SPORTS TOWN
The unforgettable fire of Irish sports
By Christopher Schobert

“I asked someone how much the players were paid,” Mendlowitz writes. “I thought the salaries might not reach the ten-million-euros-a-year mark, but could be around 500,000 for the stars. He just laughed. ‘Nothing. They do it for the love of the game.’”
Whenever I hear about someone with a “fun” job—musician, filmmaker, costumed mascot—I wonder whether or not that’s how they actually make a living. These thoughts creep into my head whenever I see a “where are they now” piece about a former celeb. Do they have enough to get by on?

In the professional sports world, it seems the only ex-athletes who didn’t make enough to live on are those with massive drug habits, or, in the case of the National Football League, pretty much every player pre-1980 who is not currently a broadcaster. But in the world of fringe sports, it is relatively rare to find an athlete who doesn’t have a day job. This is also kind of depressing; it’s a bummer to hear about lacrosse players delivering pizzas, and bowlers working at the casino.

Sportswriter Andy Mendlowitz’s Ireland’s Professional Amateurs is not depressing. In fact, it’s a fascinating, bracing look at two of Ireland’s most popular pastimes: hurling and Gaelic football. The author initially visited Ireland for a vacation, but upon discovering the native love of Gaelic football—a season-ender drew 78,000 fans in Dublin—became fascinated by the sport, and, most specifically, its players. “I asked someone how much the players were paid,” Mendlowitz writes. “I thought since Ireland was a smaller country than the United States, the salaries might not reach the ten-million-euros-a-year mark, but could be around 500,000 for the stars. He just laughed. ‘Nothing. They do it for the love of the game.’”

Mendlowitz’s text is a delight, and not just because of the names (like Seán Óg Ó hAilpín and Éamonn Ó Faogáin). The details really make it stand out. The author uncovers everything from one player’s surprisingly adult-contemporary CD collection (the Bangles, Boyz II Men, Bananarama, and Huey Lewis & the News—no Jon Secada?) to the lingual disparities in watching a dubbed version of The Simpsons (“‘Eat my shorts’ was ‘Ith mo fhobhrist,’ while ‘D’oh’ and ‘Ay Caramba’ did not translate”), the fact that there are no trades or free agency (you play for your hometown), and the country’s casual attitude towards gambling. The book is not just a perfect primer for those interested in the games of Ireland, but for those merely looking for a good cultural read after polishing off John Grisham’s somewhat similarly themed novel, Playing for Pizza.

The Buffalo Spree universe is certainly familiar with Gaelic football; the cover of our July/August 2005 issue featured a band of brawny ballers at play, and writer Chris Stucchio profiled one of the athletes as well. As Stucchio wrote, “Gaelic football clubs are located in cities all around the world. An official game involves two teams of thirteen or fifteen players each … Players advance the Gaelic football, which is similar in size to a soccer ball, by striking it with a fist or kicking it.” The players featured in Spree participated in the Buffalo GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association), the sport’s worldwide governing body.

But what about hurling, the sport Medlowitz says a coach once dubbed “the Riverdance of sport”? Is there a Buffalo link? Are there teams of hurlers at play at Delaware Park that I don’t know about? Is the sport of frolf (Frisbee golf, doncha know) actually a front for embarrassed hurlers? My investigation, which, admittedly, consisted of a few minutes of Google searching, uncovered a New York Times article from August 29, 1901, that showed the Queen City was center stage in the hurling world at one point. Awkwardly headlined “Irish Sports at Buffalo,” the piece began as follows: “The Irish sports held in the stadium at the Pan-American Exposition this afternoon attracted the usual large crowd … The hurling contest was watched with much interest. The match between the All-Ireland team and the Kickhams resulted in a victory for the latter by a margin of two points.” Is this the same type of hurling Mendlowitz writes of, the kind featuring curved sticks and goals? And who are the Kickhams? I’m not sure, but if I’m wrong, letters pointing out my error should be flooding the office soon. In any event, it seems that Gaelic football, more than hurling, has achieved continuing success in North America (although, as the author points out, ninety-nine percent of the players in Boston’s senior league are Irish-born).

It’s hard not to root for players like Johnnie Daly, a star who, in Mendlowitz’s words, is about to “enter a night of pain” in preparation for a semifinal game. Yet Daly “already had a difficult day. His three-month-old daughter, Sophie, kept him and his girlfriend up most of the night with her first cold. By the time he got to his job in the government’s motor tax office, thankfully there were not bags under his engaging dark green eyes … During his ten-hour shift, Daly renewed licenses and eased customer concerns as two lingering injuries—a tender hamstring and a sore back—forced him to stand instead of sit at a stool. It was all a juggling act with sports vs. real life. Today, real life was winning.”

But some days, real life gets trumped by the joys of competitions, especially the days when an underdog franchise beats a heavily favored rival. “For most of the players, it was their one shot at national glory, a kind of Irish Hoosiers in which villages of a handful of thousands faced off against large towns and cities,” Mendlowitz writes. Hmm, a ragtag group of against-all-odds little guys in a fading burg taking on a mighty group of studs from a better-populated locale? Sounds like the struggle of, well, every Buffalo sports team, ever. It’s no wonder Gaelic football is so close to our green-tinted hearts.

Christopher Schobert is of Irish ancestry, but far too delicate for such Gaelic shenanigans. He’s much more comfortable with a pint of guinness.


Back to the Table of Contents

Back to Top