GAA Sexuality

Big Gay Gaelic Football Weekend in Limerick

Today in Limerick we have the All-Ireland Gaelic football semi-final replay and the Limerick Pride march.

This means the town is full of big freckly-headed Mayomen, not a bit happy after an enforced long drive because the GAA stabbed them in the back, a gang of Kerrymen from just south of the border, and a throng of raving homosexuals in leotards and dresses.

What could possibly go wrong?

Not much, as far as I can see.  It just means the town is even more festive than usual this weekend and if we can persuade some of our visitors to remain for a night or two, we can look forward to massive partying no matter who wins the knockabout they call Gaelic football.


The Mayo supporters have a point when they complain about holding an All-Ireland semi final replay in Limerick.  As somebody said today, what kid grows up dreaming of playing in the Gaelic Grounds?  No-one, obviously, but for some reason, the GAA completely screwed up its schedules and contracted to host an American Football game instead.  Not being a GAA follower, I don’t quite understand why the semi-final could not have been played on Sunday instead, but no doubt someone will enlighten me.

Unfortunately for the Mayo crowd but happily for the Kerry bunch, the scoreline went the way of the southern visitors after a closely-fought bout of pulling and dragging, and so it happens that two hordes depart our home town, one to the north and the other to the south, each of them leaving a trail of destruction in the form of half-eaten ham-sandwiches, bottles of tea, Tayto bags and crepe-paper hats.

But of course, they’ll leave a residue of boisterous young foot-soldiers to inspect a town they’ve never in their lives visited, thanks to dire warnings from the Dublin meeja ( most of whom have likewise never set foot in our town).  What happens when the Kerry and Mayo hordes meet the gay wave, I simply cannot say, but it won’t  be pretty, and that’s why I’ve retired to my mountain redoubt for safety.

What a result.  The gays and the gaas.

GAA Pride.  You can’t beat it.


The Curse of Mayo Football Strikes Again

Wouldn’t you think a place like Mayo with all its Holy-Mary shrines and magic mountains would be able to shake off a sixty-year-old curse ?  Ah, it just goes to show the power these priesty fellas had back in the Fifties that one single cleric was able to prevent an entire county from winning the All-Ireland football final.

What happened?  Well, it seems that when Mayo last won the trophy, back in 1951, they failed to show proper respect as the team bus passed a funeral.  I don’t know exactly what that means but I think it’s unlikely they mooned the mourners or anything like that.  More probably, they were a little excited as they headed home with their prize, and perhaps a little intoxicated as well, but either way, the priest got the hump and cursed them.

Never again shall Mayo win the Sam Maguire cup until every member of this team is dead, he thundered.  Or words to that effect.

And so it came to pass, and so it is that Mayo yet again fell at the final hurdle, and Donegal collected Sam.

Of course, that was an Ireland where parish priests toured the dancehalls with a trusty blackthorn stick, enforcing obedience on the compliant faithful and making sure nobody got too carried away.  Those were the days when  people took the lads in the collars seriously, and it would come as no surprise if the alleged curse managed to demoralise the Mayo players for a decade or more, out of sheer terror of the clergy.

But when it lasts sixty years, you’d have to start taking it seriously, wouldn’t you?

There are five surviving members of the victorious Mayo team, Mick Mulderrig, Pádraig Carney, Paddy Prendergast, Peter Quinn and John McAndrew, and they have reason to worry.  These five lads must be asking the obvious question: will some breakaway militant faction of the Mayo County Board decide to hunt them down like dogs and end the curse?

It won’t happen without a fight.  They might be getting on in years, but these are tough boys.  They won’t lie down and take it, so if you happen to be passing through some corner of Mayo and you spot five octogenarians in combat fatigues, perhaps scaling the Reek with backpacks and rifles, or maybe sprinting down the middle of the main runway at Knock, you know what’s going on.  The Sam Maguire Five have gone back into training.

