The Sour Grapes of Wrath - a Mayo family's journey to the promised land

[Sidney]

The Sour Grapes of Wrath

An Epic Tale of Gaelic Football Adventure in the Wild, Wild West

by John Maughanbeck

Once upon a time there was a family, the Joads, who lived on the Plain of the Yews, in the great state of Mayo. A harsh place, a barren place, but populated by resilient people, their lives shaped by the rocks and the stones that littered that plain. Life was tough for the people there, and for the Joads. But the people were stoic, learning to deal with the regular misfortunes that came their way.

Willie Joad, his son Billie Joad, and Ma Joad lived in a small house on the plain. Willie Joad was a farmer who worked the barren soil as best he could. A humble man, he worked every hour of the day that God would give him. He was a striking, handsome, man, with a moustache and a mane of hair as long as the ones on the odd wild horse that roamed around that plain. Willie Joad did his best for his family.

But then the great heatwave of '13 came, and the land could give no more. It shrunk, shrivelled, and eventually blew away, leaving just rocks and dust. September of '13 was the worst time. The weather forecast was set for rain. The people of the Plain waited expectedly for the drought to end. But the drought didn't end. The rain in Kiltane did not fall mainly on the plain, in fact it never fell at all. That winter was tough. The local Super Valu could only provide so much.

The summer of '14 came, and the people could take no more.

One day, word spread of a far off land, three states away, a land of oppurtunity, a place called Limerick - the promised land, where the mighty River Shannon made the soil rich and fertile and the only drought was that suffered by the Limerick hurlers. But the people of the Plain didn't want to go to Limerick. They wanted to go to the even more promised land - a place called Dublin. But even without maps, they soon learned that the road to the even more promised land would have to go through Limerick.

"We have to go", said Willie Joad. "The journey will be tough, we may not even survive it, but we have no choice. Nothing remains for us here."

And so Willie Joad, Billie Joad and Ma Joad set out in their wagon across the plains. As they travelled, they soon realised that there were other wagons, thousands of wagons, as far as the eye could see, all going the same way, making the same journey. Five, six, maybe seven thousand wagons, most painted green and red, many of the occupants of the wagons shouting, screaming wildly and honking strange horns.

The wagons made their way to the one track that could bring them to the promised land - the N17. Willie Joad drove the wagon slowly but made good progress at first. Good God-fearing folk, the Joad family stopped at the holy shrine of Knock, to give thanks and praise for what they had and for what they might have. And most of all, for a safe journey.

The line of wagons was long and slow, but it kept winding its way down that N17, past the stone walls and the grass so green. The journey was going well so far. And then the plains ended, and the Joads crossed into the state of Galway. This was hostile country where the natives were restless, and didn't like the people of the Plain travelling through. The Joads got past the outpost of Tuam. But as he tried to turn left at Claregalway, Willie Joad could feel a lump in his throat. What is it, Pa? asked Billie Joad.

"Wagons", replied Willie Joad, choking, "thousands and thousands of wagons". The scene was like a battlefield. A crowd of natives had blocked the way. The green and red hordes ground to a halt.

Willie Joad could take no more. He got out of the wagon and collapsed from exhaustion. "Pa", shouted Billie Joad. "You gotta get up." Ma Joad held Billie Joad back. "It's OK, son."

But it wasn't OK. "You have to go on without me", said Willie Joad, lokiing up at his son. "I won't make it to Limerick. But you'll make it to Limerick one day, son". And with that Willie Joad breathed his last breath.
Billie Joad sobbed and fell to his knees.  But Ma dragged him up. "We have to leave him here", said Ma. "We have to make it to Limerick."

By now the natives had dispersed and the way was clear again for the green and red wagon train. Ma drove while Billie Joad sat beside her.

As they passed Oranmore, Billie Joad cried. "Why did Pa have to die, Ma?" I thought you said you saw doctors. Could they not have helped him?"

