No way like the GAA way!

Jack Brennan is 16 years old. He displays a healthy interest in sporting matters. A Mayoman, Jack plays rugby for Westport, adores Lee Keegan and has been a devout Arsenal fan as far back as any of us can remember.

Jack’s grandad promised that they would attend an Arsenal match together this season, which, needless to add, generated gargantuan excitement in the young man. But when tickets didn’t materialise for a home match, there was nothing for it but to settle for sitting in the home section of an Arsenal away match.

And so it came to pass that on a recent Saturday, Jack, his dad, Conor and me, headed off on an early flight to Liverpool. From there we made our way out to Goodison Park for the 12.30 kick-off between Everton and Arsenal.

Being a Mayo football supporter, Jack is not unaccustomed to things not going to plan on the day. It had fallen to me to break the news that he couldn’t wear his prized Arsenal top, because we were in the ‘home’ section. Not only that, but Jack would have to choke back the shouts for his team and remain mute and stony-faced.

Here, word for word, are the agent’s written instructions which accompanied the tickets. ‘Do not support arsenal (away team). Please be aware that people with home tickets are forbidden in any way to support the away team. We are not responsible in any way for any complication resulting from irresponsible behaviour: no cheering, do not wear any jerseys, caps, scarves or team colours.’

Try to imagine Westmeath supporters going to Longford or Wexford Park and being told they could only wear the maroon or cheer their team in one little coral at a corner flag!

As it turned out, a few lads around us ‘read’ Jack for what he is, but there was nothing but good natured banter. Most sports fans are fair-minded and sound – and none more so than ‘Scousers’. I worked there in another life, where I supported Liverpool and Tranmere Rovers, but also went to cheer for Everton – and all this in between playing a bit of ‘hungover hurling’ with a motley collection called ‘Shamrocks’!

There is undoubtedly great skill on show on a premiership pitch; but other than that – which is what it should be about – there is no other way to put it than to say that soccer is rotten to the core. Even staying with the players for a moment, the amounts of money they and their managers are paid are both absurd and obscene.

Dirty money is what drives English soccer now and has the greatest bearing on which cabinet will rest the trophy at the end of the season. I was a supporter of Newcastle; and indeed, was invited with a friend into the manager’s (Chris Hughton) lounge the day they won promotion in 2010. But now I cannot shout for them since they sold their soul to Mohammad Bin Salmon of Saudi Arabia.

Same thing with Man City, where Sheik Mansour of the United Arab Emirates buys the success you see on the premiership table. At least there are now finally questions being asked this week, with allegations of more than a hundred illegal financial activities.

Egyptian billionaire, Nassif Onsi Sawiris, owns Aston Villa and Iranian Farhad Moshiri controls the destiny of Everton.

That’s how it is at the top, while down below, a kid can’t wear the colour he wants to a match. Just pause and reflect on the fact that opposing soccer fans, talking the same talk, looking the same and often with the same accents, would happily kill each other were it not for the protection of segregation. In Glasgow you could get clobbered simply for having an inch of the wrong match programme sticking out of your pocket on the street.

Is soccer sick or what?

My son’s father-in-law was a top soccer player with Glasgow Celtic. Sammy Henderson played at the highest level until a devastating knee injury turned him into an accountant.

I have gone to Old Firm matches with Sam – and you know what they are like. Then I took him to Croke Park for his first ever all-Ireland hurling final and he was gobsmacked: gobsmacked by the splendour of the stadium and the fact that nobody gets paid. Sam couldn’t believe how the opposing fans mingled, the smiles, the sportsmanship – not to mention the skill and honesty on the field. On such occasions I feel so proud of what we are – as should every Gael.

It is only fair to mention also the good grace, sportsmanship and fellowship associated with the game of rugby and many other ‘civilised’ sports.

As for Jack… well, Arsenal lost, and so everybody around us was happy and smiling. We walked a mile in silence, and then Jack flicked off the nice shirt his mammy had ironed for him. Underneath the shirt my grandson had on his Arsenal top and with that he stuck out his chest – with just a hint of defiance!

Don’t Forget

A smile is the same in all languages.