All weekend
The US Masters (Thursday to Sunday) didn’t disappoint. It was great TV entertainment (except for Sky’s constant ad breaks).
Watching Tiger Woods take ten shots on the par 3 12th at Augusta (he hit it into the water three times), millions of run-of-the-mill golfers presumably shook their heads and assured themselves: “I could do better than Woods did there!”
Watching Tiger Woods recover from a significant career embarrassment to then birdie five of the final six holes – including the closing four – put an end to all such daydreaming!
His response to the horrors of Amen Corner wasn’t significant in terms of the ‘business end’ of the 2020 US Masters – won comfortably by the nerveless Dustin Johnson – but it was a reminder of the permanence of Woods’ enduring class.
Sunday (1.30 pm)
I watched Galway v Mayo with just about the right mixture of curiosity and envy. First I flicked to The Championship on BBC, where they had quite a coup, with Mickey Harte guesting on the very weekend in which his reign as Tyrone manager finally came to an end.
Harte had arguably become the Arsene Wenger of the GAA; a brilliant, stubborn, innovative high achiever who probably stayed on too long.
But, make no mistake, his legacy is a great one – three senior All-Irelands for starters. Far from nursing any wounded ego, Mickey was in great form. I got the strong impression that this great GAA man will be back in a dressing room soon enough.
Mayo will be back soon too, their epic All-Ireland quest still very much alive after their deserved win over a Galway team that finished very strongly. Below, I indulge in some humour on this one, but on a serious note, I’m tipping Mayo for the final. It would be the ultimate irony if our neighbours get within 70 minutes of Sam (again) without the wonderful fan-inspired carnival of excitement normally associated with their campaigns. Here’s hoping Mayo can do it.
Sunday (4 pm, not 3 pm)
As the first half neared the 25th minute, Dublin were only beating Laois by three points. Strange world indeed.
Approaching 4 o’clock, I switched the radio channel in the car…to get the news headlines. Although it was actually 4 o’clock, the newsreader said: “And now, the news headlines…at 3 pm”. If that amused me, it was nothing compared to what was coming.
The bulletin included a clip from an interview that Foreign Affairs Minister Simon Coveney had given to Sky News (regarding Brexit).
“Fish don’t hold passports” Minister Coveney announced. He went on to explain that most of the mackerel caught in Scottish waters are “born in the West of Ireland”. They mature here and then “they swim as adults into Scotland’s waters…”
In full agreement that fish don’t hold passports, I switched back to Croke Park, where Dublin were finally beginning to…eh…reel Laois in.
Sunday
In the late 1970’s, I was starting out as a lifelong Leeds United fan. I would remain loyal to the great Elland Road club. But, like millions of other neutrals, I was living on ‘Planet ‘Pool’ in that era, as Bob Paisley’s wonderful Liverpool side dominated English and European football.
There were times when their football was pure poetry. Often they crushed opponents. The atmosphere at Anfield on European Cup nights – always Wednesdays – was electric, the Kop swaying with a hypnotic beauty.
Liverpool had many great players – Keegan, Hansen, Souness, McDermott, Heighway, Hughes – and others.
The Liverpool goalkeeper was the magnificent Ray Clemence. For many years he duelled with Peter Shilton for the England No. 1 jersey.
I remember the goalkeepers of that era with great fondness. QPR had Phil Parkes, Big Joe Corrigan was at Manchester City, the peerless Pat Jennings at Arsenal. A little later, Neville Southall was phenomenal at Everton.
Clemence was unquestionably one of the greatest goalkeepers in the history of the English game, and his death on Sunday – at just 72 years of age – has touched millions of people. He was a great figure of our childhood, respected and loved. He will never walk alone.
Monday
It had been a busy morning for the Mayo diehard. With no celebrations following the Connacht final win – with the pubs being closed and all that – he’d been up bright and early, painting a mural on the side of the hayshed.
All of a sudden, he began to have new flashbacks about that dream he’d had last year. He’d gone to bed after Mayo’s 2019 championship exit, wondering when – if – the great football famine would end. And he’d had the strangest dream…
Now, parts of that dream were coming back to him. It might be an omen. In the dream, a genie had told him that Mayo might win an All-Ireland soon “if the world was stopped in its tracks by an unprecedented pandemic”. The Mayo diehard had scoffed. But the genie had persisted.
“You don’t understand, a pandemic would mean the All-Ireland will revert to being knockout, you won’t have to worry about the Super 8s”.
The Mayo diehard had scoffed again. But the genie had continued with his unlikely message.
“You’ll probably draw Leitrim, then Roscommon in the Hyde” the genie had mused.
“Roscommon in the Hyde won’t be easy, not with the passionate Rossies in the stand” the Mayo man had grumbled.
“But there will be NO spectators allowed in” the genie had said. “Not even Paddy Joe”.
“The GAA allowing Mayo v Roscommon without any takings at the gate?” the Mayo diehard exclaimed. “Far-fetched! This really must be a dream!”
Still, the genie had definitely been building a case for Mayo’s All-Ireland famine to end. The now impatient Mayo man had shaken his head.
“Look, I appreciate all you’re saying, but we’re just jinxed in September”.
“Ah” the genie had responded, “but the 2020 All-Ireland final will be held in December!”
On hearing this ludicrous claim, the Mayo man distinctly remembers looking at the genie as if it had two heads, or just an annoyingly cheerful one that seemed to have sprung out of a lamp.
By then fully aware that he was actually in the midst of a dream, the Mayo man had decided to play along. “Will we have any political influence, will the all-powerful one be in high office?”
“Yes!” the genie had said, “Joe Biden will win”. But the Mayo man was crestfallen, because he’d been referring to Michael Ring.
Hadn’t the genie also said something about Cork beating Kerry, to set up a Munster final showdown with Tipperary? About Tyrone and Mickey Harte being ‘out of the way’? About Joe Brolly definitely not returning to The Sunday Game? About Jim Gavin retiring…
The Mayo diehard looked at his mural – James Horan’s head superimposed on to Joe Biden’s body – and he began to wonder more about that strange dream from last year.
Of course, as with most dreams, he cannot for the life of him remember how it ended…