"No, I was singing a song by the Saw Doctors", said Ma. "We have to go on." "But what about the sandwiches in the back?" asked Billie Joad. "Pa might have survived if he'd eaten some."
"Oh yeah, I forgot about those", said Ma "We'll stop later and eat them. But we have to go on now. We don't have much time. We're already late as it is."

They reached Clarinbridge, and again the way was blocked. "What is it?", Billie Joad asked Ma. "It's that oyster festival. We have to stop. I have to try some", said Ma.

Ma got out and walked as far as the weir, Moran's On The Weir to be precise. "A dozen large and a half bottle of chardonnay, please." As Ma feasted on the oysters, Billie Joad asked her for some of the water she was drinking. "I'm thirsty, Ma."

"This is not water, son", said Ma, who devoured her fourth oyster before forgetting to take the shell off the fifth. It was too late, The shell had stuck in her throat. As she turned blue, a shade of sky blue that brought back bad memories of the drought of September '13, Ma could just about spit out the words to her son. "Billie Joad, you have to go back to the wagon. You have to make it to Limerick." And with that Ma Joad breathed her last breath.

None of the natives could help. None of the natives wanted to help the suddenly orphaned Billie Joad. But he knew what he had to do. He had to make it to Limerick. This was more important than life or death. He raced back to the wagon. As he did he was followed by a friendly young man with a shock of blond hair who was also from the Plain. "Hey lad, any chance of a lift? I'm after losing me buds down in the pub there. I'm the Mini-Mort, by the way, but you can call me Conor."

"I suppose so", said Billie Joad.

"It's fuckin' mental, isn't it, all these wagons?", said Conor. "Hey lad, where's your Ma and Pa?"

"They're dead, they died on the way", said Billie Joe.

"Ah, sorry to hear that, lad. Fair play to ya, yer one hardy buck to shtill be headin' down. Have ya got a marker? Oh wait, I have one meshelf", said Conor, as he took out the marker, lifted up his green and red top and wrote "RIP Ma and Pa Jaod" on his white t-shirt underneath.

"We have to make for Limerick", said Billie Joad. "Right you are", said Conor. "Full shtame ahead for Limerick. Tish' good road from here on in."

Billie Joad and Conor passed into the state of Clare, where the natives had no particular quarrel with the people of the Plain. Billie Joad was learning fast. The wagon picked up speed. "Hand me those sandwiches from the back, Conor", he said to his passenger.

"Right you are. Oh great. Ham salad with avocado. And a bag 'a Tayto. Me favourite" exclaimed Conor with delight. "Get that down ya, horsh. Tish' alright if I have a couple too?"

And so they approached Limerick. But a few miles from the promised land, the red and green wagon train ground to a halt again. "Ah f**k it", said Conor. "We'll have to leave the wagon on the side of the road and walk."

Empty wagons lay strewn across the land as far as the eye could see as the people of the Plain took to their feet and advanced the last few miles. Balls of tinfoil, flasks, straw hats and empty Tayto bags littered the landscape. Billie Joad and Conor walked, walked for miles.

Then Conor ran. "Sorry lad, I see me buds over there drinkin'. Thanks for the lift. Shmell ya later." And with that Conor was gone.

Billie Joad was now alone, but he was not alone. He knew he was near. As he crossed the River Shannon, the dividing line into the state of Limerick, with his people, he knew he had done it. He knew he had reached the promised land.

Suddenly, in front of him, a wall of strange people emerged in front of him. He could hear their conversations. "Where are you from, darling? Oooooh? Mayo? Saaauuucccy!!!"

An old man with a weather beaten face, an anorak and a green and red scarf gave one of these strange people a kick, and grabbed a hold of Billie Joad. "Why did you kick that man?", asked Billie Joad. "That washn't a kick at all", said the man. "If yeh call that a fuckin' kick this country's in a worsh shtate than I thought. The place is gone shoft. But anyway. Keep away from them, lad. They're quare. You don't want to be associatin' with those people. There's no way we're lettin' them put the Gayo in Mayo. What happened with the Roshe of Tralee wash bad enough."

