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The first time I ever saw a green Limerick GAA jersey, it was worn by a Christian Brother, we’ll call him a Br Shaughnessy who’d just arrived in the school.
He decided to show us how to hurl, and like many’s the lads from the north where football was the thing, hurling was a bit of a novelty. He appeared down to the field with a bag of hurleys and a pocket full of sliotars. The lads were shocked to see him out of his black Christian Brothers soutane and in the worn battle marked green jersey. He tossed a ball in the air and drove it over the far cross bar. We watched, open mouthed in envy.
"Is that a Republic football jersey" one of the cognoscenti called. "No" replied the Brother, lifting another sliotar and dispatching it the same way as the first. This is a Limerick hurling jersey. It was green, emerald green, a white collar and cuff. The memory
As the Club Championships progress through the winter, a cast of inspirational, rock solid and at times hoary old club characters emerge from the shadows to don their bib and do their club duty. As the saying goes, everyone has a part to play, no matter how big or how small.
He’s the man, wearing that Bainisteoir bib carries a weight all of its own. Got the world upon the shoulders or the unbearable lightness of being successful. Bestriding the touchline like a colossus as the saying goes. There’s different species of bainisteoir, the Davy Fitzgerald living every moment with the lads out on the pitch, heart on sleeve, pucking and kicking every ball. Or the more inscrutable like a Cody or Mickey Harte, hands thrust deep in pockets or gripping his chin in brow furrowed contemplation. In the club championship you never know who you’d see on TG4 on a Sunday doing the rounds. Some of them even have the Gilet, with