An Mhí vs Tír Eoghain, Pairc Tailteann Navan 13/03/2016 14:00

[Fear ón Srath Bán]

Anything other than an away win here would be a massive shock, seriously! 

[BennyHarp]

Meath should never be taken lightly, we have learned that to our cost before. But whenever an opportunity presents itself to hammer them into the ground, then it should always be taken with both hands!! 😀

[Fear ón Srath Bán]

Meath should never be taken lightly, we have learned that to our cost before. But whenever an opportunity presents itself to hammer them into the ground, then it should always be taken with both hands!! 😀

Hands, fists, boots,  whatever's on offer, though let us never forget how the Meathies kicked the winning of those All-Irelands into us, verily!

[seafoid]

Seal da raibheas im maighdean sheimh
Is anois im bhaintreach caite ar stre

Go ndeana Dia trócaire ar an ríocht.

[Fear ón Srath Bán]

Go ndeana Dia trócaire ar an ríocht.

Muise a chara, Muise...

[seafoid]

Go ndeana Dia trócaire ar an ríocht.

Muise a chara, Muise...

Gùímís le cheile in ainm Mick Lyons..

[Jinxy]

Are Tyrone any good this year?

[BennyHarp]

Are Tyrone any good this year?

McKenna Cup winners v O'Byrne Cup winners. It's a champions of champions match up, I can't see anything other than a high quality encounter!

[Jinxy]

There can be only one...

[Fear ón Srath Bán]

Don't I just love this sickening arrogance of ours, truly

[trileacman]

i was just thinking this is not the Meath team I'd be sending up to Omagh. In that vein...

The Expendables 4 – The Gang's Back Together....

Meath CLG offices. Shadows lurk outside and in, the pitch black of a dark night of the soul. The only light comes from a desk lamp in the office of the Chairman, moths flit in and out of the blaze of fluorescence , illuminating a rotary phone sitting on the rich, manly, mahogany surface. Outside, wails and lamentations can be heard, the wind sighs "Westmeeeeeaaaadddd".
A hand appears, lifts the old receiver, and a dials 999.
"Hello...Sean? It's time."

A week later, an armoured bus wends its way through the lanes and byways of South Tyrone. Inside the caged windows, an animated figure can be seen bouncing to every pothole on the road.

Sean Boylan speaks. "Well lads, isn't it great, isn't football great altogether, yeah great, positivity, good lads, now will we have a drop of the auld dandelion tea, now lads, get us up for this, yeah? Good lads."

His enthusiasm is infectious. The bus is crowded with gnarled figures, scarred and ugly beyond belief. It looks like a Lord of the Rings extras reunion.

"C'mon now Liam, you have the first drop."

Liam Harnan looks up, angered that he has to stop worrying the raw leg of mutton he has between his jaws. He wipes the juices from his mouth and drinks deep. "AAAGHHH" – the roar is deep and primal, he doubles up as steam billows from his ears, a hump begins to bubble up on his back, horns protrude from his forehead – amazingly though, the effect is actually a bit more pleasant than what was there before.

"It's an improvement anyway" says Graham Geraghty, slugging out of the bottle, spilling some on his Michael Thomas autographed Arsenal jersey. "I coulda played in a World Cup, but I was too fit for the lads in Highbury, made them look bad. Trevor, get stuck in to that."

He throws Giles the bottle, but the centre forward uncharacteristically drops it. "You'd better get yourself together" Geraghty warns. Trevor nods, reaches under the seat and produces a pair of scissors. Slowly, solemnly he cuts his M+S geansai sleeves above the shoulders. A low hum of approval comes from the others.

Sean is bouncing now. "Colm, leave that and have a drink." Colm Coyle lays down the M60 machine gun he has been oiling and takes a gulp. "Tommy, your turn now." Tommy Dowd opens his mouth and a high pitched scream, like a tortured kettle emits. Everyone except Sean holds their ears. "Yes, Tommy we'll be there soon. Mick, have a sup there."

Mick Lyons says "............."

"Ah g'wan Mick, an auld drink before the game, it's all natural."

Mick Lyons says "............."

