Tyrone Manager Harte blamed for global economic woes

The World Bank with the support of the G8 leaders has sent a stern letter to the secretary of the Tyrone GAA County Board blaming manager Mickey Harte for the current global recession.

“The economic downturn is all due to the actions of one man, Mr Michael Harte of Glencull” said Brad J. Hackenbacker Jnr III, chairman of the Wunch of Bankers Association of America.

President Obama has called on Mr Harte to come clean about his misdemaeanours. “He might be a great manager and an inspiration to his team” said the president, “and I congratulate him on his recent All-Ireland and Ulster successes, but that doesn’t absolve him of the blame for our dire financial situation, which he must be held to account for.”

Piet Van Aardvark, managing director of Net Blankes, a South African company specialising in the distribution of washing machines, cookers, fridges and other white goods which recently went into liquidation slammed Mickey Harte for his irresponsible actions. However others claim that the poor quality of Van Aardvark’s goods was to blame for the company’s downfall. In the 1980s the washing machines supplied by the company were unable to wash coloured garments as the dyes used were likely to cause internal damage to the machines. To this effect each product came with a “whites only – no coloureds” warning notice, which was wrongly interpreted as a racist slogan. Cyril Mbsekwe, chairman of the Associated Consumers Network (ANC) dismissed Van Aardvark as an incompetent businessman and a publicity-seeking fantasist who simply wanted to blame Harte for his own mistakes as he was a disgruntled Armagh supporter from the Orange Free State.

Van Aardvark has since set up a new company called Afri-Kans a continent-wide distributor of aluminium drinks containers. “If we went into liquidation this time I would consider that a very bad pun”, he was quoted as saying yesterday.

The CIA has issued an arrest warrant on the Tyrone boss, but said it would also like to question the Dutch entrepreneur Mikey H’Aart, president of the Global Assets Association (GAA) headquartered in Tyrone, Pennsylvania. H’Aart, a wildlife conservation enthusiast has a number of failed business projects behind him. In 2005, he lost millions of dollars after the construction of a sanctuary for endangered frog species called Croak Park went way over budget.

Mickey Harte was approached by a scrum of reporters and photographers from the international media while attending a fundraising event at Drumquin community centre, but denied any liability for the global recession.

Visa Card Apartheid Flags to be banned in the Rainbow Nation?

The South African political commentator Khaya Dlanga has called for the old apartheid-era national flag to be banned, echoing the ban on swastikas in post-war Germany, after a rugby supporter was spotted waving the said item at a recent rugby match. This flag (when turned upside down) always used to remind me of the Visa card logo – which begs the question was the old SA government receiving secret donations from Visa to prop up its regime? Will Visa cards also be banned? There are obvious connotations for oppression and bigotry (not to mention unwelcome bank statements!) associated with this flag harking back to the days when 80% of the population had no say in the running of the country. And the presence of the union jack and Dutch flag in the middle tier serve as a reminder of the country’s colonial past, which many South Africans would no doubt like to forget. While we’re on the subject, it baffles me as to why independent progressive countries like Australia and New Zealand still insist on having the union jack in the top left corner of their flags as if to remind themselves of the legacy of their colonial past – particularly when you think about the animosity with “the poms” when it comes to cricket and rugby. Yet they insist on holding on to the apron strings of Mother England, a sentiment which means little to the average Maori or Aborigine. The Brazilians don’t have a Portuguese flag on their national flag, the Mexicans don’t have a Spanish flag on theirs. But that’s a whole new debate.

 Back in the day South Africa was not a popular country. I remember hearing on the news around about 1985 of an incident in Dublin when a supermarket check-out girl refused to sell a customer South African fruit. A number of well-known rock musicians got into trouble for playing at the infamous Sun City resort. During his incarceration Nelson Mandela became an iconic figure throughout the world and championed by some of the biggest names in entertainment from Peter Gabriel to Sting. Yet to the shame of western governments who refused to impose economic sanctions on SA, apartheid continued for much longer than it should have. Gold, diamonds and oranges were obviously more important to them than social justice. However western powers continue to back totalitarian governments from Saudi Arabia to Uzbekistan when it ties in with their selfish, strategic or economic interests.

Oppressive regimes were (and still are) present in several other African countries of course, but unlike many of these countries SA was no impoverished third world tin-pot dictatorship. This was a supposedly developed forward-looking civilised western society.
A few white South Africans still no doubt nostalgically yearn for a return to the “good old days” when “kaffirs” knew their place, but the rest of the world has moved on.
These were bizarre times indeed. These were the days when black South Africans supported anyone but their own country in rugby, though not long before Mandela in a Springboks shirt made the noble gesture of presenting the world cup to the victorious SA team.

