Susan Hated Literature

So it turns out that today is Thursday. Who’d have guessed that shocker following yesterday being Wednesday? Course yesterday was the start of my working week so part of me is busy thinking today is Tuesday. Gonna get a pleasant surprise when I wake up thinking “thursday, nother two days of work” only for it to turn out to be Sat. Course, this may then get extra confuddling when I arise feeling like a Sat^[1] and then remember, that no, today is Monday. You should be at work.

The perils of taking days off work.

Right, back to the blunt end of this post^[2] today is Thursday, which means Thursday Thirteens.:

Thirteen Sports related memories One of my earliest sporting memories, you know, apart from playing three and in in the park, or kerbs by the kerb, is radio related. Who’d have guessed in this modern age of televisual delights, HD-mebobs, youTube footage, bittorrented goodness and all the rest of the technological greatness that is modern sports-watching. But then again, I am almost ancient now, approaching my third decade. Mein gott! the wrinkles…[3] So back in the day, they had this device known as a radio. Whereby you could listen to people describing things that happened in front of them. I’m guessing I was quite young, because I know we were on holiday in Enniscrone, camping and that was why I wasn’t watching on the telly[4] I’m thinking 8. But that may be a purely random number pulled from the ether[5] Right, eight years old, in the car, listening avidly to… showjumping. Yes, the Dublin Horse Show’s Nations Cup competition. I don’t remember who won, but I think we may have[6] Whatever. Winners or losers, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I remember it, and lo, it was good. Another barely recalled sporting moment, which isn’t really a moment at all, more like a collection of memories, is of All-Ireland final day. Now back in the dim mists of time when I hadn’t the vaguest of interests in sport these two days[7] meant only one thing. No telly to watch. Because in those days there was no such thing a families having two tellies. Not a chance boys, nor did children enter into the equation when the parents wanted to watch something. So All-Ireland Sundays involved waiting for the sport to end. If it was a wet summer[8] then that would involve sitting around, popping heads in doors, and gradually watching bits of the game. Or if it was good weather, then that meant you could play outside til the game was over, and you could always tell, because sunny days meant glare on the screen, and All-Ireland days were the only ones important enough to allow the curtains to be pulled during the day to facilitate telly watching. So roller-skating[9] around the house, or whatever else, you could tell the moment the game was over by spotting that the curtains to the sitting room were now open. And now a real actual sporting memory: Watching Simon Geoghegan play rugby. I can’t give you a specific match or year, but sometime between 1991 and 1996 would be my best guess. This was when I started to get into rugby. As I’ve mentioned before, de mudder was always a rugby supporter, but I could never see the point of a game where you had to through the ball backwards[10] and one of the main ways of advancing was to kick the ball into touch. Seemed boring and pointless to me. But what with there only being one telly in the house you sorta had to watch those Five Nations matches, and Geoghegan always stood out. And of course once you start watching and understanding the game then it is fairly easy to appreciate the sport. The Dublin-Meath GAA encounters of the early 90’s. They seem to have spent the entire summer playing each other[11] Donegal winning the All-Ireland in 1992, beating Dublin. I’m not really sure why this sticks in the mind. I know I was supporting Dublin at the time, but it was still nice to see Donegal win. Living in Sligo you don’t really get too many sporting greats around, so seeing a neighbouring county do well is always nice. Euro ‘88, I was in 4th class. I think. And such was the soccer-mania that qualifying for the European championships brought about, we had more than a few art classes where we did nothing but colour in flags or draw the footballers. Course, there was one fella who was so enthusiastic that when Euro ‘88 was over he promptly set about preparing for Euro ‘89 before being laughed out of the classroom as everyone explained about there being four years in between championships. And I couldn’t mention the Euros without mentioning the World Championship, and Italia ‘90. The glory days of Irish football. I was on my yearly holiday in Tip when we played Italy. Fully confident that we would lose against Italy, but that didn’t dampen the excitement. And of course then I was proved correct when Scilacci[12] scored that goal. But we didn’t really care. The team had gone there and done us proud. Okay, so they didn’t technically win a single match, but that didn’t bother us. Watching Barry McGuigan, I have no idea who he was boxing, or when this was, but I do remember staying up late watching on the Granny’s small telly. I can’t even remember if this was a fight he won. Not much of a memory, but I was maybe 6 or 7, so you’ll have to make do with hazy memory. Michelle Smith winning in the Olympics. Great while it lasted, but now totally, and deservedly overshadowed by the sample-tampering/whiskey in urine incident. Cian O’Connor winning the gold medal in showjumping. Okay, another drug incident. But until the drug story came to light it was a great achievement. Michael Carruth and Wayne McCullough in the 1992 Olympics. I’m not even a boxing fan, but look, three boxers have already been mentioned here. Brian O’Driscoll scoring three tries against France. In Paris. Asked for a comment on the field after the final whistle, Keith Wood, the Irish captain, was too happy for words. “Woooooooooo,” he screamed into an interviewer’s microphone. Look at him, all young and unfamous, awww. Ireland V England in the Six Nations 2007. Croke Park, historical day and all that. The emotion of the anthems. The final score. Best rugby memory[13] in a long while. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! Selena Kitt The Flatland Chronicles Pistols, Passion & Potions the screaming pages (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)

