WHATEVER YOU SAY, SAY NOTHING!

WHATEVER YOU SAY, SAY NOTHING!

THIS weekend, counties all over Ireland will hold their ‘open nights’. This is where supporters and press get to meet teams ahead of their respective championships.

Now, for any journalist, an open night can be a challenging experience.

I remember interviewing John Carroll from Tipperary ahead of the 2001 All-Ireland final. Usually, we like to sit the players down, maybe throw them a cup of tea and a bit of grub to relax them. But this one was taking place on the field. In between drills! I got a feeling the interview wasn’t going to put Michael Parkinson’s position at the BBC under much pressure.

Still, I knew Carroll fairly well anyway and it wasn’t exactly going to be the most stressful of interviews.  Or so I thought.

No sooner had I thrust a Dictaphone in front of the Roscrea man when an army of Tipp supporters surrounded him. It suddenly became a Them v Moi situation and Carroll, the most laid back man this side of the Atlantic, loved every second of it.

“John, are you worried that Roscrea’s poor form might hinder your build-up to this final?” I asked. Harmless enough.

But Carroll hit the trigger quicker than Johnny Pilkington pulling on a ground ball.

“Poor form?” he gasped, mockingly. “Sure didn’t we beat ye (Kilruane) two weeks ago!”

Cue uproar from the ‘fans’. ‘Waaahheeeyyyy,’ they roared. “Aboy, Carroll. You tell him. Lawlor, you clown!”

They clapped him heartily on the back and I got a few good natured thumps myself. But I’m not as tough as Carroll. They bloody hurt.

Face reddening, I ventured another question, desperately looking for redemption.

“Are you concerned, John, that Wexford nearly caught you in the drawn semi-final. Ye seemed to collapse when Martin Storey came on?”

“Sure didn’t we win the replay by nine points?” Carroll replied.

Cue the crowd again. “Waaahhheeeeyyyyy. Abbooyy Carroll!!!!”

Off I limped, more humbled than Fianna Fail in the last general election.

Anyways, there’ll be lots of that this weekend. Open nights are a great idea provided they are run right but this notion of interviewing a player on the pitch? Ah, forget about it.

Last week, fellow journalist Ewan MacKenna lamented the access that writers have to players and managers. He recounted that he made 52 phone calls to one manager looking for a chat but with no luck. Now personally, I wouldn’t have made five calls, but Ewan is probably more determined than I and fair play to him.

It’s important now to remember that players are not professional and they really do not owe us a thing. But Ewan’s column (for the Eircom sports website and well worth a read) makes the point that a bit of PR can be good for both the players and the Association.

It got me thinking. When I first started working off on the national media scene in 1998 it was a totally different landscape. Tom O’Riordan, formerly of the Indo, used to tell how players would bring the best china out when he called to visit. I never had any of that, mind you, but I have nonetheless met some great characters along the way.

The best memories? Frank Roche from The Herald tearing his cruciate on Langton’s dance floor after a Kilkenny press night about 13 years ago. Back then the Kilkenny press night was a tough gig and Rochey decided to unleash some stress on the dance floor. In fairness he was pulling some moves, dancing to the smashing tribute group Abba-esque. Then came the dreaded tear.

The fact that he hobbled over to the Offaly presser a night later showed what a brave old soldier he is. That same night Gentleman Joe Dooley, one of the most co-operative hurlers we ever came across, gave us the slip. Joe was somewhere between 70 and 76 at the time and still hurling at the highest level, breaking all sorts of records. On this occasion, however, he wanted to keep it low key.

We couldn’t find him anywhere, not even when we offered up a hobbling Rochey as a sacrificial lamb. Disappointed, we headed off and booked into some local B & Bs. Seven or eight of the lads found a roof in this particular B & B and they were sitting down munching sandwiches and biscuits about an hour later when the bould Joe walked into the kitchen. His face fell like the property market. The B & B belonged to him and his wife, Marie! Everyone burst out laughing. I think the boys interviewed him over a full Irish breakfast the following morning! Where else would you get it?

A year later we hit Tuam for a Galway footballers press night. We did our days work and then made for the west. After a few hours of interviews we filed some copy and made for Martin MacNamara’s pub. He was the Galway goalkeeper at the time and just hours after we interviewed him he came over again and chatted to us for the evening. With a big match approaching he didn’t see out the night with us but before he left he pulled a bottle of rum down from a dusty shelf. And I mean dusty. I’d say the bottle had seen a pair of hands in 20 years and judging by the green faces on the boys the next morning ‘twasn’t a vintage that wintered well either. From then on, I always looked out for Martin Mac and even though we are impartial, you’d be thrilled to see him win medals.

All that was a far cry from when the Mayo players ran out the back door of a hotel before the 1996 All-Ireland final. They made their move just as the press was coming in the front door. The Cavan boys pulled a similar stroke soon after.

Three weeks before a particular All-Ireland final I remember going to one county and asking if there was a press pack.

“There certainly is,” the chairman replied. “Our PRO Tommy (not real name) has it.”

“Grand,” says I. “I’ll head over to him to get it.”

“Oh God, no,” the chairman replied. “Tommy doesn’t like the press at all.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

We’ve seen it all at this stage.

From one player driving us around the local area trying to get a lock-in, to another player trying to hit a journalist by drilling a sliotar at him from the far side of the field.

From Rochey tearing his cruciate to players freezing in terror when they are asked: ‘So how is the mood in the camp?’

But it’s all part of it. We drive on. No matter who goes to ground, there are always great characters and colour about if you look hard enough. That’s the glory of the GAA.