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The other night Westmeath GAA’s Warren Casserly finished the u21 match against Kilkenny GAA with a goal to his name and a significant slice in his head. As the saying goes pain is temporary but the glory lasts forever. Don’t ask what your county can do for you but what you can do for your county. For Warren and hundreds of other lads, it is worth it. What’s in a jersey?
Westmeath don't beat Kilkenny in hurling matches, the just don't. But they did. And for Warren and every man among them it made every minute of everything they've done worthwhile. Not to mention the grown men openly weeping in the stand. The county game. The pinnacle of your career. Epictetus the Greek knew all about it.
So you wish to conquer in the Olympic Games, my friend? And I, too... But first mark the conditions and the consequences.
Yes if you make it onto a county panel one of these days you can be sure that you will train. And train. And train. You gotta love that training. Whether it’s pitch session, tactical sessions, conditioning sessions, going to the gym, recovery. Add in the demands of a club coach or two that can squeeze blood out of a stone. Just imagine, you could be out seven days a week. It's great you don't have to worry about being at home, you can keep your kitbag in the car and spend your time playing the game you love.
You will have to put yourself under discipline; to eat by rule, to avoid cakes and sweetmeats;
Yes. And other tasty dishes. Greens, lots of greens. And coloured peppers. Stuff like Sweet Potatoes. Fish is good but not as good as boiled chicken. As Shakespeare said in his sonnet “How many ways can you boil a chicken, let me county the ways”. Used to be a player’s Ma starved the rest of the family so the Golden Child could have a big dripping steak before a big game. No more. Plenty of water too. Turn the boot of the car into a reservoir. Makes sure your pee is crystal clear. And eat weird stuff too. Beetroot shots. Cherry juice. It all works.
Take exercise at the appointed hour whether you like it or not, in cold and heat;
Starting in the dark of winter. To the heat of summer. Early morning sessions. After work. Lunchtime. The Programme. The S&C coach. It’s all about the Programme. Bench press, Goblet squat. Technique. The activate warm up. Get those new bands to activate the glutes. If you don’t know what your glutes are, don’t ask your dad. They weren’t invented in his day. He’ll know what Wintergreen was though. And running laps he knew about that. Most of all the gym. And if you get an injury? There’s the cryo chamber. Who wouldn’t want to be reduced to subzero temperatures that would make a polar bear blush or a penguin huddle. But you love it. You can tell the lads all about it. Unreal.
To abstain from cold drinks and wine at your will.
Once upon a time in Galaxy far away, players used to go for a pint or two after a game. The craic was good. They talked to one another on the team coach. Maybe played cards or pitch and toss. Nowadays? It’s better to stick on the Dr Dre headphones and listen to your beats. A night out? Forget about it. You’d only spend the time wishing you weren’t there. You’d be much happier eating boiled chicken or going to the gym. As for the WAG or the HAB? Sure they know the sacrifices they’ve to make to let you be the best you can be. They knew that from day one. And the reward? Sure when you ascend the steps of the Hogan Stand in September, the captain of the ship will thank the wives and girlfriends and husbands and boyfriends [delete as appropriate] along with the team sponsor, the physios, the psychologists, the doctor, the kit men, the fundraisers, the referees, the linesmen. Everyone in fact. You can have a pint that night. For sure.
Then, in the conflict itself you are likely enough to dislocate your wrist or twist your ankle, to swallow a great deal of dust, to be severely thrashed,
Some horror stories init? Warren Casserly and his opened forehead. We’ve had keepers hit in the nether regions with a sliotar, a plethora of ACL injuries, broken hands, dislocated knee, dislocated elbow. Hamstring. Sore. Ever damaged your hamstring? Your dad never had a hamstring. Wasn’t invented. You name it these injuries are slow and painful to heal. Then there’s the physio. The diagnosis. The scan. The rehab. The programme. The Gym. The boiled chicken. The cryo therapy. The guy in Germany with the reputation. The guy in California with the reputation. The bit of your body that’s relocated to fix another part. Unreal. Before you know it you’ll be back on the pitch.
And after all of these things, to be defeated.
They won’t remember what you said or maybe even how you played. But they’ll remember how you made them feel. Class is permanent. The glory lives forever. Heroic in defeat. It’s not whether you win or lose but how you play the game. Well done lad. Only 26 players every year win an All Ireland medal. So what are the rest of the boys at? Well, as the song says, if you never try you’ll never know. Boiled Chicken? Tastes like victory. But doing everything you can is better. It’s the best.
They wouldn’t have it any other way.