Sport is simple so don't complicate things

The clock jumped forward, an hour less in bed, more natural daylight, the start of summer, the sunshine arriving, warmth in the air, a stretch in the evenings, smiling faces; all this positivity brings the numbers out to training, inspiring everyone to become more active and spend more time outdoors.

It’s the start of the GAA season too, match fixtures get sent out, challenge matches are arranged to get the youth back into the zone of working together, playing as a team and recalling their dormant skills. The backyard suddenly sees the soccer goals lose their corner of the grass to be replaced by GAA goals, the shooting changes from penalties to scoring points, from keepie-uppies to solos, from dribbling to catching the high ball. The studs are put away and the moulds come out.

There’s talk of a match against local rivals Kilmaine; it’s only a challenge but that doesn’t matter, the historical battle of two local parishes playing against one another is as strong as ever. Whether it’s championship or challenge, male or female, under 10s or seniors, is all irrelevant; it’s opposite sides of the fence, years of listening to wins, defeats and stories shared, deep lasting sporting memories never forgotten. Children have parents from the opposing villages, the history deep rooted from their upbringings, best friends are on both sides, families are on both sides, and when it comes to the game it’s win at all costs.

There is something healthy about a little competitive fun, where the youth want to achieve something, where they want to do their best, where they want to have some friendly fun with their friends and show their parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and everyone else what they can do, even if they are from opposing parishes. The debates at home become heated, interesting and who’s shouting for who!

It’s a beautiful April morning, sunrise is later and my body clock is still adjusting but my mind knows it needs to wake up as a busy day awaits. It’s just leap out, don't think and get up. I know the sunrise will be magical this morning. With a lot to digest, a lot to fit in, there’s only one place I’m heading, and that’s to the mountain in the neighbouring parish.

Running is a simple sport. With runners, shorts, t-shirt and water, you can leave the house with a carefree load and move the body at no cost and enjoy some feel good fun. I jog up and down the alleyway to warm up; the fresh easterly wind would cut you but is refreshing and feels good all the same. As the ground is firm today my feet naturally bounce around the brown, green and grey trail underfoot. One tip toes up the first slight incline, the nature trail rebounds one's feet back up, making the journey feel so much easier than on mucky, boggy underfoot in winter.

I begin the climb, it's still a little dull, a mile to go on this first climb, I know I will reach the top of the summit for sunrise. With three steep inclines, I talk to myself, positively. The first wooden structure, halfway through the first climb, is a timber creation of a squirrel carrying its baby kitten. Each time I pass, I greet my dad because he has pushed me up this mountain many times. Sometimes I ask for help, sometimes I tell a story, sometimes I offload a problem but I always smile. Smiling, I’m told, sends positive thoughts and emotions to the brain, so in many situations like when running hard up this monster, if one was to dwell, they would fall apart.

I spurt up the next steep incline, it levels off, I’m now getting to run fast. Turning the next corner, I see what looks like a hawk, keep the head down, keep pushing up, pumping my arms, until I reach the limestone loop. When you run out of the greenery and race up into the wide-open rocks at the top, each and every time it’s a jaw-dropping view, a sight for miles, a height so high over Galway and Mayo. No sunrise yet, it’s looming there behind the horizon, it will appear for the next climb.

A flying fast downhill, where the arms float in semi circles, balancing the body, the legs just move in sync with the flow of the descent and I just look ahead. The mountains, the lake, wild birds, heading into a trail of trees, running through the forest fast, freedom at its best. When you get into a rhythm, everything feels good, life is amazing, you don’t notice anything only beauty. This has a magical way of clearing the mind, of parting with an outside world, of forgetting reality, because one must focus. The surrounding landscape, nature, beauty and totally feeling good consumes one. Running really is a simple sport.

The journey continues, the next climb, I get to the squirrel again, this time dad is carrying my daughter. I tell him about Shrule/Glencorrib’s big challenge match this evening, of course against his Kilmaine. I smile from ear to ear at many happy match memories of his generation, my husband’s, mine and now our children’s. The traditions continue. I go through the motions of tip toeing up, pumping the arms, keeping the mind right, and then I can see the bright yellow appearing through the trees. Reaching the limestone summit, the sun is beginning to rise, I am blinded by its brightness, this is a beautiful sight, each and every time. Today is going to be a good day. The heat from the sun sends me on my way, on the track to face the day, whatever lies ahead.

I arrive at the car, it starts to get busy, I gradually bring myself back into reality. I have a freeness and happiness about me. RTÉ begin to talk about tariffs, about Liberation Day, about the USA and announcements later. I turn off the radio, that’s not happening until later and for now I have more important commitments. I call my daughter, she’s already awake, the first words, “match day”. I explain it's only a challenge, I get told otherwise. The day continues, the brightness lasts, and it’s home time again before we know it.

I talk about everything but the match but it always comes back to stories, to who’ll be playing where and how they are going to beat my homeland.

We head on our journey through the roads of nowadays and of past days, where I played, cycled and lived for many years. As we pass the home house, my daughter says “Well, as grandad used to say, football is a simple game. Don’t complicate things.” I smile and explain of the many times I heard that phrase both when he and everyone else was playing!

I tell my daughter to go out and have some fun with her friends from both sides and that everyone is a winner today.

As we enter the grounds, the jibing, laughs and jokes begin. ‘Who are ya shouting for today? Do ya remember the day we bet.’ And on it goes. I enjoy the banter back and over and head for a neutral side.

There is something beautiful about watching your child run naturally for a kickout or jumping up for a ball. Some skills of course are rusty from a winter off but simplicity saves unwasted energy, providing for an entertaining game. A youths game cuts out lots of complications, the players hold position, mark their opponent and just play the simple game, naturally.

The first-half is very one sided but a lot can change in a half and that’s exactly what happens; the second-half completely turns around, the scores go up on the other side, a right bit of healthy rivalry begins, a brilliant game of football and great support from the sideline, where the history, deepness and the passion for one’s parish can strongly be felt. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, parents, roar for their own, no matter what side they are from.

As I look across the pitch today, I think of all the times I spent down here with and watching generations play against each other. It was always a fun occasion, all one needed was boots, gear and water. Just like running, it didn’t cost anything. Simple. Uncomplicated.

The whistle goes, the girls surround the ref, the roaring can be heard. “What’s the score?” It’s a draw. There’s silence and then a clap, a cheer, and all in for Miwadi and sweets.

The jibing, the laughs and jokes continue. As we head home up to my newer homeland, we pass the home house. My daughter says, “Mam, granny was screaming for me today, even though she’s from Kilmaine.” I remind her that family is more important than parishes and so we shout for family no matter what side of the fence we’re on. There was silence and a smile.