 2002 and became the first junior to run under 20 seconds in the 200m two years later. But the court of public opinion is still out. Years of sporting excellence followed by drug busts had led to every sporting achievement being treated with outright scepticism.
Just look at the Tour de France, the rolling pharmacy. The race still gets oxygen of publicity on our sports pages.
Why do our sports editors allow it so much space? Everyone knows that they are all on something – and we’re not talking about their bikes.
Incidentally, drug taking in the Tour is referred to euphemistically as “preparing for the race”.
Is drug taking in athletics as endemic as it is in the Tour de France? I reckon it is, but I hope I’m wrong. The romantics in all of us want to be able to celebrate athletic excellence without that nagging doubt.
But Johnston, the Tour de France, soccer, rugby and all the rest of the motley crew of swindlers have destroyed the innocence.
We want to believe that Bolt’s remarkable talent is the product of training, skill and the application of a God-given talent to run like the wind but something tells me that some pointy headed alchemist, buried deep in the bowels of a laboratory, is partly responsible for his success.
Bolt will always be guilty until he can prove himself innocent, but innocence in this context is not innocence per se. Innocence is making sure you’re not caught.
Meanwhile, a horrific thought, Richards could have been walking around with the European Cup held aloft earlier this summer. Only for the rodent-faced squealer Williams setting the alarms bells ringing after being nabbed winking on camera they would probably have got away with it.
Imagine Richards holding the European Cup? How can you stop the rot. There is only one way. When you see someone cheating, call it like it is – but only when it is your own side.