Read part 2 here: http://shotsfromdistance.blogspot.ie/2016/03/5-days-in-september-part-2.html
DAY 3: Saturday
The night rolls on.
I’ve found the two brothers who I met on the flight over outside a small bar, located in secluded backdrop in the city. We’ve chatted previously about our early morning flight predicament on the way over and now the three of us are in Faro with time to kill. Least now we don’t have to worry about getting a Taxi by ourselves.
The two bars at the top of the alleyway were packed with Irish fans. There was no chance of a seat so after some time I moved to the place across from it which seemed to be a mix between a Café, a Restaurant and a Bar. I say Café because there was a selection of books to choose from. And I say Bar/Restaurant cause they were still serving even at this late hour. I took a seat close to a socket so I could charge my phone and searched for a book written in English. Eventually I settled for a fictional book with the premise of a 2nd Cuban Missile Crisis in the late 1980’s. Enjoyable and engaging, it was certainly a novel way to spend the night! Sadly, I never took the name of the book and have failed to find it ever since.
Despite the gripping tale of a Soviet return to the shores of a Havana, I had no intention of spending the night reading a book. I linked back up with the two brothers who were chatting with more lads from the YBIG.ie forum. One of them, a Clare man, immediately turned the topic of the conversation to the Hurling final. This was probably the first proper chat I had about Galway’s prospects since they had beaten Tipperary. I expressed a natural reservation given our last couple of finals but the usual sense of hope that this year could be different. I still sighed with great contentment of the conclusion of the semi-final and relayed my tales of that day to the group. Of the fights that took place when Tipp fans throw their toys out of the pram. Everyone at the table was in full agreement that Tipp hurling fans were the greatest shower of bastards going!
We also spoke of the great Joe Canning, the man carrying the weight of Galway on his talented shoulders (I'm assuming they are talented, come on its Joe Canning FFS!). What we also spoke of was of a different pressure bearing on the man, the rumours of his mother being quite sick and that Canning was going all out to win it for her. Everyone has their own motivations in sport, but everyone has a personal life as well that will remain long after the game is over. Life can give us painful reminders sometimes of what truly matters. I hoped for Joes sake he could win it for himself. It's a joy alone to watch him hurl in the first place
As some lads retired to their accommodation, the three all-nighter amigos moved back up to the two bars in search of drink and more craic. We soon found more people on our flight also enduring the late hours. I ended up having a great conversation with a club official from Achill Island FC and the development of their club. An active member in my own football club in Tuam and with a new pitch being developed, I was keen to tap into his knowledge and the challenges a small Junior club can face. The conversations I was having that night mixed from the serious of a Hurling finals and Prison officers to the light hearted tales of Irish fans in Albufeira. The night took another weird turn when after 5am in a small pub, the individual from Clare started to sing. It wasn’t a football song, nor was it a Rebel song, it was “Here I Am, Lord” I would later hear this song rolled out in future away trips but for shock and silly factor, the Faro version tops it as we all joined in with the hymn, much to the amusement of the Portugese bar staff!
Spirits were as high as the alcohol level in our blood. Both the brothers & myself decided at 5:30am that it was time to make our way to the airport. We joked with our Taxi driver about the difference between “evil” English football fans and the “Boys In Green”. He got us there in good time and we made our way through security. I was the last one to get through the scanner and collect my bag, only for one of the lads utters loud enough for security to hear “HOW HAS THAT LAD GOT HIS BAG THROUGH?”. Rather than panic, all three of us descended into four minutes of incoherent laughter. Security didn’t give me a second look thankfully. After a while we soon forgot what we were laughing about but kept on laughing anyways. To think, I thought the early flight was going to be a nightmare!
I slept on the return flight and we arrived back in Ireland just after 12. The two brothers and I went our separate ways. While waiting for the bus, I helped myself to a packet of crisps and a free copy of the MayoNews. It has a clear focus on the football replay, whereas at that moment I was struggling to focus full-stop. Thankfully the clear air and blue skies of a fresh day helped me shake off the cobwebs, to the degree I was able to step up onto the bus. While waiting for it to arrive, I saw other people waiting at the stop with a pint glass of Guinness. Where they got it, I didn't know. Why they were drinking it, I also didn't know. However, it looked damn tasty. I wasn't a lost cause just yet with the drink!
It was the shortest away trip I’ve ever been on. Upon arriving home, my body hadn’t quite adjusted to my all nighter and lack of sleep. I stroll around the house in a bit of daze. To pass the time, I’m still editing that promo video for Galway hurling ahead of their own game. You remember? The one I decided to make the day before I left for Portugal. The video I stayed up until 1am trying to finish! The video that distracted me enough to bring only one pair of socks to the heat of Faro! Well I couldn’t upload it while I was in Portugal, and only on returning home did I realise it needed more editing. A good promo video needs a couple of weeks before the main event to take off. Now I had less 24 hours and was resigned to the fact it would not be going viral. I still kept working on it however in my zombie like state. It was a lost cause.
Croke Park, meanwhile, is looking beautiful before a packed house. Dublin vs. Mayo is on. The game was a replay of the previous weeks drawn encounter. The draw forced one Mayo supporter over in Faro to fork out 200 euro for a direct flight home in time for the replay. A staunch Mayo fan, bordering on the lunatic fringes, I kept a dignified silence as he told his story. I’m not a fan of Mayo football, not in the slightest. It was something I explained in an article last summer for Club 51, the Mayo GAA fans site. http://mayoclub51.com/way-tuam/. It was well received thankfully but my feelings remained the same. I wanted them to lose. The first half was extremely enjoyable as both sides traded scores and went in at half-time 10 points apiece. Early in the 2nd half, Cillian O’Connor struck a panic and fear in my heart when he put Mayo up by three with a dubious goal. In true Mayo fashion however, they failed to kick on and make the advantage count and Dublin turned the screw with three goals of their own to win the game and secure passage to the Al-Ireland Final.
My prayers are answered and the miserable Green and Red brigade are sent packing once more. This doesn’t delight me as much as it has had in the past. I’m relieved yes but the cynic is no more in me. I am getting soft, more passive? I'm not sure. Then again, I have only got 3 hours sleep in the last 32 hours! And much to my surprise, and my stupidity, I didn’t go to sleep during that day or even early that night. Once again, it was 1am by the time I nodded off. The video was finished, uploaded, and getting a few views. I tried to get to bed early but for some bloody reason, I couldn’t sleep. And sometime during the night I woke up to a muscle spasm in my right calf. http://www.webmd.com/hw-popup/nighttime-leg-cramps
Already, I’m a fitness doubt for the hurling final!
Part 4:
https://shotsfromdistance.blogspot.ie/2016/08/5-days-in-september-part-4.html
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