"But you're wearing a scarf?", said Billie Joad. "I thought only the quares wore scarves?^

"It's a fuckin matchday", replied the old man. "The resht of us are allowed wear one on matchdays."

"D'ya remember me?" said the man. I'm yer Uncle Sam from Kiltimagh. I'm Willie Joad's brother. I came down from Dublin on the train. Where's yer Ma and Willie Joad?"

"They're dead", said Billie Joad.

"Ah for f**k's sake", said Uncle Sam. "Typical. I fuckin' knew this would happen. And it's the fuckin' GAA's fault, the bashtards. This fuckin' match should have been played in Dublin. It's a fuckin' insult to us. Here, come on, ye're after walkin pasht the shtadium on the way in. 'Tish back the other way."

And so the green and red hordes descended on the Gaelic Grounds, despite all the people they had lost along the way. packed in tighter than the sandwiches Ma Joad had made that morning were packed in tinfoil.

Billie Joad could hear the people talking. He loved the atmosphere. His Ma and Pa were but a distant memory now. "Tish not a bad 'oul shtadium, sham, is it?" "Grand shpot, bosh. Better craic than at Croke Park, way better. Full houshe an' all. I'm glad they played it here. Have ya' got any cansh left, horshe?"

The teams took the pitch and the people of the Plain roared. Mayo scored, and scored again, and scored again and again, as they mauled the rival green and gold army. Billie Joad was ecstatic as his Uncle Sam raised him on his shoulders.

It had been a memorable day. Two dead parents, a discarded wagon, dehydrated, exhausted, but happy. The journey had been worth it for Billie Joad. The promised land had been reached, and he'd lived to tell the tale.

But the even more promised land lay somewhere over the rainbow. For now.

[Farrandeelin]

Hilarious. My sides are cramped up so much I'll need to go to a hospital tonight to straighten myself up from all the laughing.

[Don Corleone]

Good one Sid. A Roaster sighting is all that's missing.

[macdanger2]

Very good Sid!!

The moneybags Dubs must be able to pay for full time gaaboard posters as well with the amount of time it took you to write that. I'm lucky if I get 4 or 5 hours a day on here, all at my own expense what's more

[seafoid]

