A Kerrymans view of being on Hill 16 for a Dublin Match!!!

[DUBSFORSAM1]

By Billy Keane
Tuesday July 17 2007


My Superman's phone box was the Snug in The Palace and I emerged dressed in blue from head to toe. I was a Dub for a day.


My head was full of what a Dub should be. Me, Anto from Monto, approached the henna tattooist outside The Bank Of Ireland on College Green.

He assured me it would come off in a week. But what if I was to be stigmatised at Killarney Races as result? I baulked. But the good reporter always asks the hard questions.

And yes, Dublin women do wear blue knickers on match days. It's all on camera for The Road to Croker on Thursday at eight on RTE 1.

The camera draws all sorts.

I was cheered by a group of junkies sitting on those same Georgian steps the ascendancy often mounted in the days of the Raj.

We had the great good luck to run into a mother, a truly beautiful young woman on a terraced side street. She was tall, graceful and elegant and it dawned me there's not much difference between us and youse. She had a lovely blonde child in one hand and a packet of Mikado's in the other for HT tea.

We made out The Hill 16 Bar. There were hundreds of Dubs cordoned off behind bars. One Laois man remarked "it was the right place for 'em" .

I was getting a bit nervy now. What if I came across a band of gurriers out for a bit of Culchie bashing. Mata Hari was shot at dawn. My cover was blown by an Indo reader but I need not have worried.

I was joined by Dinky, after the small cars. Dinky told me he was a doctor. He was cutting down the beams in the attic of the Royal College of Surgeons.

A group of Carlow supporters walked by intheir distinctive red, green and yellow jerseys.

"Come on ye Rastafarians" shouted Huggy. The Dubs sang the new Carlow anthem "No Woman, No Crime".

I had 'em all singing The Barney Song. We all hugged Huggy.

Some fella taunted the passing Laois parade with a chant of "your sisters are your mothers".

But there was nothing really vicious in it. The Dubs just like winding people up. They're not against anyone, just up for Dublin. And the Laois boys laughed it off.

But it wasn't all Dublin in the Rare 'Oul Times.

A parking tout hassled my cameraman and minder Michael Foley. Some guy tried to grab the camera, unsuccessfully. We stopped off at the barriers on Jones Road to get our faces painted.

I was now Anto the Cherokee I fulfilled a lifetime ambition when I shouted out "Last few choc ices and ripe bananas" in fluent Dub. I was allowed to sell scarves by Linda and scrounged a fiver for a flag off a corporate boxer who made every euro a prisoner.

There were dogs and horses outside the Hill and police dressed for the worst, I started to sweat up a bit. It was the first time I stopped yapping all day. I had a vision of the Dublin jersey draped across my coffin before the high altar in St Mary's parish church in Listowel.

The Hill was as blue as a desert sky.

The noise was overwhelming. We were up at the top and not far to go before vertigo set in. I cheered my heart out for the Dubs. The canny cameraman Michael even suggested I might be suffering from Stockholm Syndrome but there's an old Bantu saying "never insult the crocodile's mother before you cross the river".

Laois scored a great goal and The Hill, as my hero Con Houlihan put it, "was as quiet as Knocknagoshel on a Good Friday". Then the Dubs goaled and we were knocked over by friendly fire in the ensuing madness. "Come on you boys in Blue" started up.

Ten thousand as one, except one. I just couldn't synchronise the choreography between the finger pointing and the clapping.

But I got away with it. The uniform transforms you. You dress as a Dub, therefore you are a Dub.

Even when I spoke in a Kerry accent most people didn't even pick up on it.

I checked the toilets at half time. Plenty of soap, hot water and towels but no coke.

There were a few dopeheads going a bit mad in the food area but nothing too bad, even though the First Aid man told me he was very busy over on the other side of the Hill.

This girl of about 15 was getting shifted by a lad of about 17. They were both doped up. She didn't know where she was. Anything could happen to her. It was very sad.

Later my cover was blown when I roared 'Up the Kingdom' after the second Brogan goal. The boys mam, Marie is a neighbour.

There was a little bit of tension but it soon passed after a chorus of "get the culchie off the hill."

Michael diverted attention when he put the camera ona young lad kissing a girl.

"I hope she's your moth," immediately quipped Pronto beside me. But I was never in any great danger. They were nearly all good lads. Ninety nine per cent. Stereotyping be damned.

And would I go back? Most certainly. Sorry . . . deffo.

- Billy Keane

[Kerry Mike]

We had this already today, get with the fecking program.

[Gnevin]

Is this one of the them letter people being held captive are made write? Surely he couldn't of enjoyed the hill!

[Kerry Mike]

 

[bingobus]

I was just about to type the same 

By the way Kerry Mike...still waiting for the "A Kerrymans view of being in Clones on a Ulster final day" post

[full back]

Is this one of the does letter people being held captive are made right surely he couldn't of enjoyed the hill!

You drinking today Gnevin?

[Fear ón Srath Bán]

By the way Kerry Mike...still waiting for the "A Kerrymans view of being in Clones on a Ulster final day" post

Indeed, had forgotten about that 

[Kerry Mike]

"A Kerrymans view of being in Clones on a Ulster final day"

Will be up tonight if I get a chance,, could be a long one...

[Gabriel_Hurl]

I was just about to type the same 

By the way Kerry Mike...still waiting for the "A Kerrymans view of being in Clones on a Ulster final day" post

I've already got the "exclusive scoop" 

[catchandkick]

A Con Houlihan rip-off merchant that Billy Keane. Why doesnt he come up with a style of his own?

[Kerry Mike]

I've already got the "exclusive scoop"

You would need a scoop for some of the shite that comes out of my keyboard...

As for Billy Keane, I enjoy his articles and I think his style has alot of his father John B's traits but Con Houlihan is still the King of the one liner.

[magickingdom]

i used to stand on hill 16 but then i got a job   

[Jinxy]

A Con Houlihan rip-off merchant that Billy Keane. Why doesnt he come up with a style of his own?

He does have a style of his own. It's called "Never use one word when a dozen will suffice."