Congratulations JoePa

I'm a die-hard Notre Dame fan and I should be upset tonight. The Fighting Irish lost to the joke that is Syracuse but I can't help being happy for Joe Paterno and the Penn State Nittany Lions.

Paterno is 82 years old and in need of a hip replacement. Still, one of the most likeable men in College Football has pressed on as Penn State's head coach. Today, in one of the greatest feel good stories of the year (though not as much as the dude in the video linked in my last post) he saw his charges play a great game and hammer Michigan State to secure their first place in the Rose Bowl since 1995.

Congratulations JoePa. After all these years, you're still one of the best.

The Sunday Column - The other side

Following Sinead's experience as going to the Kerry vs Monaghan qualifier a few weeks ago I found myself in the Canal End, or Davin Stand as they now call it, for Sunday's Cork vs Kerry semi-final clash.

A bit of background is required first. I'm a devoted Dubs fan that usually goes to every game the boys in blue play in a championship season. My Dad used to be club secretary of the biggest club in the country so I was brought up with the mentality that the three most important things in my life were (1)Crokes (2) The Dubs and (3) Tipp hurlers, in that order. Dad would have preferred I switched 2 and 3 around but that just ain't ever happening.

The powers that be in the Irish American Football League managed to schedule games for the DCU Saints, as in the the team I play for, that clashed with every game Dublin played up to and including the Leinster final. No worries, sure I'll make the quarter final. Then the GAA went along and moved the date of that game to clash with a trip to Galway I was already committed to. No problem I thought, sure Tyrone are muck. Oh dear, that didn't work out well at all.

So here we were late in the championship season and I hadn't been to Croker for a non-rugby match in 2008. This just wouldn't do so I opted to go and watch Cork & Kerry play in front of a less than half full Croker in the All-Ireland semi. Now I could write a full post about why this game should have been played in Thurles but I'll spare ye for now.

My company for the day were Kate, from Bantry in Cork via California but whose Dad is from the Kingdom so therefore she was up for Kerry, her brother William who has the same characteristics, his girlfriend Ríon (sp? and no it's not Ríona) who said she was 'half and half', and the aforementioned patriarch of this grouping Mr Tom Fitzgerald.

On the way down Clonliffe Road a photographer and journalist from the Irish Mirror stopped me and Kate for a photo. He then moved me out of shot as I was not a pretty blonde in a Kerry jersey. Kate did some America's Next Top Model poses and then we confused matters by explaining her whole geographic origins.

It was at this time that I also explained to the journo where my allegiances would lie that day. Cork and Kerry are two counties I generally root against so in the past this would be a tough one to ponder but over the years I've had to face similar questions so many times that my answer was simple. It had to be Cork that got my backing on this day because, as I told the intrepid reporter "I'd rather cheer for Meath than Kerry."

It's like cheering for the New York Yankees or Man United. You just don't do it. It's wrong, it's fundamentally against everything at the centre of my being. So in we went, 3 and half Kerry fans with 1 and a half Cork fans.

Much like Sinead, Kate doesn't have a great grasp on the game of Football. This doesn't bother her in the slightest and that's fine. Unfortunately for her she was seated beside a sports nut that's managed one Soccer team and been a selector on two Hurling teams, which led to plenty of tactical shouting and explanations, as well as reffing in three sports including Football, which led to lots of shouting and explanations on the fouls. None of which she wanted to hear.

Sorry about that. I actually do it everywhere bar UCD soccer games, even my flatmate's tag rugby team have been subjected to my rants from the sideline. Worryingly that team is so bad that my advice improved matters and trust me that isn't a good sign, but I digress.

Shockingly there were more Kerry than Cork fans in the stadium. A turnout of 35k was still appalling for this level but Kerry fans never go to games other than finals. Obviously they must have more fans living in Dublin, it's the only possible explanation.

The first half was lively enough but after the break Kerry took control. With just one score in the first 33 minutes of the second period Cork looked down and out. It appeared as though once again I would leave Croker cursing a victory for the Kingdom. Suddenly however Cork were just a goal behind.

Then the Rebels were awarded a penalty. This led to probably my most ill-informed piece of tactical analysis of the day. As I was sitting at the far end of the stadium I thought the foul was committed outside large rectangle. So I say to Kate "That's what I'm talking about. You foul him before he gets into the box," in a blood-spitting tone. "You do whatever it takes to win, it's about the team. You sacrifice yourself, even if it means getting sent off and missing an All-Ireland final. If that's what it takes, you do it."