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So, instead of rugby this blog will know turn its attention to… cricket! Nah, not really, though I have watched some of our winning ways. Who knew that failed^[1] furrin^[2] crickteers could play so well? Or, if I’m being honest, who really cared. Still, now that they are out there winning, and fans are singing olé olé olé^[3] the rest of us will be happy to see them do well.

In case you all didn’t know, the Six Nations finished up on Saturday. We were playing first, on account of the BBC organising things. Bloody English! And the match was one of the most entertaining, plus we scored over 50 points. All good. You know, apart from that last minute try from Italy after we really should have put the ball out of play, but no point in moaning. As B#5 said, sure, no matter what we scored those french fuckers’d^[4] probably go one better. But we had such high hopes ^[5] as it looked like Scotland might just do enough. But no, bloody crappy refs asking stoooopud questions when everyone and their dog could see that there was no grounding visible, therefore the benefit of the doubt must go to the defending team, and therefore you may NOT award the try should have been Mr. TMO’s call.

But, what can you do? Pray for payback come the Autumn, that’s what. So you’d better watch out then.

I would have loads and loads of photos of the terribly exciting and thrilling St. Patrick’s Day Parade from Sligo, only as B#3 was invest-igamating the new camera he hit the delete all button. I saved some, but not all. Mainly the attention grabbing parade consisted of bands. Marching pipe bands. In rain gear.

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Yesterday at work Bhí cúpla caílíní ag suigh in front of the desk. Psychology students. And as they were studying they were chatting^[1] and got on to discussing suicide.^[2] Now I’ve always felt that suicide is something of a selfish act, because lets face it, it is the people left behind who have to deal with the aftermath. But at the same time, if someone is contemplating suicide then obviously they have problems.

But one of the girls was dead certain that it was only ever selfish people who committed suicide.

Some of the others made half-hearted attempts to persuade her that usually those with suicidal tendencies weren’t ag iarracht daoine eile a gortaithe but she was having none of it.

And her a psychology student! Lack of understanding of what.

Since the O’Gara-incident^[3] I’ve been reading a few comments from those on both sides of the argument. And it never ceases to amaze me how vitriolic people can be in defence of something they know nothing about.

First of all nobody, apart from those actually involved know what happened. You can watch all the you tube vidjos you want, they don’t show what happened. And they don’t show the mental processes of what went on. They do however show Donncha O’Callaghan being punched in response to him holding on to a jersey, is this acceptable behaviour I wonder?

But for all the people screaming that Eddie O’Sullivan should resign and utter a grovelling apology to all Scotland? Well, ye can dream on. Not going to happen. Do I think O’Sullivan should’ve said what he said? No, not so soon afterwards, not until he knew as much as possible. However, presuming that what he said was true then he would have been remiss if he had said nothing. As for the Scottish players? Well, they are all innocent until proven otherwise, and nothing has been proven. So therefore, they are innocent.

And comments about smoke and fire are never welcome.

If it ROG really was choked deliberately, and if the players think that that happened, I think we’ll all find out about it the next time Ireland play Scotland.

Then again, life is so much more entertaining when you leap to conclusions without thinking. Let’s all shout Dúnmharú! nó iarraidh dhúnmharaithe without thinking. Accusations are what make the world go round after all, don’t you agree.

fx: gollum-type-voice “dúnmhartóir! fuathaím thú”

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Yes, putting those two words in the title does feel like sacrilege, but I just don’t care. I’m a heathen, right?