They’re mean, they’re lean and they’re pissed off.  Not only that, but they have powerful allies in other counties with a vested interest in making sure they live forever.  I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the Sam Maguire Five sought asylum in Kerry or Donegal.   It wouldn’t surprise me if researchers in Cork redoubled their efforts to come up with a potion for everlasting life, but of course, it could all be a high-powered game of double bluff.

Who’s to say that Dublin won’t offer them asylum only to imprison  them in a cryogenic stasis capsule hidden in a vast, secret underground cavern beneath St Vincent’s?

This could get serious.


Munster Football Final – Limerick Salvage Vital Last-Minute Defeat

LIMERICK’S gallant Gaelic footballers maintained a level of consistency rarely seen in the top echelons of sport on Sunday last when they held their nerve to lose the Munster final to Cork at Páirc Uí Chaoimh.

With just minutes remaining, Lims stood firm in the face of stiff opposition to preserve an historic losing sequence spanning three fucking centuries.

The final score read 2-6 to 0-11 in favour of Cork, the Leesiders emerging victorious by a solitary point.

Before last Sunday’s encounter Limerick had last won a Munster title 113 years ago in 1896, the year F Scott Fitzgerald was born.

According to unconfirmed reports, Fitzgerald, who passed away in 1940, enquired with his dying breath: “Have Limerick won a Munster football title yet?”

His doctor, not wishing to send the Great Gatsby author on his journey into eternity on a negative note replied, “No.”

Meantime, no one knows who the Limerick captain was in 1896. But as he accepted the trophy we imagine he must have claimed that his side’s win over Waterford would usher in a period of provincial dominance for the Shannonsiders.

Er, am, not quite, because the failure rate has now embraced two world wars, Henry Ford’s mass production of the automobile, the Titanic hitting an iceberg,the 1916 Rising,the Bolshevik Revolution, the establishment of the Irish Free State, Al Capone, Mao, Joe Stalin, Pol Pot, Elvis Presley’s appearance on the Grand Ole Opry, only to be told, “you ain’t got no future as singer son, best go back to driving a truck,” Bob Dylan, Hendrix burning his guitar on the stage at Woodstock, the Rolling Stones, JFK, the moon landing, Muhammad Ali, the Iron Curtain, Papa Doc, Margaret Thatcher (Mama Doc), Punk Rock, the fall of the Berlin Wall, the internet, and last, but not least, the closure of Daffys.

But in fairness to the boys in green maybe deep down in their psyche they needed to maintain this horrendous catalogue of failure last weekend.

Face it: anyone can win a Munster title. But to fail to win a provincial crown since around the time Oliver Cromwell was a teenager, that’s the stuff of legend.

And maybe in those final frenetic moments as they swarmed around the Cork goal last Sunday our boys felt the obtuse hand of history – reaching across eleven decades – resting on their broad shoulders.

And they might have said to themselves: “Hey, why ruin a good thing here, lets keep this run going for another 113 years – and beyond.”

And so it came to pass that in the year of our Lord, 2146 – the 250th anniversary of Limerick’s failure to win a Munster football title – that a Limerick man is having a pint of the black stuff, still a popular drink amongst the new age colonists on the planet Jupiter, in his local.

He picks up the paper and notices that the Shannonsiders have extended their losing sequence to a quarter of a millennium, after being edged out by Cork, once again with a razor-thin margin.

“Phew,” he says to his drinking buddy, a four eyed, green headed Martian.”That was a close one. They nearly fucked up good and proper and won the damn thing there.”

“That’s some run alright,” nods the Martian, “go on ye good things.”


Meantime, here in Limerick City we tend to look on Gaelic football as some sort of alien war-dance.

Here are my suggestions to improve our indigenous lark.