I love bleeding  flowers I do I'd love to have the whole place swimming in roses Jaysus there's nothing like nature in Bray do you know that sort of a way the wild mountains then the sea and the waves rushing then the beautiful suburban concrete countryside with fields of rezoned houses and boxy Bertie flats  (and I couldn't live surrounded by greenery) and all kinds of things and all the Evening Herald readers going about that would do your heart good to see the crossword and the sports pages do you know what I mean  and all sorts of shapes and smells and colours springing up even out of the ads nature it is as for them other Dubs saying there's no Sky subscription I wouldn't give a snap of my two fingers for all their sophistication why don't they go and create something I often asked him superior  or whatever they call themselves go and wash the patronising tones  off themselves first then they go howling for the Marks and Spencers ready meals and the cheap Sauvignon  and the Man Utd team dying and why why because they're afraid of following a losing team and not being able to go in on a Monday morning and say "we won" oh yes I know them well who was the first person in the celebrity universe before there was anybody that made it big in Dublin all who  that they don't know neither do I so there you are they might as well try to stop the Sun from being printed tomorrow the Sun is a great sports newspaper bud and great for the celebrities  he said the day we were lying among the discarded chip wrappers on Howth head in the grey Man Utd away jersey  and his matching Man Utd tracksuit bottoms the day I got him to talk to me yes first I gave him the bit of coddle out of my mouth and it was leapyear like now yes 16 years ago my God after that long watery kiss I near lost my breath yes he said was a flower of the Northside shopping centre interflora yes so we are flowers all jaysus wha  Manchester United yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the Sun is  a man's paper  yes that was why I liked him because I saw he understood or felt what a 4-4-2 formation is and I knew I could always get round him and I gave him all the pleasure I could leading him on till he asked me to say did I like Liverpool and I wouldn't answer first only looked out over the sea and the sky I was thinking of so many things he didn't know of like batter burgers  and hen parties in Blackpool and aspirational stuff like Amanda Brunker or Glenda Gilsenan , individuality  available in chainstores nationwide ,  my sister with her flat in Kinnegad and the Dubs playing into the hill all birds fly and I say and washing up dishes to pay the mortgage they called it on the negative equity and the Tv3 celebrities in the front  of  the Mansion House with the cheap necklaces around their pasty necks poor women half naked and the Spanish girls over for the summer laughing at their fake tan and their blonde highlights and the accents and the car auctions in the morning on the M50 express your individuality with a black car and the rugby goys and the accountants in the Next suits and the estate agents and the devil knows who else from all the ends of the south side, so superior and Duke street and the smell of discarded McDonald's and the twitterers  all clicking outside in the smoking zones next to the emergency exits  , they are such fascinating people was what he said  and the poor Eastern European cleaners working  half asleep and the vague fellows in the Irish times Op-ed columns and the wasters in the banks asleep in the shade of the interest rate steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bullshit on the radio and the old castle thousands of years saying yes to the Queen hard to drop that reverence  and those handsome new Brown Thomas outfits  all in white and Denis O'Brien lickspittles like kings asking you to sit down and STFU  and a lettuce leaf for the lunchtime BLT and the whineshops on taxi driver radio late at night in from the airport and the fish and chips and the holidays in the Canaries with BBC and Roast Beef none of that spanish shite and wearing tracksuits or suits depending on social status O that awful Northsider accent and the sea and the smell of it at Ringsend jaysus and the traffic congestion in the morning and thinking that is superior to life down the country with the culchies  and the fig rolls in the fridge along with the cheap apple tarts yes and all the smug  little streets and white and grey and white houses and they all look the same  and the children go the summercamp and they all look the same and the dreams I used to have as a girl of living in a boxy house beside my mother's yes when I put the rose in my hair like the TV3 girls used or shall I wear a red from TK Maxx yes and how he attempted to kiss me under the North Wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my flowerpot  and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all Jo Malone perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and I said would you ever Fook off, Jaysus .

[heffo]

