The truth hurts

I rarely contribute to hurling discussions online. I feel a bit intimidated by the really heavyweight contributors, the type who train underage teams at their club and have informed opinions on the underappreciated qualities of Pat McGrath. But mostly it’s because threads, in what is surely a corollary of Godwin’s Law, will invariably erupt into slagging matches filled with ad hominem attacks, duels that Waterford people are spectacularly ill-equipped to engage in, what with the shortage of Celtic crosses in the county.

So while this blog is an exercise in futility in terms of people reading it, it has the dual function of being a diary of my thoughts for the ages – did I really once-upon-a-time support a Champions League-style hurling championship? – and a useful way of blowing off steam without subjecting myself to the ‘what would ya know in Waaaterfuhrd’ abuse of our betters.

With that in mind, I present a post from An Fear Rua by reg reagan which didn’t so much strike a chord with me as cause my entire being to resonate. I’m preserving it here so that it can be read in the future without the inevitable sneers that it will attract.

A meander on whinging, Waterford and why the fcuk do I bother?

What I’ve written has no real beginning, middle or end. I don’t write much on this site. Usually some oul sh*te about rugby or winding up the more republican posters. The reason I don’t write about hurling much is because it drains me even thinking too much about it.

reg reagan

There was a lot of oul whinging done in Waterford after the semi-final: a lot by idiotic WD people, bitching about “the system”; some by our considerable band of cheerleaders in the meeja (let’s be honest, we’re second only to the Dubs for the Humphries/Hogan/McEvoy love-ins) and more by non-Limerick, Munster people who fcuking despise the handyness (t’was handy enough, lads) of Kilkenny’s run-in.

I have no truck with any of it. If we want to win All-Irelands (laughable, really) we should beat that Limerick team every day of the week, end of story.

We need to have a serious look at ourselves and the Semis we lost:

1998: Should have won it, lucky KK goal and a lack of nous. We’ll chalk that one down to experience.

It gets ugly from here on in:

2002, bottled it;
2004, bottled it, full-back line;
2006, bottled it;
2007, 17 wides, full back line and, em… oh yeah, BOTTLED IT!

Anyone else see a pattern here? What the fcuk is wrong with us?

As a Waterford man I was up in Croke Park roaring for Limerick yesterday. I’ve got absolutely no connection with the place at all but just wanted to see an under-dog do it. Wanted to vicariously live the euphoria, the relief, the real passion of winning an All Ireland after a real drought. (I’d experienced it somewhat at Tyrone and Armagh victories, but that was only football!) Not the predictable, “happy” satisfaction of winning your thirtieth or hundred and thirtieth or whatever the f**k it was. Henry was going on about how he’d dreamed about walking up the steps to collect the cup on All-Ireland Sunday. If you’re born in Lismore, Lemybrien or Lisduggan you dream of being in row Z of the Upper Canal when a Waterford man is doing the same. I’m 23, I know no matter how much I achieve in my career, my family, my life there’ll be an empty hole in me if I never see them win an All-Ireland.This is something that is 100% impossible to comprehend if you are from the Big 3. I’ll broach no argument there.

As I left Croke Park after the Cork match in 2006 I swore I’d never put myself through the wringer of supporting them again. I kept my promise up to the Championship (didn’t go to the league final, I fcuking meant it this time). Then Cork in Semple. Sure what harm, I’ll go. Even if they lose, sure they’re still in it.

Bastards.

Hooked again.

No need to re-cap what happened this year, to be honest, even if we had beaten Limerick I think we wouldn’t have it mentally, on the pitch or on the sideline, to win it.

Jesus wept . . .

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