There is a theory about the catastrophic collapse of Gaelic games in Belfast during the 1970s and 1980s. The Troubles were at their worst during those decades and participation in hurling and football fell away dramatically because it was no longer safe for young men and women to be openly associated with the GAA.
This was, and is, a society that demanded identifying badges and cultural signifiers. In that environment, sport proved to be one of the most potent and reliable ways of marking out a territory and fixing on those who did not belong within it. It became impossible for those involved in the organisation of the GAA in places like north and west Belfast to function normally and for many the pressure became intolerable.
Seventy miles away in Omagh we were relatively cocooned from the extremes of life in Belfast but there was still a distinctive value system in operation. This was all unspoken but it was right there in the fabric of everyday life. Gaelic football and hurling dominated the sporting curriculum at our school. We didn't play rugby, soccer or cricket and it barely occurred to us to reason why.
The impact of all of this has been fundamental and far-reaching. Over 20 years later and in a political climate which, so we are told, is radically transformed from that of a generation ago we still play the same games of division. The only thing that has changed is that it is now significantly more subtle. Nobody will come out now and say boldly that the GAA is merely a sporting front for militant Nationalism or declare stridently that rugby is basically the ruling Protestant middle classes at play. The new found politics of attempted consensus wouldn't stand for such ill-informed tribalism and rightly so.
But the mindsets that provide the breeding ground for these blinkered positions and perspectives haven't gone away. They have just become more adept at dressing themselves up in more ideologically acceptable clothes. The society-wide moves towards accommodation have made this is a better place to live but their net effect has been to drive many of the divisions underground. Bigotry and the politics of difference have not simply disappeared overnight in some great collective rush towards peace, love and understanding. They have just reinvented themselves.
Evidence of that can be found in the most unlikely places. Even mainstream politics is not immune. The appointment of a new Secretary of State for Northern Ireland always promotes feverish speculation as to his or her political leanings and the implications that may have for the way in which he or she performs here. So it was last week with the exit of Peter Mandelson and the hasty arrival of John Reid.
The new Secretary of State's background was raked over but there was a general tiptoeing around the fact that he was the first Catholic to hold the post. One of the more interesting tit-bits was that the Glaswegian is a long-time Celtic supporter. This was supplemented by reports that Reid had, in fact, been a founder member of the Celtic supporters club at Westminster. All of this became a major talking in the two or three days after his appointment. Never mind where he stands on decommissioning, demilitarisation or police reform. Your man's pure Celtic.
The new minister's football affiliations fitted perfectly into the newly refined language of political debate here. The topic was raised in a succession of radio and television interviews given by prominent Unionist politicians and the discussions proceeded in the same jovial and light-hearted, way. "Oh yes, I heard about this Celtic thing. I'm a Rangers man myself so I'm not really able to say much until we start winning again. Ha, ha, ha."
This was classic 21st century Northern Ireland speak. Everyone knew that John Reid was a Catholic but rather than risk criticism by saying that outright, it was more convenient for politicians to couch it all in football terms while, at the same time, leaving no-one in any doubt about his background. Not that any of this is one-way traffic. When the input of another Northern Ireland office minister was being discussed a few years ago, a recurring theme was that he was a Rangers supporter from Glasgow. From there, the public at large was invited to join up the dots.
These little snapshots reveal much about contemporary life here and, in particular, the role that sport plays. The wisdom we are constantly invited to accept is that it functions as some kind of neutral, unifying benign force. Its power and strength, we are told, can be harnessed and used in the struggle against all the forces of negativity and division. The reality is altogether more complicated and suggests that sport has a potency that drives it right into the heart of the political system.
Why else would such efforts be made to address the issue of sectarianism in local football? Why else would so much media and PR energy have been devoted to pointing up the "feel-good" factor generated by the Belfast Giants ice hockey team?
Sport matters here and it matters because the sporting choices we make go a long way towards revealing and explaining, for some at least, what sort of person you are. Which Scottish football team you support, whether you're a GAA or a rugby person, Northern Ireland or the Republic. These are all cultural choices with hidden resonances and meanings.
Despite the optimistic noises that all of this is now part of our past, it seems that precious little progress has been made. The tribal instinct remains as strong as ever. The school you went to, the games you played there, the teams you follow now - all of these details are still used to construct an identity and place you in one camp or another. The depressing thing is that nobody escapes. John Reid knows all about that.