Then of course I realised that everything I just said was irrelevant as the foul was inside the box. There was still a chance to redeem myself of course. The penalty itself. Coolly I reassured the Kerry fans around me that all would be fine. "They [players] never get these. He'll miss. He's going to choke, they always do with these last-minute penalties."

It's in the net, Cork are level. I've been proven wrong again but no matter, Kerry are no longer winning. A late effort at a point from the Kingdom hits the post and goes wide. Finally I leave Croke Park having seen Kerry fail to vanquish a foe. It's not a defeat but it's a start.

Postscript
We headed back to Kate's where we lounged for a while before enjoying some nice Mexican food in a place on George's St (the name escapes me). After that we headed on to Sibín, formerly Crush, for a drink and some free boxty (nice!).

I capped off the night by heading home and watching the final of Gladiators. Yes I taped it and yes I'm glad I did. The two final eliminators rocked.

The Sunday Column - Back on the road

Around 5pm on Sunday the American Football season ended for the DCU Saints. For me this was the end of one regimen and the beginning of another. At around 7.30 this morning it was go time. The pads were put away for the summer and out came the runners, shorts and t-shirt.

As with any programme I’ve got to begin lightly but there is the added pressure that as I’m behind I’ll need to ramp it up a bit to be ready for the half-marathon in September. This morning was only a half hour jog around Ranelagh and into Rathmines. Tomorrow will likely be similar but soon, very soon it’ll be longer. It’ll be harder and it’ll be faster.

It will also likely not feature any knocks to my noggin, at least none that are deliberate. I gave a few of the lads a bit of a scare yesterday when I spoke rather butchly about the dents in my forehead following the Cork game on Sunday and how they likely explained the killer headache I had. They dents were a result of the force of impact and not due to the helmet’s tightness, I knew it was too loose to be anything other than hits. I’m sure the other guy looks worse though.

Having thought nothing of it myself (I’m well used to getting knocks to the head at this stage, it comes with the territory) I had gone about my day normally, after all I had work to do.

After a bit of coaxing I eventually agreed to go to see my GP about it to make sure I hadn’t got a concussion or anything else. My regular doc wasn’t in so I saw the other one in the clinic who isn’t used to my regular visits about my litany of injuries. As a result she was taken aback about my unconcerned attitude towards the aforementioned dents. It turned out that I was grand and hadn’t suffered any damage.

The visit did at least give me the opportunity to share war stories with Lucy, my GP’s receptionist, about various knocks we’d both received on the playing field. She used to play hockey and had taken some nasty hits from a hockey ball a few times, and trust me those things are like rocks.

Neither of us however could claim an injury as unfortunately amusing as Anna who used to be in Commerce International with me. She got hit in the face with a hockey ball shortly before our exams in second year. The result was extensive bruising that covered around both eyes and her nose. Those of us who didn’t know she played hockey immediately thought she had been beaten up and she had to repeatedly tell people that she was not the victim of an attack.

Well that was all a bit of a tangent. Anyway as I was saying the real training is underway. I’ll keep you all informed of the early progress over the coming weeks.

The Sunday Column – The drawbacks of success

This coming Sunday I play what will be the most important game I’ve played since I took up American Football three years ago. It’s also the cause of a substantial obstacle to my marathon preparations.

While I am delighted to be on a team in the playoffs I have noticed the difference in my fitness over the past few weeks. I’m in optimum condition for football but that is not necessarily the best shape for running.

Last Saturday should have been the first preparatory race for the New York City Marathon, the Adidas 5-miler in the Phoenix Park. Due to the extension to the football season I had to give this a miss as I have with much of my running based training. I’ve bulked back up slightly, which is necessary for the upcoming game or games, but the challenge will be to drop this again after the season ends. There is an upside, strength-wise I’m doing fine and frankly don’t need to build up on the power front any more for the race. While crushing people generally isn’t an important part of marathon-running, this part of my preparations should still translate well on the stamina front when I start back running again. Still it will take my body a couple of weeks to adjust.

The knock on effect is that with a 10-miler ahead in August I’ll need to ramp up the early part of my resumption of training in order for this race to be of any real use.

Essentially the biggest drawback is that I have to shuffle matters around in order for the half marathon in the Phoenix Park in September to be at the point in preparations that I need it to be.

