There’s only one occasion – prior to a most recent weekend – that I can recall sit down protests taking place on a GAA pitch. That being the 1998 All Ireland SHC semi final between Clare and Offaly when Galway referee Jimmy Cooney played two minutes short of regulation time.
In comparison, the complaints of the Offaly people – while wholly justified and eventually vindicated – border on the trivial compared to the battle lady GAA players currently face to attain even a semblance of equality commensurate to how their male counterparts are looked after. Yet, when you look at some other sports, even within Irish sporting circles, male participants aren’t looked after anywhere near how they should be either.
Be that as it may, whatever paltry pittance male participants are getting is still abundantly greater than the mostly round figure lady players are dealing with. Though you sense that, come hell or high water, the much-talked-about charter will have to be enacted and adhered to post haste or the ladies are likely to take their protests to another level. And who could blame them.
I have long been of the belief that inter county players at senior level – male and female – should be paid. After all, they are professional athletes in all but name and deserve to be remunerated as such.
It would be far better to see county team sponsors’ money going straight to players rather than directed to areas you can be sure aren’t as important. No doubt some will liken this to comparing apples to oranges but, when you see the obscene amounts of money being tossed around in conjecture surrounding the transfer window in soccer you realise how deserving of reward GAA stars are.
They are more durable, more skilful, more dedicated and more passionate about what they do than some of the Fancy Dans who can’t do the simple things in their own game well.
Take Declan Rice for example. There’s only one way to describe the sums of money being bandied about regarding his current market – G. U. B. U. For anybody outside of Ireland or not of certain vintage, that’s Grotesque, Unbelievable, Bizarre and Unprecedented.
Coined by an Irish legend arising out of a political scandal of a different era, it’s doubtful does it even go far enough to highlight the utterly scandalous sums of money it’s being touted certain clubs are willing to pay for the current West Ham midfielder.
Now, at this point, it must be stated that, by and large, a dig is not being had specifically at the player here. Though I do not for a second believe Rice is worth the colour of what his current employers are asking for the release of his services. No footballer is.
And that is the salient point here. Look at Jack Grealish. That clown is now more noteworthy for his antics off the field than what he does on it. Granted, you could hardly blame any lad for wanting to go to the trophy factory that is Manchester City.
But, to employ an old adage often used in derision but carries great credence in this case, would he be of any use on a windy night in Stoke? Or, for those of us with long enough memories, a windy night in the great Roker Park when Manchester United took on Sunderland, the wind was that strong that newspapers flew around like confetti and players were in danger of getting hit by the ball every time they kicked it.
Naturally, like every other aspect of life where commodities are at play, the finances within football will of course have been affected by inflation. For example, the first pint of Guinness I ever paid for was £2.10 (it’s been that long since I had one I haven’t a clue what price they are now!) but by way of comparison, when Manchester United sensationally swooped for Eric Cantona from Leeds, the flamboyant Frenchman cost the princely sum of £1.2m.
By the time Sir Alex took Roy Keane to Old Trafford, the £3.75m forked out to Nottingham Forest was a record fee. Ditto the £7m it took to gloriously rub Kevin Keegan’s nose in it (for the first of many glorious times) by prizing Andy Cole away from Newcastle United.
Mind you, The Magpies did a great piece of big money business when they nabbed Alan Shearer from Blackburn for £15m. Which leads me nicely to the point where I actually tuned out from transfer fees when they became more absurd and, well, G. U. B. U.
Even by those bizarre standards, though, the figures being mentioned in relation to players like Rice and Mason Mount and James Maddison are like the gargantuan numbers Sheldon Cooper rattled off like Lotto balls.
It’s not so much the Beautiful Game anymore as the one where financial beastiality calls the tune.
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