Ewan McKenna on Irish Rugby- Time to Put up or Shut Up

Donnielighto wrote: »

Is there anything Irish he supports so?

Kildare GAA.

he wrote a smashing book about Oisin McConville called the gambler.

I think he has gone a bit too far but he’s a necessary voice in Irish media . He’s gone after farah,Salazar,Dublin gaa . And he has a point. Irish rugby fans and team are fairly sacred cows. This forum is one of the more inhospitable ones on boards . It really is a circle jerk at times.

Well sorry for posting it again but it’s in reply to guys like him

We all know the Shankly quote, about life and death and sport. To people like him it was more important. To normal people its a flippant remark. To a sports person it is their life. It’s what he grew up doing, living, breathing. Marketing and the social media saturation and dour quotes have killed some of the mystery and the Shankly’s. Yet sport still stirs. Shankly’s abound.
Rugby is a different gravy in some parts. Mistrusted, disowned, misunderstood. You may hate rugby, Breffni, the marketing, the rules, the jocks, Irelands call, sport or life itself. This Saturday sit yourself down, stir your tea. Sip your early pint or cool the porridge. Morning mindfulness. Turn on the telly, to the match. Watch a little. You’ll be better for it. Forget about the talk of elites, of posh people, of marketing taglines and teams of us. Drink in the joy of Irish people striving for their Island. Admire the game for what it is, a normal sport played by normal men. What makes them extraordinary is that they do it for you.
For Its only our Island, North and South, sitting westerly in the Atlantic, cold and windswept, warmed by firesides and stories, throughout the rugged green lands, taking on another rugged small island , with their own different story. Green versus Black. Might versus Might. Gladiators at our disposal, but human beings beating underneath.
First things first, rugby is not the people’s sport. It’s not even the World’s sport. It’s just a game followed and played by women, children and men in all the counties of Ireland. You can’t put jumpers down for goalposts. It has hard rules and hard hits. Neil Francis exists in a rarefied air. Never have i heard these words uttered in any club game or ground. There were bad periods. Greats like Ger Earls looked at like he had two heads for daring to live in one of Limerick's toughest parts, and at times even for Munster, and uncapped for Ireland. His son, also from Moyross plays for Ireland. Things have changed, more to go.
Its only a sport, not a barometer of class or creed or faith. Tip, tag, touch, amateur, semi pro, professional. All with the same muck on their faces and fires in their bellies. Big people, small people, fast people, slow people. Its a distraction, a dollop of passion in a world where we spend more time in work than at home, pay the bills, fix the car, dream of summer breaks. Sport all across this Island enables people to dream. Locally, nationally. Sport isn’t for one or the other, it’s for everybody. While we erode it with marketing slogans and taglines, thousands of innocent children lace up their boots, and cheered on by the mammy or the daddy. It’s still too much centred around certain centres, there is no denying it. Yet a win on the World Stage would do wonders.
The IRFU surely understand that St.Michael’s can not become a sole nursery. Yet James Ryan, a Michael’s man, his grandfather a man of the rising. Perceptions, cliches, contradictions of identity abound in Irish life. Names that resound through Irish history and modern life like Cusack, DeValera, Canning, O’Sullivan, MacCauley played the oval ball. Men like Richard Harris spoke in breathless terms of Irish rugby. His heroes were the rugby men of of his city of Limerick. Christy Moore propped and pored the porter up in Bective. People like Ewan MacKenna talk of elites. But i took the field with plumbers, bankers, foreign men, gay men, selfish men, selfless men, workers, slackers, jacklers, tacklers, talkers, moaners, wingers, singers losers and winners. I was a ruck inspector myself.
Rugby, like hockey and cricket is played on an all Ireland basis. Its a building block to a brighter and better future. It’s shown that we can live and build in peace. North and South united in sport. Compromises, of course. But its worth it as it banishes the brexit blues and the awkwardness of partition. There may never be a United Ireland in name, but if there is, a Irish rugby team winning a World Cup would surely be at the heart of it. At least we will be united in passion and distracted at least for awhile.
For me personally, rugby has got me through some very dark parts of my life. The camaraderie, the spirt, the suffering, the challenge. Tears shed as I questioned the very meaning of who I was. It was just luck that i played rugby no other reason. 80 minutes battle fare, changed the narrative, shifted the mood.
There is more important things then sport, yes, but it is the great distraction. The dollop of passion and pride. And worth. One we all need at some time or another. Watch it with friends, loved ones. Roar it on. Cheer. Cry. Hug. Sing. Feel the passion of the Island come through your veins. Its only for a small while. Eighty minutes to put the talk of elites or society away. All that nonsense drifts away. These are 23 men fighting for their Island, for glory on the global stage. They chose nothing for their lives, only dedicated themselves since small children to one pursuit and passion. How does Ewan Mackenna, an avowed sports lover hate that?

As Richard Harris said, these are our square jawed gladiators, taking to the pit with the green on their backs. They’d do it for free like some of their fathers before them, but they don’t and so what of it. Some of them will go out on their shields tomorrow, their bodies broken, their hearts and lungs burnt. I stand up for them, my fellow Irish man. Even though I use this imagery freely we all know deep down it isn’t war or battles, it’s sport and the human spirit.

Hate it fear it, despise it. But know by doing so all you are doing is hating on your fellow Irish who strive to entertain us. Are you not entertained as the great Maximus once cried. There’s no pleasing everybody. That is ok. Don’t watch, turn off. Switch off. Nobody is forcing rugby on you. Its a sport. Just a sport. After the whistle, after the blood and guts, the hand shakes and the muttered words, us mortals will shuffle on our coil back to the taxes and the work. Win with humility, lose with dignity, or is it the other way around. Why cannot it be both. Tomorrow we will be better for it all.

The Ewan McKenna’s of the World will sit in their dens, waitng and watching. For what , only they truly know. They don't see the hard work behind it all. They think they see it. Money and power, i I have no idea what that World is when it comes to the clubs i know. Its a world of mothers, brothers, fathers, uncles, families. Community, a sense of shared values. Its more than a game of ball. This isn't it a rugby trait this is a sporting trait. Built in clubhouses up and down, throughout the country, in fields, in sheds, in gyms, on boats and in one horse rooms with a dusty whiteboard and three cones.

The old alikadoos who run a club, the volunteers who paint the pitches, the players who sweep the changing rooms. The captains and titans that inspire generations. Brown boards, perched on walls with names carved and etched deep in them. Names of long ago and just last week. When i walk into a clubhouse and look up and see those names it means something. I look around the walls to the pictures and ghosts of the past. It means something. You don't have to be a rugby man or a rugby woman to get in touch with that spiritual side of sport. You don't have to be Irish. You just have to dust the bitterness down and realise that sport is a gateway to a better self. That's a sportsperson. If anything, going back to those humble beginnings and tight communties can do wonders to block out the modern stresses of doubt, online anxiety, divisions and fears. You can focus on sport. It keeps our instincts honed and our spirits high. If you think thats a myth, try it. The Irish rugby didn't just arrive on a Vodafone festooned ship. It was built by these generations and brown boards of names and can now be enjoyed by anybody who wants to.

Lets get behind Ireland as they take on the might of the Rugby World. As Brendan Behan once said if it was raining soup the Irish would go out with forks. If the Irish rugby team wins or loses many people would come out with their fork ready to carve soup. We are a curious stubborn people. Don’t listen to the Ewan Mackenna’s and the haters, the moaners, the gougers, the hypers. Listen to the call of your country and the passion it can provoke.Black versus Green. Island versus Island. We doff our caps at their successes and rugby prowess, but for us today its a new slate. Another hope to pin onto our hearts.