I love bleeding  flowers I do I'd love to have the whole place swimming in roses Jaysus there's nothing like nature in Bray do you know that sort of a way the wild mountains then the sea and the waves rushing then the beautiful suburban concrete countryside with fields of rezoned houses and boxy Bertie flats  (and I couldn't live surrounded by greenery) and all kinds of things and all the Evening Herald readers going about that would do your heart good to see the crossword and the sports pages do you know what I mean  and all sorts of shapes and smells and colours springing up even out of the ads nature it is as for them other Dubs saying there's no Sky subscription I wouldn't give a snap of my two fingers for all their sophistication why don't they go and create something I often asked him superior  or whatever they call themselves go and wash the patronising tones  off themselves first then they go howling for the Marks and Spencers ready meals and the cheap Sauvignon  and the Man Utd team dying and why why because they're afraid of following a losing team and not being able to go in on a Monday morning and say "we won" oh yes I know them well who was the first person in the celebrity universe before there was anybody that made it big in Dublin all who  that they don't know neither do I so there you are they might as well try to stop the Sun from being printed tomorrow the Sun is a great sports newspaper bud and great for the celebrities  he said the day we were lying among the discarded chip wrappers on Howth head in the grey Man Utd away jersey  and his matching Man Utd tracksuit bottoms the day I got him to talk to me yes first I gave him the bit of coddle out of my mouth and it was leapyear like now yes 16 years ago my God after that long watery kiss I near lost my breath yes he said was a flower of the Northside shopping centre interflora yes so we are flowers all jaysus wha  Manchester United yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the Sun is  a man's paper  yes that was why I liked him because I saw he understood or felt what a 4-4-2 formation is and I knew I could always get round him and I gave him all the pleasure I could leading him on till he asked me to say did I like Liverpool and I wouldn't answer first only looked out over the sea and the sky I was thinking of so many things he didn't know of like batter burgers  and hen parties in Blackpool and aspirational stuff like Amanda Brunker or Glenda Gilsenan , individuality  available in chainstores nationwide ,  my sister with her flat in Kinnegad and the Dubs playing into the hill all birds fly and I say and washing up dishes to pay the mortgage they called it on the negative equity and the Tv3 celebrities in the front  of  the Mansion House with the cheap necklaces around their pasty necks poor women half naked and the Spanish girls over for the summer laughing at their fake tan and their blonde highlights and the accents and the car auctions in the morning on the M50 express your individuality with a black car and the rugby goys and the accountants in the Next suits and the estate agents and the devil knows who else from all the ends of the south side, so superior and Duke street and the smell of discarded McDonald's and the twitterers  all clicking outside in the smoking zones next to the emergency exits  , they are such fascinating people was what he said  and the poor Eastern European cleaners working  half asleep and the vague fellows in the Irish times Op-ed columns and the wasters in the banks asleep in the shade of the interest rate steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bullshit on the radio and the old castle thousands of years saying yes to the Queen hard to drop that reverence  and those handsome new Brown Thomas outfits  all in white and Denis O'Brien lickspittles like kings asking you to sit down and STFU  and a lettuce leaf for the lunchtime BLT and the whineshops on taxi driver radio late at night in from the airport and the fish and chips and the holidays in the Canaries with BBC and Roast Beef none of that spanish shite and wearing tracksuits or suits depending on social status O that awful Northsider accent and the sea and the smell of it at Ringsend jaysus and the traffic congestion in the morning and thinking that is superior to life down the country with the culchies  and the fig rolls in the fridge along with the cheap apple tarts yes and all the smug  little streets and white and grey and white houses and they all look the same  and the children go the summercamp and they all look the same and the dreams I used to have as a girl of living in a boxy house beside my mother's yes when I put the rose in my hair like the TV3 girls used or shall I wear a red from TK Maxx yes and how he attempted to kiss me under the North Wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my flowerpot  and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all Jo Malone perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and I said would you ever Fook off, Jaysus .

Jaysus Seafoid, you're veering close to Syferus territory there.

[Syferus]

