I went to watch Cork take on Kerry live in Páirc Uí Caoimh today. I don’t watch GAA regularly, why would you, when you lose to Kerry all the time anyway. I like sports – but I’m apathetic to GAA, partly because I don’t understand the way the competitions work, but mostly because I was a terrible player underage, flat feet, asthma, and having the metabolism of a greyhound didn’t help my hunger for the game. I made a decent goalkeeper in another sport. The introduction of gumshields was the last straw for me – I left my club for good and put GAA on a shelf to gather dust.

Anyhow, I was offered a ticket, and because I have a healthy amount of curiosity I decided to head along to watch the Munster Final. I can write and I didn’t really want the ticket to be wasted on me, so I decided that I’d write about the match, and make as much sense of it as I could, for everybody else’s entertainment. I’m going to do my grandad a sports journalist, and GAA specialist proud.

Don’t get me wrong, I know a few things about the game. Kerry have a healthy appetite for beating Cork in football, I knew I wasn’t going to leave the stadium on the winning side. There was a whiff of this nihilism about the walk to the stadium. The Corkonians were laughing, in good spirits, not expecting much, but out to enjoy the loss anyway. The Kerrymen on the other hand had a sense of arrogance, like we expect to rock up to your new fresh stadium and beat you there. Also – Kerry has a fashion trend…

Yeah lads, the fuck is up with that?

So after trying to walk though the turnstile without showing my ticket, because I forgot to, and being told – “I have to fucking scan it” by the man in the booth, despite having been through turnstiles before, I took my seat for the match, half an hour before throw in. What I noticed as the stadium filled up, was the communal spirit and excitement of all the fans. A Kerrywoman in front of me kindly offered me sunscreen, which I desperately needed, and a passionate Cork fan, dressed in full kit, socks and sandals, was handing out tubs of ice cream to kids in the stands. There was also a Garda presence at the match, so don’t worry.

After belting out the national anthem, and watching Cork’s goalkeepers warm up, like a hawk, the action got underway at the pristine new Páirc Uí Caoimh. So we won the throw in which I was surprised about, and then Ruairí Deane (who is the only player’s name I remember because his uncle’s wife taught me in Senior Infants – thanks dad for that fact) skinned a few Kerry defenders alive, leaving them smelling that green, green grass and then unselfishly set up some other fella for a slam-dunk at the back post. A post I think the scorer collided with, and then he went off injured. I was too busy celebrating with pashun. Speaking of pashun, it is necessary for me to point out some the motivational words the aul’ fellas behind me were squaking – helpful comments to the tune of, “HOLD ONTO THE BALL,” “TAKE YOUR TIME,” and “GO HOME REF!” True pashun merchants, stalwarts of the game. County heroes if anything.

Then I got the other side of the coin, you know, the 2c coins that have mould on them. Kerry scored a goal. Regarding the goal, my limited ability to understand the game, and limited eyesight, has helped me to come up with this cutting edge analysis – we defended like shit. Kerry passed the ball a few times, our defence evaporated and the ball went in the goal. A small gust of wind crossed the stadium at this point – bless them, the tractor horns going off simultaneously in Kerry caused it. Playing with this gentle, if somewhat slurry-scented breeze, Cork scored the first goal again, except the sham didn’t injure himself this time. You don’t get three points for a slam dunk in basketball, yet you do in football, interesting concept. Thanks GAA.

Shit hit the fan from then on really. Kerry just kept scoring points. Whenever we got to the final third, their almost rugby like, in shape and defensive style, back-line, pinched the ball and they went to the other end other field fast. Kerry don’t fuck around. I heard on the radio afterwards that they have great forwards – which I can confirm. Those fellas play green and yellow chess, the movement was class, we couldn’t mark man for man, because the fella running out with the ball would just run into the space made by the forwards. Kerry don’t care about goals unless you make a mistake, points is the name of their game. They suck all the hope out of you by being relentless with their points, that demoralises you, until you feel like you are actually in Kerry. Cork tried to play like Kerry, out from the back with hand and short kick passes. But we were kind of like Ordinary Level Kerry, so to speak. First off, we were too slow to transition, too many sideways passes. I don’t know whether this was because the Kerry rearguard went between our main forwards and the midfield/backline or whether our forwards’ movement was shite. Secondly, we are not as good at passing and moving as Kerry. Sometimes you have to bite the bullet, your players can’t play a clever system. I wonder if we had just kicked long out of the back and countered Kerry, if we would have scored more. Players with less quality benefit from more space.

All the wondering in the world couldn’t stop some diabolical refereeing. Despite the crowd’s pleading, the ref didn’t go home. And that hurt us. He gave Ruairí Deane a black card, for no other reason than being too good for all the other players. I’m sure the Kerry wing-back was crying. Ciarán Brannigan wasn’t going to tolerate such bullying and carded Deane. He then proceeded to give Kerry every decision until the end of the game, even when Corkmen were fouled. Banish him back to Down, he’s clearly not over the All-Ireland when Cork gloriously defeated his bum county. Kerry scored another goal, leading a hopeful Cork fan to exclaim, “come on lads, there’s only 10 points in it!” Come on sham, I know nothing, but I knew we weren’t winning that game. I missed Kerry’s third, dad had enough and we bounced. That in my opinion, is the problem with Cork’s football, it’s too pedestrian, we just got smacked by some muck savages and we could take that in good humour. Cork need to play football that gets asses off seats, we had that for the first five minutes. Not good enough. I think a balls-to-the-wall fast counter attacking, full field pressing system could help Cork cause some upsets.

Then I remembered that I knew fuck all about football, and that I should probably leave total rehaul of the county system to the experts. I wouldn’t try and fly a plane without pilot training. Fair play Kerry, can’t wait til ye lose to Dublin again.