The Field (Dublin, Part Two)

I woke up on Thursday giddy with anticipation. Thursday was the day I was going to Croke Park. I hadn't been to Croker since 1996 when I last attended a hurling match. Since then, Croke Park had undergone a major renovation to become the third largest sporting pitch in Europe. No small feat when you consider that only amateur sports are played at Croker.*

But first, I took a trip to the Garden of Remembrance. The Garden was opened in 1966 to the memory of those who gave their lives for Irish freedom. A sunken garden in the middle contains a water feature in the shape of a cross while at the far end, a statue depicts the fallen turning into swans (a reference to the Irish folklore Children of Lir).

Once you walk down the steps, the sounds around you disappear and it becomes very quiet. I walked along the water feature staring at the mosaic work within the feature. Thanks to google, I now know that the mosaic shows the Celtic tradition of breaking and throwing your weapons into a river at the end of a battle. (How did we ever learn things before the internet? Oh, right. Encyclopedias!)

Overall the Garden was lovely and I was happy that I made an effort to check it out. It's only a block beyond Upper O'Connell St and with four rows of benches at one end as well as along the water feature, it would make a wonderful place to stop for lunch away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

After a serious morning, I got giddy as I headed off to Croke Park. CROKER! CROKER! CROKER! I got so giddy, in fact, that I missed a street sign and ended up walking an extra 15 minutes to the park. I didn't care. CROKER! CROKER! CROKER!

What I failed to capture on camera was that after this picture, I fell

to my knees and started screaming "I'm not worthy!"

My dad brought three hurleys with him when he emigrated from Ireland. While the family used them to flick the fuses on the fuse box which was located by the ceiling, my dad also took us down to the lower field and showed us how to use the hurley to pick up the sliotar (that's the ball). I enjoyed hurling but it wasn't until my Uncle Frank took me to a game at Croke Park that I fell in love with hurling. I've seen three games live, all at Croke Park, and I loved each of them.

I've linked to this video before, but I think now is a good time to post it again because HURLING! CROKER! HURLING! CROKER! HURLING! CROKER!

(There's also a good three part longer introduction to the sport: Part One, Part Two, Part Three.)

I started with a trip through the GAA museum. The lower floor deals with how hurling and Gaelic football play into both the Irish identity and to the struggle for independence. For the Canadians reading this, the Irish view the games as an extension of their culture much the same way we view hockey. The second floor deals with players and members of note in the hurling/Gaelic football/GAA organisation as well as an area where you get to test your hurling and football skills. Sadly, as much as I wanted to try out out hard I could hit a sliotar, I had a guided tour of the stadium I had to attend.

Sigh, just another reason to go back ;)

We began our tour with a short video about the All-Ireland Finals in September. It may have caused me a few tears of pride... and a slight regret that I voluntarily chose to come to Ireland after the season was over. C'est la vie! Next time ;)

Our guide--a kind, knowledgeable lady from Kildare--started by taking us into the players lounge. Below is the main chandelier. Made from Waterford Crystal and containing 32 footballs and over a hundred sliotars ("because it just looked a little too bare with only 32 sliotars"), the colour of the lights can be changed to a combination of the colours of any of the 32 counties. After a game the colours are always the colours of the winning team.

From the players lounge, we moved to the locker rooms. As the All-Irelands are over, the four winning teams--hurling, camogie (women's hurling), men's football, and women's football--were hung on the wall while the remaining 28 counties were hung around the room roughly grouped together by their province.

For those who care, the four jerseys are (l-r):

Cork (Women's Football) (BOO! They beat Monaghan)

 Dublin (Men's Football)

Wexford (Camogie)

Kilkenny (Hurling)

But there was only one jersey I cared about seeing:

I don't care if Monaghan is crap, they'll always be my first county.

No seriously, the men have never made the finals for hurling or football as far as I know.

We're crap... but I love them.

We moved onto the warm up area. At this point, the sound system was put on to sound like a cheering crowd. The chanting, the drumming, the clapping: it was an actual recording of the crowd at a previous game and you could tell. To the sound of the crowds delight, we moved from the warm up area, down the hallway and walked out onto the grounds of Croker.

I would like to say that I totally played this cool, but I was so giddy I skipped a couple of times.

I'M WALKING OUT ONTO THE FIELD AT CROKE PARK!!

Join me in my chant: CROKER! CROKER! CROKER!

In Gaelic sports, you get 1 point for going above the crossbar and 3 for going under.

That's why you see scores such as 2-7 to 1-11. The '2' means 2 goals (same as the 1) and the

'7' is 7 points above the bar (same as the 11). The totals of these two fake teams would be 13 to 14.

Sam or Liam sit on a platform behind the flowers.

This is the view the president of Ireland gets for the All-Ireland Championships, the lucky sod!

Also, the field is mowed by two guys using push mowers!!

From the field we headed up into the stands where people of note get to sit, checked out a company box, and took in the vertigo inducing view from the press boxes, all while hearing about the history of the GAA, Croke Park, the games themselves and the new stands.

