Things I like about the GAA

[laceer]

Sandwiches and tae in the boot

[ardal]

Ahhh now. What type of sandwiches? Not and egg and onion man myself. Slice of ham and a lump of cheese.

[Rossfan]

What type of sandwiches?

Hang ones of course !!!

[ziggysego]

I must admit, I'm an egg and onion man myself. Also like a bit of spreadable cheese, with a few Tayto crisps thrown in for good measure.

[Tony Baloney]

I must admit, I'm an egg and onion man myself. Also like a bit of spreadable cheese, with a few Tayto crisps thrown in for good measure.

It's no wonder you smell like you do.

[laceer]

And it's not ham,it's hang sandwiches

[Jinxy]

Meeting up with the lads for a leisurely pint on a Sunday afternoon, strolling down Jones Road listening to the buskers, soaking up the atmosphere, exchanging greetings and pre-match analysis with people from home, "Will we do it d'ya think?", "Yep. Definitely. I've a good feeling about this one", the boundless optimism as you skip up the steps, the little tingle you get as you step out of the tunnel into the stand and that beautiful expanse of vivid green unfolds below you, finding your seat and exchanging nods with the various folk you know from the club, watching your lads charge out onto the field, "They look fit anyway", trying to decipher positional switches and late omissions, borrowing a programme from the opposition supporter beside you, cheerfully enquiring as to the well-being of their injured midfielder, wondering if they've any good young lads coming through, wishing him the best of luck today anyway, a hearty bellow at the throw-in, "Hon da Roy-al!", chuckling apologetically at the first soft free you get, "Where's this ref from anyway?", rolling your eyes when one of your lads is ticked for a late challenge, politely disagreeing with the opposition supporter when he suggests that should have been a yellow, rolling your eyes when one of your lads is booked for a late challenge, loudly disagreeing with the opposition supporter when he suggests that should have been a red, making it to half-time knowing we should be further ahead, "We need a good start to the second half", not getting a good start to the 2nd half, "That was never a f*ckin penalty!", hoping the lads keep the heads as we're still in this, red card, "Where the f*ck is this ref from anyway?", angrily asking the opposition supporter if he ever played the game after he says "That man should have gone in the first half", telling him his crowd have never won anything anyway after he reveals he played senior intercounty football, glowering at the lads when they tell you to calm down, sitting there with a big thick head watching the other crowd kick points from all angles to win pulling up with every ironic cheer like a pin inserted under your finger-nail, sensing the smug satisfaction oozing from every pore of the opposition supporter beside you, storming up the steps and out of the stadium at the final whistle, cursing under your breath the whole way up Jones Road, driving home in total silence, refusing to watch The Sunday Game.
Heaven.

[Hardy]

Great post Jinxy.

[Fear ón Srath Bán]

Great post Jinxy.

+ 1

[downredblack]

Meeting up with the lads for a leisurely pint on a Sunday afternoon, strolling down Jones Road listening to the buskers, soaking up the atmosphere, exchanging greetings and pre-match analysis with people from home, "Will we do it d'ya think?", "Yep. Definitely. I've a good feeling about this one", the boundless optimism as you skip up the steps, the little tingle you get as you step out of the tunnel into the stand and that beautiful expanse of vivid green unfolds below you, finding your seat and exchanging nods with the various folk you know from the club, watching your lads charge out onto the field, "They look fit anyway", trying to decipher positional switches and late omissions, borrowing a programme from the opposition supporter beside you, cheerfully enquiring as to the well-being of their injured midfielder, wondering if they've any good young lads coming through, wishing him the best of luck today anyway, a hearty bellow at the throw-in, "Hon da Roy-al!", chuckling apologetically at the first soft free you get, "Where's this ref from anyway?", rolling your eyes when one of your lads is ticked for a late challenge, politely disagreeing with the opposition supporter when he suggests that should have been a yellow, rolling your eyes when one of your lads is booked for a late challenge, loudly disagreeing with the opposition supporter when he suggests that should have been a red, making it to half-time knowing we should be further ahead, "We need a good start to the second half", not getting a good start to the 2nd half, "That was never a f*ckin penalty!", hoping the lads keep the heads as we're still in this, red card, "Where the f*ck is this ref from anyway?", angrily asking the opposition supporter if he ever played the game after he says "That man should have gone in the first half", telling him his crowd have never won anything anyway after he reveals he played senior intercounty football, glowering at the lads when they tell you to calm down, sitting there with a big thick head watching the other crowd kick points from all angles to win pulling up with every ironic cheer like a pin inserted under your finger-nail, sensing the smug satisfaction oozing from every pore of the opposition supporter beside you, storming up the steps and out of the stadium at the final whistle, cursing under your breath the whole way up Jones Road, driving home in total silence, refusing to watch The Sunday Game.Heaven.

Been there done that alright 

[Asal Mor]

[   Brilliant Jinxy

[ziggysego]

None of this transfer shite that goes on in soccer. Your greatest hero yesterday is a @#!/ tomorrow.

[Hardy]

Christ Almighty this shite with the soccer transfer stuff is gone to hell altogether. There's more hype and inane coverage of the buying and selling of players than of the games themselves. It's like that other junk sport "Formula One", where there's as much coverage of the practice as of the race itself. And when it comes to the race itself, the biggest excitement is when a fella pulls in to have his spare put on. It's all part of television's relentless quest to dumb down every sport it infests into Dancing On Ice.

Great stuff Jinxy - felt like I was there with you.

[theskull1]

+1 Hardy

[The Claw]

Meeting up with the lads for a leisurely pint on a Sunday afternoon, strolling down Jones Road listening to the buskers, soaking up the atmosphere, exchanging greetings and pre-match analysis with people from home, "Will we do it d'ya think?", "Yep. Definitely. I've a good feeling about this one", the boundless optimism as you skip up the steps, the little tingle you get as you step out of the tunnel into the stand and that beautiful expanse of vivid green unfolds below you, finding your seat and exchanging nods with the various folk you know from the club, watching your lads charge out onto the field, "They look fit anyway", trying to decipher positional switches and late omissions, borrowing a programme from the opposition supporter beside you, cheerfully enquiring as to the well-being of their injured midfielder, wondering if they've any good young lads coming through, wishing him the best of luck today anyway, a hearty bellow at the throw-in, "Hon da Roy-al!", chuckling apologetically at the first soft free you get, "Where's this ref from anyway?", rolling your eyes when one of your lads is ticked for a late challenge, politely disagreeing with the opposition supporter when he suggests that should have been a yellow, rolling your eyes when one of your lads is booked for a late challenge, loudly disagreeing with the opposition supporter when he suggests that should have been a red, making it to half-time knowing we should be further ahead, "We need a good start to the second half", not getting a good start to the 2nd half, "That was never a f*ckin penalty!", hoping the lads keep the heads as we're still in this, red card, "Where the f*ck is this ref from anyway?", angrily asking the opposition supporter if he ever played the game after he says "That man should have gone in the first half", telling him his crowd have never won anything anyway after he reveals he played senior intercounty football, glowering at the lads when they tell you to calm down, sitting there with a big thick head watching the other crowd kick points from all angles to win pulling up with every ironic cheer like a pin inserted under your finger-nail, sensing the smug satisfaction oozing from every pore of the opposition supporter beside you, storming up the steps and out of the stadium at the final whistle, cursing under your breath the whole way up Jones Road, driving home in total silence, refusing to watch The Sunday Game.
Heaven.

Great post. Definitely memories of the Kildare loss this year reading that.