The apartheid regime was a goldmine for satirical comedians. The 1970s comedy team The Goodies brilliantly sent up the concept in this classic episode (the best bits happen around 1 minute and 35 seconds into the clip) where they introduce a new law called “apart-height” which discriminates against short people.  There was also the Spitting Image song “I’ve never met a nice South African” – which although a little harsh and inaccurate, it is mildly amusing (unless you’re South African of course). I should say at this point, that having lived in London for the best part of a decade, I’ve met many nice South Africans. It’s also worth pointing out that even South African comedians like Peter Dirk-Uys were ridiculing their own government at the time.

We also had films like Richard Attenborough’s Cry Freedom, a portrait of the life and death of political activist Steve Biko and his friendship with the white journalist Donald Woods. After Hollywood had endured much criticism for its politically incorrect habit of portraying villains as black or Hispanic, one of the films in the Lethal Weapon series featured white South Africans as the main bad guys, a fashionable trend at the time.
How things have changed. But although that democracy now prevails in SA, things are far from sweet and rosy. It’s the all too familiar story of yesterday’s oppressed becoming today’s oppressors. The Catholic church in Ireland endured centuries of persecution under British rule, but when part of the country gained independence, the church abused its special position and became a brutally oppressive institution aided by the state for the best part of 50 years.

There are striking parallels here with the ANC. The current SA government’s incompetence in dealing with AIDS in the country, its inability to effectively deal with the violent crime epidemic, its refusal to take Mugabe to task over the catastrophe engulfing Zimbabwe and the widespread accusations of corruption and nepotism within the party as an elitist minority lives the high life, while the majority of citizens live in poverty all beg the question – has anything really changed?
We’re now back the flag question. In a country which supposedly prides itself on diversity and freedom of expression, banning the old flag, as some commentators have pointed out would be counterproductive. Practical reasons aside, it’s unlikely that a drunken Afrikaaner will stick his flag into a chip & pin machine by mistake instead of his credit card when paying for the Oranjeboom and biltong for the braai at the local supermarket. It could do irreparable damage to the machine – not to mention the flag.

I’m reminded of a well-documented incident in the 1960s when the then young firebrand preacher Ian Paisley protested at the presence of an Irish tricolour (which was at the time banned in Northern Ireland and few if any were openly displayed even in nationalist areas) at the Sinn Féin office on Belfast’s Falls Road. A mob encouraged by Paisley converged on the premises and smashed the window in an attempt to remove the offending flag. A few days later, in response to this incident hundreds of tricolours were put up all over West Belfast. I’m sure some of them are still there to this day.

Lessons to be learned indeed.

 

 

 

Eoghan Harris makes another “balls-up”

Talking out of his Harris

I’m not a regular reader of the sensationalist fascist rag known as the Sunday Independent (the Irish paper that is – not to be confused with the English Independent on Sunday which is almost at the opposite end of the spectrum even though they share a common owner).  However one of my local pubs has complimentary copies – useful if the toilets run out of paper.  Anyway I was in one particular establishment watching Tyrone beat Armagh in the Ulster Championship.   I will concede that its GAA coverage is good – rather ironic considering that certain columnists on other pages have an aversion to the association and view it in a similar way to which the Ku Klux Klan view people of dark skin pigmentation.

One particular columnist Eoghan Harris churns out the usual bullshit.  I don’t pay much attention to what he says as it’s mostly arrogant, self-opinionated bollocks anyway, but if it’s factually inaccurate it’s worth noting.   He’s been called many things over the years by other bloggers, such as Infactah, Cedar Lounge, Maman Poulet, Green Ink, Associate Notes, Tangents  and Adam Maguire - most of them fairly accurate. 

In the wake of the Ryan Report detailing cases of abuse of children in the care of various institutions of the Irish Catholic church, Harris touches on Fianna Fáil’s (at worst) alleged complicity with the church or at best its failure to come down on the church harshly enough.  He cites a story from the 1950s which would seem to contradict this notion.  A certain bishop had urged football supporters to boycott a match between the Republic of Ireland and Yugoslavia because of a cardinal imprisoned by Tito for alledgedlt being a wartime collaborator.  It seems however that the cute hoors of the Soldiers of Destiny went against the bishop’s wishes:

“far from bowing to the archbishop, the prominent Fianna Fail shadow minister Oscar Traynor threw in the ball to start the match at Dalymount Park on October 19, 1955”

Although Eoghan obviously likes his detail right down to the exact date of the match, this couldn’t possibly have happened, as he makes a glaringly obvious error.  It looks like he’s getting his ball games mixed up.  As any schoolboy knows soccer matches start with a kick-off, not a throw-in.  At the start of Gaelic football matches the ball is of course “thrown in” by the referee. However I’m pretty sure there were no GAA teams in Tito’s Yugoslavia. 