1): Reduce the number of outfield players to ten

2): Only the goalkeeper can handle the ball

3): You get nothing for ballooning the ball over the bar and have to hit the net to score

4): Introduce a penalty area around the goals

5): Shorten the length and width of the pitch

6): Introduce an offside law

7): Each half last 45 minutes with extra time and penalty shoot outs (from 12 yards – not 14) if needed

8): The umpires behind the goals, the ones with long white coats, like deranged rural psychiatrists, are run out of the ground

9): Players and fans are not allowed to dribble out of both sides of their mouths during pre and post match TV interviews

10): Tipp fans are not allowed to have picnics out of the boots of their cars outside grounds and Down fans can’t wear hats saying: “Up Down.”

Now we have a game.


The Gaaaaaaaaaaaa

Tonight, I thought I’d start by bringing you a few quotes from the great man, Micheál Ó Muircheartaigh. No introduction needed.

Here we go:-

“… and Brian Dooher is down injured. And while he is, I’ll tell ye a little story. I was in Times Square in New York last week, and I was missing the Championship back home. So I approached a newsstand and I said ‘I suppose ye wouldn’t have the Kerryman would ye?’ To which, the Egyptian behind the counter turned to me and he said ‘do you want the North Kerry edition or the South Kerry edition?’… he had both…so I bought both. And Dooher is back on his feet…”

“Anthony Lynch the Cork corner back will be the last person to let you down – his people are undertakers”.

“I saw a few Sligo people at Mass in Gardiner Street this morning and the omens seem to be good for them, the priest was wearing the same colours as the Sligo jersey! 40 yards out on the Hogan stand side of the field Ciaran Whelan goes on a rampage, it’s a goal. So much for religion”.

“Colin Corkery on the 45 lets go with the right boot.  It’s over the bar. This man shouldn’t be playing football. He’s made an almost Lazarus-like recovery from a heart condition. Lazarus was a great man but he couldn’t kick points like Colin Corkery”.

“1-5 to 0-8..well from Lapland to the Antarctic, that’s level scores in any man’s language”.

“Pat Fox has it on his hurl and is motoring well now … but here comes Joe Rabbitte hot on his tail …… I’ve seen it all now, a Rabbitte chasing a Fox around Croke Park!”

“I see John O Donnell dispensing water on the sideline. Tipperary, sponsored by a water company. Cork Sponsored by a tae company. I wonder will they meet later for afternoon tae”.

“Teddy looks at the ball, the ball looks at Teddy”.

“Danny The Yank Culloty. He came down from the mountains and hasn’t he done well”.

“He grabs the sliotar, he’s on the 50……he’s on the 40……he’s on the 30……. he’s on the ground”.

“In the first half they played with the wind. In the second half they played with the ball”.

“He kicks the ball lán san aer, could’ve been a goal, could’ve been a point………….it went wide”.

“Stephen Byrne with the puck out for Offaly….Stephen, one of 12……all but one are here to-day, the one that’s missing is Mary, she’s at home minding the house…..and the ball is dropping i lár na bpáirce….”

“Pat Fox out to the forty and grabs the sliotar, I bought a dog from his father last week. Fox turns and sprints for goal, the dog ran a great race last Tuesday in Limerick. Fox to the 21 fires a shot, it goes to the left and wide….. and the dog lost as well”.

“Seán Óg Ó hAilpín…. his father’s from Fermanagh, his mother’s from Fiji, neither a hurling stronghold”.

“Teddy McCarthy to John McCarthy, no relation, John McCarthy back to Teddy McCarthy, still no relation”.

“And that’s it for another All Ireland Day, never have such scenes been seen in Croke Park as the day Tyrone lifted the Sam Maguire, but credit must go to Armagh, cos lets face it, they’re going to need a lot of credit in the weeks and years to come.”

And while we’re on a general Gaaaa sort of thing, here’s something I stole:

A Gaaaaaa glossary for the Big Match.

Mighty – very good

Hames – a right fuck-up – eg.”he made a hames of that clearance”

Timber – intimidation of a hurling opponent

Welt – swing at

Lamp – a good thump

A Crowd – eg. “that crowd from Cavan are a right shower of bollixes”

Schkelp – a good thump

Bullin’ – angry. eg. “the centre half back was bullin’ after I lamped him”

Bull thick – very angry

Joult – a push

Joshel – a shoulder push

The Comm-it-eeee – Local GAA fuckers in general

Bushted – eg. “Jayz me arm is bushted”

The Bomber – a very popular nickname for a GAA player

A hang sangwidge – consumed with tay on the sides of roads after matches in Croker or Clones.

