Being a good sport
I have never made a secret of my dislike of sport.
Having said that, I have partaken in the past.
I once played rugby for my school. I was damned good at it too, but was suspended from the team after scoring five tries for the opposition. They should have realised that being short sighted was a handicap?
I once played hockey for RTE. For some unknown reason I was co-opted onto the team as an emergency measure. We won the match too, mainly because the opposing team ran out of players.
I used to play darts. A lot. It was the one sport where my abilities radically improved in direct proportion to the number of pints I had consumed. That fell by the wayside though as I was banned from too many pubs.
I have played golf in the past. Once. I even have a full set of golf clubs. Actually I have two sets, as TAT left his set here and forgot about them. It’s not a game that would appeal too much though as it involves a lot of strenuous exercise. Having played it though, I can testify that it isn’t as easy as they make it look on television.
Where is all this leading …… ?
Oh yes.
Doug over at Broadcasting From A Shed pointed me in the direction of a bit of a kerfuffle about Rory McIlroy and whether he is Irish or British. He pointed out that The Journal had a vote on it. For those of you who are sensible enough to dislike sport, apparently McIlroy has won a major golf tournament.
This shite happens every time someone from Norn Iron wins something or loses something. If they win, the Irish call them Irish and the British call them British. If they lose then the Irish call them British and the British call them Irish. It is unbelievably childish but you can regularly witness this phenomenon on both RTE and the Beeb. Who the fuck cares? Is it that important? The fucker played well [apparently] and won the damned thing so what does it matter where he comes from?
The Journal obviously got wind of the fact that I was writing this. They ran scared and added a third option to their poll. Yes – they added the ‘who the fuck cares’ option, but dumbed down on the language a bit. I’m glad to see that that option is in the lead.
Are we actually beginning to see signs of maturity in these Fair Isles?
-oOo-
I forgot to mention…….
If anyone so much as hints that “we are all Europeans now” or any other similar shite, you’ll get what’s coming to you. The Fourth Reich thrives on acknowledgement.
Totally agree with you particularly about the Beeb.
I remember years ago when Mary Peters was in the Olympics she was “Irish” but, a soon as it looked like she was going to win a medal the Beeb immediately started referring to her as “British”.
Idiots !!
If you are from Ireland, North or South, you are Irish. You can carry a passport from Bongo Bongo land if you want. Still Irish.
you said what i was trying to say….but said it better 🙂
it’s very bad taste asking a question like that today i think…and i loved the bit where they add “…the issue of wheter he is british or irish is one that is on everyone’s lips”…..is it ??
Bonjour Grandad,
Did I tell you about two Irishmen who find a mirror in the road.
The first one picks it up & says, “Blow me I know this face but I cant put a name to it.”
The second picks it up & says, “You daft bastard it’s me!”
……………………………………………………………………..
{;o)} P.S. That is me, wearing my beret, and with my beard.
Oh dear, oh dear…..
Oh dear oh dear indeed. I leave this place unattended for a couple of hours and this is what I come back to?
I don’t know why I bother my arse at all……….
Nothing to add, except a smile. 🙂
You’re always good for one of them Grandad.
Aw thanks, Denise. 🙂
I hate bloody Golf. Bunch of Rich or wannabe rich arseholes whacking a ball into little holes on a long walk, bollox. GAA, a good excuse for a brawl in a muddy field. and all the rest.
Now GD, having dealt with the sport issue. I missed your Father’s Day blog, but my excuse is that I was, over the weekend, brought into Grandad Fraternity. Yes my eldest, Slabette produced her very own Slablet. A nice little fella.
I intend to take every little blessing that comes my way. I just wish everyone would stop calling me fucking “Grandad” though.
Wayhay! Welcome to the exclusive club, Slab! Many congratulations to you [and, I suppose, to Slabette]. It’s an honour to be called Grandad, so you had better get used to it. I just passed my tenth anniversary of being one, so I know a little bit about it. Heh!
I hate all that crap, but I hadn’t realised Ireland had stooped to it too. Since when did someone have to win before we supported them?
Is this all the fault of that Roy Keane feller, taking football too seriously in the World Cup?
BWT – Ireland always indulged in that petty one-upmanship. Very childish. Who’s Roy Keane?