So not for the first time Harris is (quite literally!) talking balls. I’ve written a letter to the editor pointing this out (albeit in a more subtle and diplomatic manner), but won’t be holding my breath regarding publication next Sunday.

61 years on – Ireland grandly slam door on Welsh hopes

As a Tyrone supporter I know all too well what it’s like to savour the joy of winning a long eluded prize after years of heartbreak and frustatration. And from an Irish rugby perspective 61 years is a long time to wait for a grand slam.

It was a closely fought contest with a few heart-stopping moments, especially when Wales went ahead with 5 minutes to go. But I knew that Welsh penalty in the last minute wasn’t going to go over. The Tommy Bowe try and the Ronan O’Gara drop goal will linger long in the memory.

A highly partisan crowd, (although not all were there for the rugby – a few were watching the Newcastle v Arsenal match on the other screen) in Toolans in North Finchley, scarcely recovered from the St Patrick’s Day celebrations of a few days previously went wild as the final whistle blew. It wasn’t easy, but grand slams never are.

Kingdom gets revenge as Red Hands catch the wrong balls

Ryan McMenamin lectures Marc O Sé on the complexities on the credit crunch and recommends a shave

It’s not often I get to see Tyrone play live in the flesh, due to being in London most of the time.  However, this weekend I got to watch a now mostly clean-shaven team do battle against Kerry at Healy Park, Omagh - rather than my usual match-watching haunts of the Erris, Toolans or the Wishing Well in NorthFinchley. 

Suffice to say the better team won.  Kerry took their chances, while Tyrone caught all the wrong balls. 

On one particular occasion quite literally.

Maybe getting rid of the beards wasn’t such a good idea.

Violent Thug McGinn gets just desserts

I was disgusted to hear of the appalling violence which marred the Tyrone county GAA football final,

in which Dromore manager (and former Tyrone player) Noel McGinn was caught on camera head-butting a Clonoe player. However, in a way thought I also felt somewhat vindicated by the (in my opinion lenient) 72-week ban handed out to McGinn – for more personal reasons.

McGinn was a teacher in my primary school back in the 1980s. As a county player at the time, he had a real chip on his shoulder and thought he was the dog’s bollocks. On one occasion I got involved in a fight with a boy from McGinn’s class. I say “fight”, but in reality very little happened. Nevertheless I was summoned to McGinn’s classroom and interrogated on what had happened. I told the truth, but he refused to believe me and suspected that I was guilty of something more serious. To be honest I wasn’t wholly innocent, but the punishment meted out far outweighed the “crime”. This was a few years before corporal punishment in schools was banned. I received 5 hard slaps on each hand with a solid wooden ruler and (although I’m generally not one to bear grudges ) I’ve had it in for this vicious bullyboy thug ever since.

McGinn’s actions in the classroom mirrored his actions on the field of play. In his playing days he was certainly no saint. As a manger it seems he hasn’t learnt much since then. Headbutting an opposing player was not only a deplorable act of gratuitous violence, it was also an incredibly stupid thing to do considering there were TV cameras present. I commend the Tyrone County Board for acting swiftly in handing out the ban, but McGinn was lucky not to receive a life ban. People like McGinn give Tyrone GAA a bad name. There should be no place in the association for violent thugs like this.

Thy Kingdom come…Tyrone Take All Ireland to Harte

The life of Brian…

“But as the deluge subsides and the waters fall short, we see the dreary steeples of Fermanagh and Tyrone emerging once again. The integrity of their quarrel is one of the few institutions that has been unaltered in the cataclysm which has swept the world.”

…Or some similarly crap pun, but who cares.  I’m at a loss for words at the moment, but the picture speaks louder than words. 

It was a close shave, but Tyrone’s razor-sharp skills blasted Kerry to Kingdom come…

Red Hands Drub Dubs as Ronnie Drew his last breath

It’s been a sad weekend for Dubliners in both the sporting an musical arenas.  In a bizarre twist of fate I found myself celebrating the former and mourning the latter. 

