Kildare GAA: Any day The Dubs come to town is a good one!

Any day The Dubs come to St Conleth's is a good one.

A day to look forward to.

An occasion to savour.

A time to reminisce.

Recall.

Even rejoyce.

Regardless of the result, or the circumstances.

In days gone by it was a bumper day for the local hostelries.

Maybe not so much these days.

Then again.

But back in the day when the late, great Con Houlihan would be guaranteed to make an appearance and take up his usual position behind the town goals; not a sign of a programme, even a notepad, but he'd make the odd scribble on a loose bit of paper; yet missed very little.

And as sure as night followed day his Monday (or Wednesday) evening column on the back page of the Evening Press was a must-read with that unique style; brilliant prose; and a round-the-houses report that would start with something 'small' in Johnson's (just over the bridge in Newbridge); before moving up to say hello to 'Day Day' in Coffey's; and maybe a quick call to The Arch, before heading over.

Ah, those were the days.

No need for a ticket.

No need for a printed-out piece of paper that had to be pre-booked, pre-paid, or God forgive us from all harm, downloaded to your phone.

How did it all come to this.

But back in those days of yore ...

The banjos.

The music.

The early morning sing-song.

A pint, or two, before the game.

Walk across to 'the field.'

Produce a ten bob note.

Get your change.

Sometimes.

And in you went.

Crowd control?

Don't go there.

Health and Safety began and ended ensuring you had a cap in the back pocket in case of rain as you headed to the game, after a good Sunday morning fry-up.

After Mass, of course.

The veranda over at the barracks side would be crowded.

No ticket required.

Locals only.

No exceptions.

But we have moved on.

Now cashless.

Yes cashless.

Who would believe it.

You couldn't even drop a lad a 'ten spot' these days to gain admission.

No ticket; pre-booked and pre-paid; no entry.

How did it come to this.

A pint in The Arch Bar at half-time was rarely out of the question.

Some Dubs would get so settled they refused to leave the 'comfort' of the early house.

And if one was anyway vulnerable, the craic would test one's resolve whether to return for the second half, or not.

Most times one would ... but there were days, there were days ...

Yet, after the game the same boys would be able to tell you how the game went, who played well, who did this or that, scored, missed, you name it, they had it all

And if there was anything controversial during the hour, the lad with the small one and the bottle of stout to wash it down, could always be relied upon to give a first-hand account - through a fog of smoke - of what happened; who was responsible for the fraca and who the referee should or should not have sent to the line.

Different times.

The after-match craic was always something to behold.

How some of them Dubs made it back to The Big Smoke was a mystery.

Many would stay on until the final call.

Sunday closing, for those too young to remember, was ten bells.

I cod you not.

Ten bells.

And not a hint of covid, a pandemic, or even a bad flu.

Great times though.

Great days.

Different times.

... and the game?

Usually The Dubs had something to sing about.

But then again, they sang most times anyway.

No better crowd.

Anywhere.

Welcome to Newbridge.

Enjoy the day.

But not too much.

We could do with the two points on offer every bit as much as yourselves!