The way things are going at the moment it was a big surprise that the two dogs spotted heading around the back of the stand prior to throw-in for the Kildare-Tyrone clash, didn’t get a mention on a few tabloids, radio bulletins or even Morning Ireland. It must be one of the only happenings in Kildare GAA circles of late that failed to make it to national prominence.
Speaking of Morning Ireland, and RTÉ in particular, wasn’t it great to see all the boys down at Stadium St. Conleth’s to witness Mickey Harte’s Heavies take on The Geezer’s Gents.
I can tell you one thing, you wouldn’t see as many RTÉ big nobs at a Christmas p... up in Montrose than what was in Conleth’s on the day.
Michael Lyster, Ciaran Whelan, the Spillane lad, and they were only the front men. They had more hangers on with them than you’d see at a barman’s funeral.
Then there were the live commentary teams led by Marty ‘how am I looking’ Morrissey; the suave Mr. McStay, while Brian Carthy was spotted shaking hands with two of his favourites, Mickey and Kieran.
Meanwhile the poor match official had to be moved out of his area under the Birds’ Nest to make room for the make-up folk.
I spotted the Spillane lad heading in for some ‘treatment’ prior to going live.
What went in and what came out could only be described as a remarkable transformation.
My God those make-up girls (sorry ladies) know their job. They must be worth their weight in gold.
The Kerry legend headed in for his ‘treatment’ looking like he had been sitting out in the back garden keeping tabs on the wife cutting the grass. and forgetting to put on the bit of sun block.
He eventually re-emerged, minus the casual gear, replaced with a crisp freshly starched shirt and a dapper suit but the sun burnt feasóg had been replaced by a light tan the likes of which you wouldn’t see at the make-up counters at Arnotts or Browne Thomas. I remember saying to meself at the time even the other Pat (Schwer) wouldn’t look as well on Derby Day up at the Curragh
It was so impressive I was on the verge of enquiring if they could do anything for yours truly ... but decided, on mature reflection, that (1) they could only do so much and (2) the Leader’s expenses probably wouldn’t stretch to a bit of make-up.
But apart from the front line TV trio there were more lads and lassies swanning around with clip boards, name tags and job description dockets on their lapels, sure you’d think our good friend Barak O’Bama was going to drop it to see at first hand how The Red Hand lads can walk so close to the line without crossing over it. (Or to be more precise, going about their usual footballing routine without being arrested and charged with intent).
Meanwhile the match official arrived for a cuppa prior to throw-in. Being a Cavan man (handy lift home for Seanie) he left the flask in the car fully aware that whatever else St. Conleth’s has or hasn’t got, it does do a good cuppa and nibble.
Alas, the result was not what we wanted, but what a lot expected.
Mickey’s boys did what Mickey’s boys have been doing for years.
But the big question of the day was never answered.
What the hell were those two dogs up to going around the back of the stand with no tickets, no name tags and worse of all, no bloody job descriptions!