Ronnie Drew RIP

The passing away of Ronnie Drew, former frontman with the Dubliners and celebrated wit, raconteur and all-round colourful character will be greatly mourned the world over.   Drew and his bearded cohorts broke the mould in successfully demolishing the homespun squeaky clean aran sweater-wearing image of folk music with their anarchic brand of bawdy, anti-estabishment music and tongue-in-cheek piss-take of revered and formerly untouchable Irish institutions.

The proliferation of beards among the Tyrone players starting a new trend for facial hair was almost as if they were paying tribute to Ronnie by way of apologising for the demolition of his native county in the All Ireland quarter final.  Written off before the game as a spent force, Tyrone defied the critics in style by producing an inspirational performance.

One shot the Dublin goalie couldn’t shave: It’s back to the drawing beard for the Dubs as Tyrone and Omagh’s Joe McMahon celebrates his razor-sharp skills after scoring a spectacular goal.

GAA and the People’s Republic of Finchley

Maggie Thatcher once famously said that Northern Ireland was British as her constituency, Finchley.  In cerain parts of Northern Ireland, especially in July, you’ll certainly see more British flags per square mile than in the said North London suburb.  Finchley, like many other parts of London has become something of a cultural melting pot.  If you walk its streets, you’ll find grocery stores run by Poles, Iranians and Indians, Turkish, Indian, Chinese,Thai and Japanese restaurants, ads in shop windows or in the local papers for Polish plumbers and various “massage services” provided by foreign girls.  Never mind the illegal trafficking and enforced slavery of young women of course  - as long as there’s a loophole in the law to be found and money to be made.

And like almost anywhere else in North London, you’ll also find Irish pubs.  This raises the more pertinent question – is Northern Ireland as Irish as Finchley?  The discerning GAA enthusiast who finds himself stranded in Finchley on a hot summer’s weekend of Championship action is somewhat spoiled for choice as to where he can watch the match.  Being the culchie redneck bogtrotter from Tyrone that I am, I was naturally keen to watch the red hands do battle against Mayo for a place in the All-Ireland quarter finals.  The highest concentration of Hibernianised watering holes to be found in the area is on North Finchley’s main street.  O’Neills doesn’t really count as it caters more for the plastic paddy than the genuine article.  Of the remaining three, The Wishing Well was experiencing a technical fault, The Erris (bizarrely for a Mayo-owned establishment) deferred in favour of the racing – which left Toolans.   It was a hard-fought battle with many a near-miss and a few scrappy incidents – but I managed to get served in the end.

Euro 2008 – An Alpine Retreat for June

For the last few months I’ve been busy rehearsing for a play, Neil Simon’s comedy Plaza Suite. It was all wrapped up at the weekend, and after a celebratory meal with a few glasses of house red, I’m now finally able to relax. It’s such a relief to get back from work in the evenings without having to rush off to practice curtain calls, try on costumes and perfect lines. The end of the play coincides almost perfectly with the start of what looks like a summer as well as the beginning of Euro 2008. I have to say I’m not unimpressed by the standard of football so far. Out of six matches there’s only been one 0-0 draw. France have been disappointing, but I’m sure they’ll improve – or at least I hope they do, as I’ve got money on them to win the tournament! Holland’s spectacular demolition of Italy harks back to the golden age of Cruyff et al and the “total voetball” strategy of all-out attacking.

The beauty of the European Championships, although always coming a poor second to the World Cup is the tendency for the underdog to triumph. Who would ever have tipped Greece to win in 2004 or Denmark in 1992, after qualifying by default following the break-up of Yugoslavia? The tournament has also produced some of the greatest matches ever, notably the nail-biting France-Portugal semi-final of 1984.

As much as I would love one of the dark horses like Croatia, Romania or the Czechs to bring home the silverware this time (even though this would incur personal financial loss), I can’t see it happening. Pleasant surprises like the Danish default or the German-engineered Greek victory only come round once in a blue moon. 2008 I think will belong to France or Germany. Although, based in what we’ve seen so far it looks more likely to be the latter. And as luck would have it I’ve drawn Germany in the sweepstakes at work.

Incidentally I watched the 2004 final in Palmers Green, a suburb of North London renowned for its large Greek community, and subsequently referred to as Palmers Greece. The scenes in the street that night were unbelievable. Cars driving up and down beeping their horns, fireworks going off, flag waving, singing anf dancing. Joyous times certainly, it was all Greek to me.

Also, as an irrelevant footnote, out of the 16 countries taking part, I’ve visited them all, except for Romania, Russia and Turkey – so ideas for the next holiday destination spring to mind.

I notice the organisers have added a nice touch of retro chic in using the old 1970s style polka dot balls.   Thankfully though we’ve been spared the perms, moustaches and tight shorts.