The World Cup wouldn't be in it!

Pausing for a few seconds while channel flicking on Sunday, I was reminded of the World Cup soccer players and their histrionics at the mere whiff of an opposing player coming near. One Portugal player, for instance, got a slight poke in the eye while going into a tackle. The game had to be stopped. Two men came on with a stretcher while another splashed Lucozade into the injured eye (a sure-fire cure if ever there was one). Possibly an ambulance was called and the city's Major Accident Plan put into effect, I don't know. In any event, it turned out to be a loose eyelash.

In the few seconds of the Gaelic Football match I has channel-surfed to, the attacking player ran up the back of the defending player, down the other side, dropped lightly by the wriggling heap that was his cursing opponent (trying furiously to regain his feet and continue on), before the referee finally blew his whistle. The offence was picking the ball up off the ground.

The hospitals would be full of over-paid soccer players. Roll on compromise GAA/soccer rules!

Football crazy

All this World Cup stuff has the kids out on the green space opposite the house kicking footballs up and down into a fold-up plastic goal from the Argos catalogue. It even has a net.

When the Ryder Cup is on the telly, golfballs will be whizzing by the windows night and day.

We did the exact same as kids, other than the fact that money was scarce, so the luxury of a "real goal" with a net wasn't an option. Instead the goals were marked with either two or four piles of jumpers or coats. Arguments raged over high shots being "over", as there was no crossbar, but I don't remember many rows over balls hitting the imaginary posts.

There were usallly two of three of the "big boys" who were better at soccer skills (or who thought they were) and so these naturally were the team captains who would pick the teams. My skill at football amounted to owning a ball and writing all over it and little more, so I tended to be in the bottom league of choice picks, usually last or second last. I didn't mind. I would infuriuate everyone by "hatching" almost in the goalie's pocket so that if the ball came remotely near me I'd have a good chance of scoring. This was considered unsportsmanlike conduct, but was only ever brught up by the team scored against, not by my team-mates.

As Edmondstown National School gradually lost children in the late 1970s the number of playmates dwindled until every boy, regardless of the class he was in or whether he knew how to tie shoelaces yet was drafted into the daily game. As many of the pupils had defected to the modern Scoil Mhuire in Ballyboden, we started an after-school game: Edmondstown vs Scoil Mhuire. It was a daily drubbing on the soccer field for Edmondstown, I'm afraid. I think we may have managed a draw once, by some miracle.

A brother from the Augustinian College would occasionally act as a real impartial referee when it got to the stage where we couldn't be trusted to keep the rules ourselves. Until then, any disagreement was referred to the final arbitration of a short wresting match between the captains. We tended to lose at that as well, so the introduction of a referee was a positive step.

I've seen a few professional players at the World Cup kicking the air and falling flat on their faces as nerves get the better of them on this high occasion. Glad to see my skill sets are not unique.