I love bleeding  flowers I do I'd love to have the whole place swimming in roses Jaysus there's nothing like nature in Bray do you know that sort of a way the wild mountains then the sea and the waves rushing then the beautiful suburban concrete countryside with fields of rezoned houses and boxy Bertie flats  (and I couldn't live surrounded by greenery) and all kinds of things and all the Evening Herald readers going about that would do your heart good to see the crossword and the sports pages do you know what I mean  and all sorts of shapes and smells and colours springing up even out of the ads nature it is as for them other Dubs saying there's no Sky subscription I wouldn't give a snap of my two fingers for all their sophistication why don't they go and create something I often asked him superior  or whatever they call themselves go and wash the patronising tones  off themselves first then they go howling for the Marks and Spencers ready meals and the cheap Sauvignon  and the Man Utd team dying and why why because they're afraid of following a losing team and not being able to go in on a Monday morning and say "we won" oh yes I know them well who was the first person in the celebrity universe before there was anybody that made it big in Dublin all who  that they don't know neither do I so there you are they might as well try to stop the Sun from being printed tomorrow the Sun is a great sports newspaper bud and great for the celebrities  he said the day we were lying among the discarded chip wrappers on Howth head in the grey Man Utd away jersey  and his matching Man Utd tracksuit bottoms the day I got him to talk to me yes first I gave him the bit of coddle out of my mouth and it was leapyear like now yes 16 years ago my God after that long watery kiss I near lost my breath yes he said was a flower of the Northside shopping centre interflora yes so we are flowers all jaysus wha  Manchester United yes that was one true thing he said in his life and the Sun is  a man's paper  yes that was why I liked him because I saw he understood or felt what a 4-4-2 formation is and I knew I could always get round him and I gave him all the pleasure I could leading him on till he asked me to say did I like Liverpool and I wouldn't answer first only looked out over the sea and the sky I was thinking of so many things he didn't know of like batter burgers  and hen parties in Blackpool and aspirational stuff like Amanda Brunker or Glenda Gilsenan , individuality  available in chainstores nationwide ,  my sister with her flat in Kinnegad and the Dubs playing into the hill all birds fly and I say and washing up dishes to pay the mortgage they called it on the negative equity and the Tv3 celebrities in the front  of  the Mansion House with the cheap necklaces around their pasty necks poor women half naked and the Spanish girls over for the summer laughing at their fake tan and their blonde highlights and the accents and the car auctions in the morning on the M50 express your individuality with a black car and the rugby goys and the accountants in the Next suits and the estate agents and the devil knows who else from all the ends of the south side, so superior and Duke street and the smell of discarded McDonald's and the twitterers  all clicking outside in the smoking zones next to the emergency exits  , they are such fascinating people was what he said  and the poor Eastern European cleaners working  half asleep and the vague fellows in the Irish times Op-ed columns and the wasters in the banks asleep in the shade of the interest rate steps and the big wheels of the carts of the bullshit on the radio and the old castle thousands of years saying yes to the Queen hard to drop that reverence  and those handsome new Brown Thomas outfits  all in white and Denis O'Brien lickspittles like kings asking you to sit down and STFU  and a lettuce leaf for the lunchtime BLT and the whineshops on taxi driver radio late at night in from the airport and the fish and chips and the holidays in the Canaries with BBC and Roast Beef none of that spanish shite and wearing tracksuits or suits depending on social status O that awful Northsider accent and the sea and the smell of it at Ringsend jaysus and the traffic congestion in the morning and thinking that is superior to life down the country with the culchies  and the fig rolls in the fridge along with the cheap apple tarts yes and all the smug  little streets and white and grey and white houses and they all look the same  and the children go the summercamp and they all look the same and the dreams I used to have as a girl of living in a boxy house beside my mother's yes when I put the rose in my hair like the TV3 girls used or shall I wear a red from TK Maxx yes and how he attempted to kiss me under the North Wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my flowerpot  and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all Jo Malone perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and I said would you ever Fook off, Jaysus .

Jaysus Seafoid, you're veering close to Syferus territory there.

Bus racist.

[orangeman]

Seafoid must be one of them full time Dub men ?. That took a bit of time and effort.

[Hardy]

Great stuff, Sidney and seafoid.

Anyone up for doing a Tyrone opus in the style of Flann O'Brien?

[ONeill]

HANGOVER

The Plain People Of Tyrone: The Grapes of Wrath he says. Isn't the Wrath of Grapes worse?
Me: It is.
The Plain People Of Tyrone: I'm saying the Wrath of Grapes is sore on you. On your head.
Me: It is.
The Plain People Of Tyrone: People say, The Grapes of Wrath cannot compare to the Wrath of Grapes.
Me: They can't, no.
The Plain People Of Tyrone: I wouldn't want the Wrath of Grapes.
Me: No.

[muppet]

HANGOVER

The Plain People Of Tyrone: The Grapes of Wrath he says. Isn't the Wrath of Grapes worse?
Me: It is.
The Plain People Of Tyrone: I'm saying the Wrath of Grapes is sore on you. On your head.
Me: It is.
The Plain People Of Tyrone: People say, The Grapes of Wrath cannot compare to the Wrath of Grapes.
Me: They can't, no.
The Plain People Of Tyrone: I wouldn't want the Wrath of Grapes.
Me: No.

All together: Uh ah up the Wrath, say uh ah up the Wrath.

[orangeman]

Mayo win another final.

And beat Tyrone in the process.

http://www.irishtimes.com/news/ireland/irish-news/president-watches-on-as-mayo-break-gaa-duck-in-pretoria-1.2002812