Originally Posted by
Rory's Stories
All Ireland Final Day…
A great day to be Irish, you rock out of bed, possibly with a dodgy banging headache from a few ‘kill the nerves’ pints the night before. Its no such day for porridge or a healthy breakfast, it’s the slap up fry. You discuss match ups, the weather and the possible outcome, the jersey is washed and ironed, the good jeans are on, wallet, phone and you’re out the door. Few pre match pints in Quinns, the chat and banter is unreal. As you tip down Jones' Road with a spring in your step, you can hear the crowd cheer each score in the Minor match.
You head into croker and get that buzz when you see the pitch, the shiver runs down your back, wishing you could be out there. You roar like **** when the players walk past you during the parade, with their chests out and hopping off the ground. Then It’s time for the National Anthem, up you stand in your seat, hands behind the back and belt out every word proud as punch, the ball is thrown in and we’re off. Your heart is close to exploding for 70+ minutes, at the final whistle if your team is on the right side of the score board its mayhem, if not, it’s depression. Either way you are going for pints. Everyone spills out in all directions, mad for porter, you skull pints and go through the game in fine detail
“He was ****e, overrated…”
“Jaysus it was some score, and at that time of the game, serious balls”
“AH sure stop, hes and animal”
The night is approaching, you’ve had nothing but a half a cooked burger, destroyed in onions, since breakfast - so you sly into the chipper and put in some soakage. The craic about town is mighty, plenty of slagging, then the time has come “We’ll hit coppers”, you get out of the taxi in Harcourt street, the queue is a 100 yards long, but you still wait, as you stand there half cut you decide to ring your mate, whos at home in bed, looking for his gold card. After a long wait you’re finally in, the place in wedged, Saw Doctors blaring, one part of you feels like getting sick, the other wants another Jager bomb.
Its now 4.30am and you’ve had your fill… back to the chipper for more slagging, taxi home soon after and then into the cot. You wake up Monday morning, not knowing your arse from your elbow - Dying, but if SAM MAGUIRE is heading in the direction of your county you don’t give a ******, because the session is on again….
ROLL ON SUNDAY !!!!
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