Aido goes to the Hill - Part I
The ankle was still the size of a marble after my catastrophic slight sprain so I decided to give the Dublin game a skip. Daddy said there’s not much point in going up there and getting beaten when you can do it later in the year instead. Mammy shot him one of her looks and said if we were good at being losers it was because we had a great role model. She’s great.
Conor is the only one playing at the minute and he’s not even getting a game because Cillian is picking the team without me at the moment. I’ll get him back when I drop the Diarmuid fella for the Connacht final. Stephen rang to see if I’d go on the bus as he was trying to book hotels and get numbers organised but Shamie had a better plan. So I told Stephen the moon boot was a bit heavy for a long journey and I’d give it a skip. He said he understood and fair play to him he took my order for gear for the season and also sent me a list of the carbs drinks deals he’d arranged. I asked him was there any sign of us getting any deal with a motor supplier and he told me to keep it very very quiet but things were progressing well with Massey Ferguson.
Anyway Shamie’s plan was to do something that was on the ‘list of things I want to do before we win an All-Ireland.’ He suggested we get into a bit of disguise – he loves dressing up - and head up to Croker and watch the match from Hill 16. I nearly didn’t make the toilet with the excitement … and those marks were definitely there from before. It was his best idea ever – or at least better than the other one he had in 2008. He had a load of disguises but I told him a nurse in a latex uniform might look strange in March on the Hill and his hairy armpits did nothing for the look. He ended up with a moustache and curly hair and a tee shirt and I said to him you’ll come in handy if we need a number nifty – but he didn’t get it.
So we got the train and I used my student card to get a cheap ticket. The guy at the station asked me what was I studying and I said ‘the form – sure Cheltenham is coming.’ Shamie laughed. Your man looked a bit annoyed and said ‘tell you what so – here’s a tip – stop acting the gobshite or I’ll charge you double.’ Mammy always told us to act with dignity in these situations so when he turned his back I stuck me middle finger up at him and he said ‘do you know what a mirror does?’ Thank god the train arrived and we just ran for it.
You could get alcohol on the train but we are off it for Lent. I don’t mind that so much but off sweets, crisps, X-Box and the soaps is a real killer. Leeroy goes ON all those things for Lent - he’s a real rebel. I don’t think he even got ashes this year. I think that’s why Mammy is not overly fond of him. We played cards for a good bit of the journey but had to stop when one of the other passengers complained. I keep telling Shamie not to shout so loud and bang his fist so hard when he sees a Snap!
The rest of the journey passed without major incident aside from the two Mayo fans playing Buckaroo! in the aisle. Shamie thinks they were drunk but one of them hunched down and the other sat on his back and their friends put crisps and peanuts and cans and bottles on the first fella until he shot up and sent the other lad flying. He flew across a table, knocking a cup of hot chocolate all over a nun. She was raging but said nothing - probably her worst day since she joined that silent order. The quare fella got up with half a soggy digestive in his hair and muttered sorry and said he’d say 10 Hail Marys. He was definitely from Swinford. They’re all like that there. Shamie roared at him ‘don’t be making a habit of that’ and we all laughed – except the nun.
Anyhow we got off in Heuston and Shamie said it’d be better to get a taxi than a Luas into town. Even the alsatians get on the Luas in pairs down there he said. The taximan was a real Dub. He asked us were we up for the match and I said yeah.
He told us Dermo Connolly just got out of the cab an hour ago and wouldn’t be playing as it was only Mayo and the Dubs were ‘going with our second team for this one’. He asked us did we know the famous Mayo footballing brothers and me and Shamie went a bit red. ‘Great players them lads’ he said, ‘the heart and soul of Mayo football. Real warriors. Jaysus – what’s their names?’ Shamie and me were going even redder now and were about to tell him when he said ‘feck yeah – Cillian and Diarmuid – that’s it – the O’Connors. Better than them other two – or is it three now – halfwits. Them fellas that only last about 20 minutes but everyone thinks the sun shines out of their …’ Just then Shamie said ‘Drop us here please’… The end of the worst journey … ever.
Croker would surely be better than this …. Tbc ….
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