If I had the choice would I change any of this to be able to prepare earlier? Not a chance in hell. New York can wait; I have business in Cork to attend to first. The Admirals are my only priority for now.

The Sunday Column - A wonderful delay

Playoffs!

The scoreline says it all: Belfast Bulls 0 DCU Saints 6

On Sunday in Belfast the DCU Saints beat the Belfast Bulls by scoring the sole touchdown of the game early in the final quarter. Having played at various positions across the offensive line over the past three seasons this was what it’s all about. The victory put the Saints in the playoffs for the first time ever. After three years of toiling, struggling to prove ourselves, we have made it to the knockout stages.

It’s undoubtedly the best reason possible to delay my return to marathon training.

I haven’t done active running training since April as I was focussed solely on the American Football season. I had found earlier in the year that the difference in preparation for the two sports was substantially different to a point where my body essentially forced me to choose for the short term.

The choice was easy, Football is what got me back in some kind of shape a couple of years back (yes I used to be in much worse shape than this). I’ll write in more detail about the difference it has made to my life after the season is over but for now I’ll focus on one joyous moment.

We were underdogs going up there and truth be told I didn’t know what to think going into it. A draw would be enough to go through, but ties are rare in Football. The first quarter ended scoreless and it didn’t enter our thoughts. Then halftime approached and there were still no points on the board. With the wind forcing both sides to focus on their running game the clock was running virtually without stopping, and a fast clock was our friend. Belfast had to score, all we had to do was stop them.

The third quarter ends and it’s still scoreless. This is the time to strike. With good field position we begin to drive.

The hits go in. The line’s objective is to force the men before them out of the way. The goal for the receivers and tight ends is to get open. The running backs sole aim is to go forward not back, while the quarterback has to manage these tasks.

Eklof to Collins, touchdown. Eight minutes remain.

Belfast take to the field. The Saints D succeed in forcing the Bulls to eat up a lot of time without making significant gains. With less than three minutes remaining the offence return. We get the hits in. Now is our time. We believe.

But on this occasion we come up short. A fumble turns the ball over and with a minute to go it’s all on the D to seal the deal. A converted score from Belfast would give the hosts victory and a place in the playoffs. Not this day, no this was the day DCU stood firm and held out. This was the day the painful memories of the past were put to rest.

A wave of relief, elation, confidence and belief came over the team. The season could end as soon as a fortnight from now or it could yet have another month. Whatever the case I’ll gladly keep off the roads until that day comes. It’s well worth it.

The Sunday column - Dual Masters

I introduce a young gentleman from Tallaght to the concept of pain

In journalism it's relatively easy to fiddle with an article from the Irish Times so that it is suitable for the Irish Independent. Editing that same article for the Sun or Star however is another matter entirely. The differences in styles mean the odds are a writer would be better off starting again from scratch rather than trying to adjust the existing piece.

The same is true with training. Preparing for orienteering, my training partner John’s sport of choice, is not a million miles removed from getting ready for a road race. American Football on the other hand is a whole different kettle of fish.

Today I played for the DCU Saints beat the Dublin Rhinos 32-6 at Castleknock College. Go us. It was a good old fashioned physical affair, as linemen like myself attempted to knock seven shades of…this is a family column…out of each other.

Like marathon running the gridiron is physically demanding but in a rather different way.

There’s the obvious differences, such as road racing general not involving men wearing helmets and pads and then getting rather violent, but then there’s other stuff that wouldn’t immediately jump out at the casual observer.

The type of physical exertion, both in training and game-play, couldn’t be less similar to marathon preparations. The gridiron demands a player can go for short, rapid-fire burst over and over again for around three hours.

You go, you stop, you go again and you keep on doing this until either you or your foe yields. That is it. Instead of the continuous steady pace a runner seeks to achieve, an American Footballer must be able to constantly shift gears and go from nought to sixty in an instant.

An offensive lineman like myself hits three ways: hard, fast and repeatedly. Despite the differences there are some benefits in playing this sport whilst getting ready for a big race.

The stamina I have developed from playing American Football over the past three years has certainly offset some of the problems associated with my general lack of fitness.

In the last two marathons that drive, that ability to grind it out, has helped me get to the finish line in one piece. This year it should hopefully keep me in enough condition to train hard once the season formally ends.

Once that comes around it’s off with the pads and on with the runners. A different kind of challenge awaits.