When the tour was done, I really wanted to go again. There was just so much to see and so many stories to hear, I could have done it twice more: once just to take notes and once just to take pictures... although, I would have liked that last tour to have been just me and the guide ;-)

Outside the entrance to the museum is a wall showing all the GAA approved teams in Ireland and beyond. Pretty much anywhere you find Irish immigrants, you'll find a GAA satellite organisation. As you can see from this picture, we even have a few in Canada. The season runs from June-ish to August so if you're in an area that has these sports, I suggest you check out a game next summer.
*While the Lansdowne Stadium (now Aviva Stadium) was under reconstruction, the GAA voted to allow rugby and soccer matches to be held at Croke Park. It was the first time in 120 years that non-amateur sports were played there.

Question: Do you have a sports-mecca that you have visited or someday hope to visit? (Please assure me I'm not alone in my love of a sports facility!)

Heros and Ass-Hats: The 2011 Vancouver Riots

Can I just start by saying how much it pains me that I have to specify a year when talking about Vancouver riots now?

My Vancouver story has nothing unique, no fresh perspective on it, that needs to be added. I have no first hand story of being downtown because when it became apparent the Canucks were going to lose, we stayed on the other side of the bridge (I did, however, hug a perfect stranger on my walk home. He was about 21 or 22 and was sitting on the grass outside an apartment building crying, wiping his face with the sleeve of his Canucks jersey. I just felt like he could use a hug.) but given the amount I have mentioned the playoffs leading up to this, I did want to take a moment to acknowledge what happened.

Dear Vancouver Canucks: Thank you for an amazing season. Save the last 50 minutes, I wouldn't change a thing (well, maybe a certain eye injury and a certain spine injury, but you know what I mean). Being allowed to come along for the ride as a fan was an incredible experience and I love you all the more for it. You have been fantastic to watch and have achieved amazing things. I look forward to seeing what next season brings. See you in October!

PS. In a strange way, I have to thank you for losing. I would have been downtown with a 2.5 year old and her mom if you had won. Reports and interviews with some of the people stupid enough to still be down there at 10:00pm made me realise that this probably still would have happened if you had won. So, thank you? For keeping my personal safety in mind? What a kind thing to do. I didn't even know you knew me.

PPS. I have waited 30 years for the Stanley Cup to come to Vancouver, I can wait another 30 if I have to. (But please don't confuse my ability to wait with a desire to wait.)

Dear Boston Bruins: Congratulations on your win. You deserved it. Especially Thomas. Someone give that man a big fat bonus. Like, big enough that he'll want to retire and live out the rest of his life far, far away from the hockey rink. I understand Atlanta is beautiful.

Dear Vancouver Police Deptartment: I saw your tweets about people's kind tweets and that today (Thursday) people had been bringing baked goods, snacks and 'thank you's' to your headquarters. That's because you deserved them. You had a no-win situtation on your hands and I think you did an amazing job. Thank you.

Dear Vancouver Police Department Horses: Neigh, neeee-igh, neigh, brrrrrrrrrrffffff, sugar cube whinneeeeeeeeey. Neigh.

Dear CTV and specifically the field reporters/camerapersons: You kept us informed but I never felt like you sensationalized it. That is a difficult line to walk in a situtation like this. Also, thank you for all the wonderful hours of video evidence of people partaking in illegal activity.

Dear Volunteers who cleaned up Vancouver today: I wish I had had time to join you, but I didn't. You came out in droves and you were awesome! Thank you for cleaning up someone else's mess. Thank you for restoring my faith in humanity.

Ass-Hat, Douche-Canoes, Rioters (or the people who just stood there laughing and taking pictures than claimed "but I didn't do anything" because that totally means you're not guilty of being a douche-canoe): There are no words to describe how angry you made me and how saddened I was by your actions. There were people who came down that night looking to start a riot (one does not normally bring rocks in a backpack to an outdoor family event unless one is going to build an inukshuk to show the children) but they did not do it alone. There were legitimate Canuck fans in that mob. You are a disgrace to the team you support, to the city that so graciously hosted outdoor events for all the games, to the other fans who didn't need to burn things to feel better, to the province you all hail from (as I'm sure most of you were not from Vancouver-proper), and to the country that gave us the awesome sport of hockey.

I saw the people being interviewed saying "I'm not taking part, I just can't get out of downtown". I also saw the people today who all said there were able to get out of downtown within an hour so when you're telling the camera crew at 10:00pm you couldn't get out of downtown, you're full of it. Yes, busses and taxis weren't coming downtown. Yes, apparently there were delays on the Skytrain. But you know what? You have these things at the end of your legs called 'feet'. Feet are amazing things. If you lift up your right leg and move it forward, your right foot will be in a different location. Do the same with your left leg and foot. If you keep alternating, you start doing an activity that's called 'walking'. Amazingly, your body has been doing this very actitivity since you were about 18 months old. Sure, public or private transit might not have been making it into town, but you could easily have walked over one of the bridges (they were only closed going into town) to where public transit was still running.

