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07 March 2008
Kerry V London Hurling Report
I went down to Stacks park yesterday to watch Kerry play London in the opening round of the Division 2B hurling league. Despite being the first match, this game would be a relegation decider. Hurling is a wonderful spectacle... majestic, brave and skillful. In Kerry, it's just a spectacle. Like arriving at the scene of an accident... Your horrified but curious, you survey the damage, you shake your head and wonder will anyone survive this. 200 souls braved the arctic conditions to watch this ‘titanic’ struggle.
Kerry started slowly, they weren't used to playing to such a big crowd. A bit like the Irish rugby players in Croke Park last week, the weight of expectation seemed to get to them. We couldn't shake the Londoners, so a substitute was brought in. Normally, this is done for tactical reasons. In Kerry, it's like throwing petrol on a fire. Tom M. from Kilmoyley is the least talented hurler I've ever seen. He spent his time running around the field waving his arms like windmills, roaring at anyone when the sliotar came into his area of the field.
He then realised what the Hurley was for... he smacked the London centre forward over the head. The ref had a word... he probably told Tom he wasn't herding cattle today. Tom got the message, he did his helicopter impersonation for the rest of the game avoiding any trouble. The clock ticked down towards full time, the teams were deadlocked. The tannoy system informed us there would be three minutes of injury time.
I was on my feet, fists clenched, bellowing wildly at the pitch. I couldn't help it... Division three was too horrible to contemplate. Our whole season was coming down to these last few desperate minutes. The crowd roared as Kerry midfielder Kieran D. of Abbeydorney battered a hopeful ball over the on-rushing London defense, everybody was caught out of position... everyone that is, except Tom M.
I stood there constipated in fear... could Tom provide the laxative? Each wild swing was greeted with a grimace and a groan. The sliotar was skipping towards the London goal, the keeper was rushing out. Tom did the only thing he could. he collided with the keeper and hoped the ball had enough power to make the line. Whether the ball would've got there we'll never know, Kerry full-forward Mikey B. hammered the sliotar into the empty net from a couple of yards out.
The stand went ballistic. Kerry had won. Funny how Kerry hurling is like overcoming constipation... it's a terrible struggle, the result isn't too pretty but the relief is palpable.
I went down to Stacks park yesterday to watch Kerry play London in the opening round of the Division 2B hurling league. Despite being the first match, this game would be a relegation decider. Hurling is a wonderful spectacle... majestic, brave and skillful. In Kerry, it's just a spectacle. Like arriving at the scene of an accident... Your horrified but curious, you survey the damage, you shake your head and wonder will anyone survive this. 200 souls braved the arctic conditions to watch this ‘titanic’ struggle.
Kerry started slowly, they weren't used to playing to such a big crowd. A bit like the Irish rugby players in Croke Park last week, the weight of expectation seemed to get to them. We couldn't shake the Londoners, so a substitute was brought in. Normally, this is done for tactical reasons. In Kerry, it's like throwing petrol on a fire. Tom M. from Kilmoyley is the least talented hurler I've ever seen. He spent his time running around the field waving his arms like windmills, roaring at anyone when the sliotar came into his area of the field.
He then realised what the Hurley was for... he smacked the London centre forward over the head. The ref had a word... he probably told Tom he wasn't herding cattle today. Tom got the message, he did his helicopter impersonation for the rest of the game avoiding any trouble. The clock ticked down towards full time, the teams were deadlocked. The tannoy system informed us there would be three minutes of injury time.
I was on my feet, fists clenched, bellowing wildly at the pitch. I couldn't help it... Division three was too horrible to contemplate. Our whole season was coming down to these last few desperate minutes. The crowd roared as Kerry midfielder Kieran D. of Abbeydorney battered a hopeful ball over the on-rushing London defense, everybody was caught out of position... everyone that is, except Tom M.
I stood there constipated in fear... could Tom provide the laxative? Each wild swing was greeted with a grimace and a groan. The sliotar was skipping towards the London goal, the keeper was rushing out. Tom did the only thing he could. he collided with the keeper and hoped the ball had enough power to make the line. Whether the ball would've got there we'll never know, Kerry full-forward Mikey B. hammered the sliotar into the empty net from a couple of yards out.
The stand went ballistic. Kerry had won. Funny how Kerry hurling is like overcoming constipation... it's a terrible struggle, the result isn't too pretty but the relief is palpable.