"Right, ok Mick. Anyway lads, this is going to be some challenge, today, yeah, some challenge, football, it's great isn't it? So let's let it in long to Colm, Brian and Bernard, Gerry break whatever ball you can in midfield, take the frees quick off the ground, let's rip out their eyes and piss on their brains, and whatever else we do, enjoy yourselves. Right?" He rubs his hands together genially.

Colm O'Rourke breaks off from wrapping a lagging jacket around his knee. "Ah Sean, what was the last part?"

"Just enjoy yourselves, lads."

"No, the bit before that..."

On the back seat of the bus, still and grave, immense and foreboding, like a statue on Easter Island, sits Mick Lyons.

Mick Lyons says "............."



In Omagh, Mickey Harte and Sean Cavanagh are taking a turn around the side of the pitch, discussing tactics.
"Well Sean, no need for any last ditch rugby tackles today?"

"Not at all Mickey, we'll burn them off in the final 20, sure they had nothing left against Westmeath.....Sheeeit!"

The armoured bus has just pulled into the car park. Sean Boylan bounces off, followed by the clanking, armoured hordes of Mordor. "Howya lads!" he waves genially.

Mickey Harte chews his gum grimly. "We're gonna need a bigger blanket."




"You're very welcome back to RTE-E's coverage of the All Ireland Qualifiers two thousand fifteen-een, with me-ee, Brian Carthy. Controversy here in Omagh today as a considerably changed Meath team, have tested the very limits of manliness and hardy football here today against a shellshocked Tyrone side.

Right from the start Meath tested the referees patience, as Liam Harnan, having just downed a pint of Ivomec F proceeded to feast on the innards of Peter Harte, and which surely deserved a black card at least. Graham Geraghty has been a constant thorn in the side of the Tyrone defence, at one stage wrapping a Fine Gael poster around Sean Cavanagh before punching him in the face and then scoring a remarkable point off his left. Trevor Giles' radar is on today, as he has been taking the kickouts, scoring three of them, whilst Colm O'Rourke, despite sustaining a concussion after being sandwiched by Joe McMahon and an ice cream van, was told by the selectors that he is Bernard Brogan and has scored two stylish points from play.

The only reason Tyrone are still in this is because Meath are a man down, though interestingly, it was not as a result of the referee. Colm Coyle failed to return to the pitch after half time. I'm told he is out in the car park, tampering with the brakes of the Tyrone bus. It's building up to a pulsating championship finale here in He-ealy Park, with me Brian Carthy..."




Up in the stands, some can take it no more. Brian Dooher leaps up and cries "I still have my boots Mickey!" and dashes down the steps, before tripping over a strategically placed Meath fan's boot. He is last seen being attended to by the St. John's ambulance, a bandage several times bigger than his head being applied.

Squeaky bum time. Mick Lyons grabs the ball and heads out from defence – the teams are all square and Sean Cavanagh is desperate to keep Meath in their half. It is time for cynicism. He launches himself at Mick Lyons....
And slides down his body, like a bug splattered on a windshield.

Mick Lyons says "............." and handpasses to PJ Gillic, who launches a bomb into the atmosphere – it hits a seagull before hurtling back into the square, bouncing back up...and over the bar.

On the way to the dressing room, Mick Lyons wipes the battered remnants of Sean Cavanagh from his legs. Sean Boylan is talking to Marty Morrisey – "Great game Marty, manly, sporting, football, it's great isn't it...."




One last stop on a long, winding road back to the Royal county. At a well-appointed, detached house in the country, Sean Boylan rings a doorbell.

Peter Canavan opens the door. "Ah howya, Sean, ye did well today lads, fair dues to ye. I wasn't able to make it myself."

"Ah yeah, great Peter, it was a great performance. Anyway, just wanted to let someone say hello to you. Martin, come up here Martin...."

Martin O'Connell looms into the the doorway. "Sorry about this Pete."

In Tyrone no one can hear you scream.

On the back of the bus, Mick Lyons sits.

And Mick Lyons says "............."

[trileacman]

Had to dig up that old piece of gold. Credit to easytiger95

[BennyHarp]

We should make this game more interesting and put both the McKenna Cup and O'Bryne Cups on the line as well as the 2 points. Winner takes all! That's how confident I am!

[Jinxy]

Sickening arrogance.

[seafoid]

It is weird thinking of the Ryles as a díol trua. I suppose it is the fault of the Dubs. Too many humiliations. And Banty. Plus the other lads.