Sometimes, in the depths of an Irish winter, hibernation can look like a pretty tempting prospect. If I were of a mind, I would ignore the drop in temperature, pay no heed to the leaves turning from green to brown, and instead just look out for GAA county boards making po-faced statements about how they will investigate fully ‘the unacceptable scenes of violence seen last weekend’, before I’d start preparing my lair and fattening myself for my lengthy sleep.
One tweet with video of the incident had over 900,000 views alone, and given those images’ ubiquity in GAA WhatsApp groups around the country it seems unnecessary to lay out the details again, but an unseemly row broke out at the end of an under-15 football final between Carnew and Kilcoole in Wicklow last week. Within hours the Wicklow county board were releasing a statement promising prompt action and swift justice.
If every county board in Ireland doesn’t have a copy-and-paste statement for just this sort of incident, then they probably should.
I used to work on a nightly sports radio show, and there would usually be two or three of these mass brawls covered in the sports pages every winter.
The ones that really make a splash usually have less to do with the gravity of the incident and more with the quality of the photographer or videographer on hand to capture the moment for posterity. But there would always be enough brawls to choose from, that never seemed to be in doubt.
October is usually high season for this sort of thing, and it was always one of the most frustrating stories to try and work on.
Shrill condemnation
The only comment you’d ever get on the record was that the county board would investigate the brawl as a matter of urgency. Then the reaction boils down to shrill condemnation, and agreement that yes – this is bad, and no – we have no idea how to stop it from happening again.
It would be nice to think that everyone who saw the incident last weekend could see it as a turning point – the man wearing the ‘give respect, get respect’ bib for instance doesn’t need to engage in much navel-gazing, as merely a glance downward should be enough for some lessons to be learned.
However, there have been enough incidents that looked like potential ‘turning points’ in the past to suggest that what we’re actually doing is going around in circles.
County board investigations of this kind always boil down to a case of trying to identify individuals, issuing bans to spectators that will be almost impossible to enforce as they relate to attendance at games in the future, and a general feeling that while individuals are punished and the association suffers reputational damage, nothing really will have been learned or gained from the whole experience.
One detail that jumped out from the subsequent reports was that after tempers had cooled, there was a cup presentation, attended by mentors, supporters and players of both teams, which went off without further incident.
I was trying to figure out why that sentence annoyed me so much, and I think it’s because it spoke to something central to all this. The distinguishing lines between the players on the pitch, the coaches on the sideline, and the fans behind the wire are always far too blurred when it comes to the GAA.
‘Bluster
A match between the Kilcoole and Carnew under-15s is never just a match between two groups of teenagers. It’s still ‘our place’ against ‘your place’, with all the attendant bluster that brings.
Players shaking hands at the end of a hard-fought game is a pretty basic component of competition at any level. The mentors can do that too if they’re so inclined, and the fans of course are free to mingle or stick to their own as they please on the sideline.
But magnanimous post-game shows of sportsmanship are for the players to exchange. If you’re a supporter, then for God’s sake just stay off the field – nothing that happens on there is anything that you can influence.
There appears to be no mental separation between players, mentors and supporters whatsoever. The players play, the coaches coach, and fans should stay the hell out of it, until the game is over and you console or congratulate your own.
It might be ‘our place’ playing ‘their place’, but the honour of the little village is not at stake. That’s the bit we struggle with.
It’s laughable to think that managing to get through a cup presentation minutes after exchanging punches and kicks with a bunch of strangers is something for these adults to be proud of, a sign of respect and honour restored.
If you’re wearing a bib, or a pair of loafers, you’re a non-combatant; both metaphorically and, it seems necessary to point out, literally.
You can care about the result, but you’re not a part of the action. This is the lesson we’ve all failed miserably to learn, and one it feels safe to say after this week that we’ve failed spectacularly to pass onto our teenagers too.
