Cork vs Kerry

30th Oct 2002

Standing in The Rain

Danny Elbow

Peering out through a window in a small pub in Killarney I shuddered. Having witnessed the crushing defeat at the hands of the Spanitos I turned my attention to what I was doing in Kerry in the first place. The Munster Senior Football semi-final. Having used up most of my adrenalin and nerves I still felt unsatisfied. I needed a win. I needed to go to bed smiling. The Kerrymen I had hugged (many of them quite unhygienic) and danced with when Robbie Keane pumped the equaliser home now became the enemy. Suddenly all around me green and gold shirts became symbols of mistrust and suspicion. It was time to go to Fitzgerald Stadium.

Amazingly the game went ahead

Safely out of range of the Kerry eyes I stood in the pub lobby waiting for one of the boys who was going through his "keys, phone, wallet" routine. Being quite a mess it took him quite a while and the rest of us were in no fit state to help, it was all that extra time.

   I decided it was the best place to do a quick kit change and reveal the red jersey from underneath the green one which now had some sort of psychological immorality attached to wearing it. As I took it off to reveal the red underneath I thought of something that used to be on RTE years ago. I'm sure you remember the advert telling people to keep their dogs in at night because they'd go and turn into vicious blood hungry hounds and kill the local farmers sheep. I was now that dog as we left the pub, caught up in the rush of the pack.

  My last trip to Killarney for the same fixture involved sun block, sunglasses and short pants. Having forgotten all about anything trivial like the weather whilst watching football being played on the otherside of the world I innocently stepped outside and immediately stepped back in again having witnessed the most depressing sight and coming to terms with the fact that my regalia for this year's fixture would be rain coat, Roches Stores bags and Mickey Sull's Old Doll's umbrella. I retreated again to the safety of the lobby and tied the bags around my runners. Of course being late for my lift at 10am that morning I grabbed the first jacket I put my hand on: a light woollen fleece with a dodgy zip and no hood.

  Anyway as we took up position inside the ground just at the throw in my jeans announced their penetration and for the rest of the match the ends flickered off my ankle robbing me of precious heat. Of course the umbrella was ripped to shreds by the wind the minute we left the pub. It was nine minutes and about 2 million gallons of water later before Cork's full forward and Mr. Reliable Colin Corkery opened the scoring. For the rest of the match my time was divided between tactically positioning myself downwind behind other spectators, trying to nudge closer to those with umbrellas to rob a few inches of shelter and watching the bloody game.

  As easy as it sounds trying to figure out what was happening on the pitch was difficult at the best of times. Determining who had the ball, why they lost it, who they lost it to, who scored etc. was near impossible through the torrential downpour that one wouldn't expect the likes of in the rainy season in Japan. It's consistency fascinated me. Usually if you get a spell of prolonged rain you get sporadic downpours that are frighteningly intense. This one was amazing, it just kept going. You know when you try to wash pubes out of the shower with the hardest (and coldest) spray the unit has to offer, imagine standing underneath that for an hour and a half, well then was actually worse !

  Now I do have a side to me that will appear bizarre but half time at matches I usually like to go to the toilet to check out the facilities. See what colour the soap and the toilet paper is, whether it's paper towels or hand dryers, get involved in a brawl etc. But I was so sodden, soggy and soaked movement was completely undesirable, I stood perfectly still. At least Cork were winning by two points though, but the game was a shambles and it continued that way for the second half as I sobered up more and more and the rain that had trickled it's way down my back was causing more and more unpleasant sensations. There was a bit of a break in the weather for a few minutes as the rain went from +10 on your shower dial to about +3 and this allowed the game to open up.....momentarily of course.

Some laugh we had on the way home like!

Those who shined were Graham Canty, Eoin Sexton at full back and Nicholas Murphy. Kerry got a grip on Cork's midfield in the second half but the domination of Corkery in half forward line was to be instrumental in the final result. Kerry caught up and went two ahead and it seemed like we were about to witness the most depressing day in sport EVER. But Colin Corkery formed a rescue operation and managed to show what a solid player he really is by taking the game into his own hands and finally managing to make a draw out of it at 0-8 each. It felt like an eternity standing there in the driving rain soaked to the bone, my body welcoming in pneumonia like a long lost friend.

I would have liked to have brought you a more positive, informed report on what Cork's chances are this year but those feckers in Met Eireann just wouldn't let me. However the replay has been fixed this weekend so now you can get to use up all your Ol'