But the reporting that the match is getting in the English papers is ridiculous. Fair play^[1] to the team in white, but they played like the slow lumbering pack that they are. Catt had how many crappy passes and made how many errors in judgement. Yes, he did then scythe straight through the French, but I put it to you that this was ineptitude from Les Bleus rather than genius from the English. Although, credit to the younger players on the English team; the likes of Rees, Flood and Geraghty. But you’d have to blame the French team for the defeat.

Just like you’d have to blame the Irish team for that display against the Scots.

Although, maybe, just maybe, the crap teams aren’t as crap as have been made out? I mean the results have been all over the shop this Six Nations competitions, haven’t they? Ireland are beaten by France but hammer England. England then win against France. And Italy have won two games. Wales look like they’ll be the ones getting the Wooden Spoon. Who’d've thought it’d be all up in the air going in to the final weekend.

And in case you were wondering, Araki Fabulous Willy won Crufts.

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Well now, what to say about Saturday’s rugby? Do I use the old “a win is a win” cliché? Or the fact that Ireland won despite not really playing well is a sign of a good team? Or do I moan that they didn’t prepare and never looked like the team that played against England?

Or do I skip all that and ask did a Scottish player try, allegedly, to kill Ronan? Or what was Eddie hoping to achieve by bringing that up in a press conference? Or should I simply despair of RTE’s commentators who didn’t see the incident at all. Supposed to be watching the match they made no mention of ROG going limp on the pitch, or of John Hayes putting him in the recovery position, or of that seeming to be the reason the ref blew up when he did? Maybe they have the excuse that they were watching the play continue, but that doesn’t really work because Ronan was at the bottom of the pile of bodies, and I could clearly see that something was very wrong. As could everyone else around me. And we were watching in a pub, with not a fantastic view.

Or maybe we’ll just ask, how upset would you be if you were Welsh? Or should you have known that it’d take longer than ten seconds to make it to the line-out and so you should have gone for the draw?

Talking points that I’m sure will fill column inches.

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It’s Friday.

Pic nicked from here

I think a long lie-in will be had tomorrow. Although not too long, obviously, as the match starts at half one, so I’ll have to be up for that. Scotland- you going down! fingers crossed, touch wood, etc etc.

Denis Hickie has been having back spasms^[1] and so Geordan Murphy has been called in. I likes Geordan, and was disappointed for him when he was dropped out of the squad last time. Still, it is a great position for the team as a whole when players as good as Geordan can be left out.

There has been some talk of rotating the squad a little, giving some players more game time and resting a few of the others. Obviously with the same squad, pretty much, as last time Eddie O’Sullivan doesn’t agree. And I’ve got to go along with him. We need to win the Triple Crown. The Grand Slam is gone, and the title itself depends on England beating France^[2] which I really can’t see happening, but you’d never know. So anything we win’ll be vital. And lets not forget that it wasn’t too many years ago that we couldn’t beat Scotland for love nor money. So a victory is not to be sneezed at.

Inné, chuaigh mé ag imirt péile, well, soccer I suppose. Nó, sheas mé on the pitch, and kicked a ball once or twice. Bhí mé ag smaoineamh, agus ceapaim that I haven’t played soccer in something like 15 years. In ainm Dé! How old am I?

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But first:
Jonny Wilkinson may be out injured again. Seeing as how he is an English rugby player, I shouldn’t be fan^[1] but I just find this really sad. He is such a fantastic player. I wouldn’t say he is better than Ronan, cause that’d be a traitorous action, and I really dislike the way England played to win the World Cup. You know, all forward play^[2] and penalty and drop goal kicking. You can’t blame Wilkinson for that though.

But to have his career blighted by so much injury? You’d really have to wonder has some gypsy out a curse on him, or does he simply not have the fitness/medical team around him. Is he needed so much as a player that his various coaches don’t let him recover enough from an injury before rushing back into play? Or is it simply his style of play. After all out-halves aren’t usually known for their defensive work, but Wilkinson is not lacking in that department^[3] Whatever the reason, it is a pity.

Luna Nina says:

1. Nude ::
2. Support ::
3. Rachel::
4. Crane ::
5. Candy bar ::
6. Material ::
7. Mind games ::
8. Eviction ::
9. Produce ::
10. Joke ::

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