There are riots occuring all over the world because people are being denied basic human rights and you riot because of a hockey game. Never mind jail, I'd like to round all of you up and send you to Burma, Iran, Libya, or any other oppressed nation for a year. Try to riot there and see how far you get before the police just open fire. I'd give you three minutes tops. By the way, they won't be firing tear gas and rubber bullets.

"Life is Either a Daring Adventure or Nothing" ~Helen Keller

At about 10:00am yesterday morning, knowing that I wasn't scheduled to work in the office today or tomorrow, I decided to take a last minute whirlwind trip to Vancouver for tonight's game seven.

I'm currently sitting on the ferry between Swartz Bay and Tsawwassen with 5 million other Canucks fans* on our way to a huge party in downtown Vancouver (assuming Vancouver wins. If Boston wins... egads, I'll be booting it out of downtown as quickly as the SkyTrain can carry me).

Technically, I won't be in downtown Vancouver. I'll be across the bridge in Kitsilano (hanging out with THR and Shannon), but it's closer than Victoria and unless you're from Vancouver/the West Coast, it's still Vancouver.

Also, I'm camera-less so I bought a crappy disposable which needs to be sent to a 'photo shop' to be 'developed' so pictures of my daring adventure will not be instantaneous to the blog (and will probably be pretty sketch once they are up).

This is also a preemptive apology for all the Boston slander I may or may not tweet about and/or post on certain Boston-based bloggers' sites (who have done nothing to deserve the slander themselves, but a few beers in and anyone in Boston is fair game.)

LET'S GO CANUCKS!!!!

*I may be exaggerating. Maybe. Just a little.

It Was a Weekend Fling But I'd Never Forget It...

I spent this past weekend in Vancouver visiting my dear friend, Carolyn, who had the misfortune of moving there roughly six painfully long weeks ago. Carolyn is not only a fantastic friend but she was my running buddy so it was a real Boo-urns moment for me. Yay for Carolyn for going after what she wants in life and all that, but if it's okay I'm just going to sit in the corner and be a little bitter about it. Originally my plan had been to surprise Carolyn by just showing up on her doorstep on Friday night (with a little help from the Boy, of course, because I didn't even know how to get to their place) but then she started saying things like 'come to Victoria' and 'visit' so I quashed that idea the only way I knew how: blowing the first surprise of the weekend.

I would have posted my own pictures but when I got home, I realised that the only pictures I took

were of wine bottles because they talked about Sheila having a few roos loose in the top paddock. Classy!

I still managed to surprise her with a little trip to the spa to get our mani-pedi's on because if anyone deserves a little spa time, it's her. It was great to be waited on by four women (even if one of them did nick my big toe and drew a little blood) but it was even better doing it while watching Sex and the City 2. Cheesy, girly good times! Other than a little stroll that same afternoon, we spent much of our time just hanging out at her apartment which is really want I wanted: spending time with an awesome friend. She lives sinfully close to Max's so we were never without good food to go with our good alcohol!

This was also the weekend where I met a bunch of strangers. Okay, it wasn't a bunch, it was two: Stacey and Shannon. Are they still strangers if you know them through the Internet and they're not part of Nigeria's royal family*? We had plans to meet at the flower stand at Granville Island Market. I arrived a tad early after lunch with another Vancouver friend so I wandered aimlessly around the market trying to eat up some time. In wandering, I realised that such a busy time at such a sizable location when they don't really know what I look like and vice versa might not have been the best idea. Oh well. I wandered back to the flower stand and hoped for the best. Not only did we find each other, but we had a really pleasant afternoon. The girl's were lovely to chat with as Stacey ate her cinnamon bun (Your secret's out, Stacey. Sorry.) and I drank my coffee. The conversation flowed, I never once looked at my phone to see my twitter updates (although I did look once to check the time), and I would gladly hang out with them again. If all blogger meet ups are this awesome, sign me up for more! Especially if they're part of the Nigerian Royal Family!

I was a little surprised how many photos of accidents appeared when I googled 'BC Ferries' but

then I thought of all the accidents I remember times by the number I probably don't...

I realise that I'm very trusting of a corporation which has crashed more times than Super Dave Osborne.

Of course, all good things must come to an end so I woke up Monday morning, packed my bag, figured out my schedule and then headed off for one last coffee with Carolyn in a downpour of epic proportions. I would just like to take this moment to give a shout out to the awesomeness that is Gore-Tex. My jacket is four years old and it has kept me dry in Tanzania's rainy season and in Victoria/Vancouver's mini-monsoon season. Worth. Every. Penny. The ferry ride was exciting as it was the first time I had ever used the wi-fi. I was thinking I would write a quick blog just say 'dudes, posting from the ferry!' but by the time I made it through the 100+ blog updates in my reader, I had 10 minutes before we docked. Egads, that was a lot of reading.

It was fun, Vancouver, if over a little too quickly. Here's hoping we get to do it again real soon.

*My favourite scam email was 'someone in Benin with a last name that is the same as yours has died leaving no relatives and we need someone to claim the money'. Honey, there's very few people in Ireland with the same last name as mine (my own family has two different spellings, true story!), never mind a small West African nation.