Citeog – he hit it with his citeog. ie. left handed/footed

Warp – hit something hard as in “I’ll fuckin warp you”

Blasht – A great amount of anything.

Rake – Also a great amount of anything, usually pints of Guinness

A Schemozzle – a group of players shkelpin’ one another but not exactly hittin’ anyone at the same time! (Probably an import from the heavily Jewish-influenced New York Gaaaaa)

Flakin’ – usually goes on for a whole game….. eg. “Jayz Gareth Curran Gave John Ryan an awful flakin’ below in Halton on Sunday”. (To “flake”a lad for a whole game usually starts off with a bit of “joshellin'” and “joultin'” and develops into a bit of “weltin'” and may even result in a good “lampin'” for the victim especially if he gets”bull thick”.)

Flakin’ – Alternative meaning: Excellent. eg Jaysus, that’s a flakin’ trailer!

Name-a-jaysus – What was that for, referee?

Ya-bollix-ya – Corner back’s formal recognition of a score by his opponent

Mullocker – untidy or awkward players

Horsed – bout of rough play or intimidatory tactics as in we horsed them out of it. Sometimes referred to as kicking/batin’ the shite out of the opposing team.

Horse – untidy or rough player. There’s one in every club

Burst the cunt- Common exhortation also referred to as the Turlough roar.

Row – Fight involving four or more players swinging hurls like lunatics

Massive Row – Row involving both team, substitutes and supporters jumping fences

Running Row – A massive row that continues out in the parking area and or dressing room areas.

Bata – eg “I gave it bata” – I put a fair bit of effort into it

Stomached – surprised. “Jaysus when he came up behind me I was awful stomached”

Bollix – Pat Spillane

Here’s a few Gaaaaa quotes:

“I love Cork so much that if I caught one of their hurlers in bed with my missus, I’d tiptoe downstairs and make him a cup of tea”- Joe Lynch, actor.

“I’m not giving away any secrets like that to Tipperary. If I had my way, I wouldn’t even tell them the time of the throw-in” – Ger Loughnane.

“Whenever a team loses, there’s always a row at half time but when they win, it’s an inspirational speech” –John O’ Mahony.

“The wheel fell off my mobile home” — Offaly’s Eugene McGee explains why he was late for training.

‘We’re taking this match awful seriously.We’re training three times a week now, and some of the boys are off the beer since Tuesday’ -Offaly hurler quote in the week before a Leinster hurling final vs. Kilkenny

‘Ger Loughnane was fair, he treated us all the same during training. Like dogs’ – anonymous Clare hurler

Any chance of an autograph? Its for the wife….she really hates you’ -Tipp fan to Ger Loughnane

‘You can’t win derbies with donkeys’ – Babs Keating before Tipp played Cork in 1990

Sheep in a heap’ – Babs Keating description of Offaly in 1998.

‘Babs Keating ‘resigned’ as coach because of illness and fatigue. The players were sick and tired of him’ – Offaly fan in 1998

‘Meath make football a colourful game-you get all black and blue’ – another Cork fan 1988

‘Colin Corkery is deceptive.  He is slower than he looks’ – Kerry fan

Life isn’t all beer and football…some of us haven’t touched a football in months’ – Kerry player during league campaign 1980s

And finally . . . .especially for Limerick people. A quote from Michael Cusack, founder of the Gaaaaaaa!!!

Cusack, who will be familiar to many readers as the inspiration for The Citizen in the Cyclops chapter of Ulysses, described rugby as a denationalising plague carrying on through winter the work of ruin that cricket was doing through the summer.  This is why Michael Cusack is almost idolised in Limerick City.