This time from the Zürich side:
The combined Zurich / St. Gallen squad arrived into Maastricht late on Friday evening. Fail to prepare, prepare to fail is the old Roy Keane cliché, and if he were there, I'm sure he'd be rolling his eyes, looking for Triggs, and telling me that I was a cr@p player and a cr@p manager, as the pre-match carb loading involved a trip to McDonalds. Anyway, after a relatively decent night's kip we all got up for a really thrilling breakfast of scrambled egg, bacon, bread, ham, cheese and cornflakes. Unfortunately despite getting up at the ungodly hour of 7.30, there were no bananas left for us Swiss monkeys....
So we made our merry way over to the pitches to do our rain sodden umpiring duty at 9 am, and to be honest the set up Maastricht have is something to behold. If only Kanton Zurich was as supportive as the Maastrictians, we'd be away in a hack. 5 pitches, including 2 all weather astro pitches were at the club's disposal for the day - although to be honest, I think they could have got away with 4. Anyway, while Mick Cryan somehow had us down to umpire at 9, our first game wasn't until 11.30 so we had time to soak up the atmosphere, and take a sneak peek at our opponents, Frankfurt and Gironde B. Frankfurt scored a fine goal from the thrown in - their midfielder fielded the ball and ran through a scared bunch of French lads, before drilling the ball into the net. Game over we thought, and game over it proved. Frankfurt showed no mercy to the French and to be honest after Henry gate last November - who could blame them?
Anyway, our first game was against Gironde B. At this stage we were beginning to work out each other's names - which was handy considering we'd never played together before. Our game plan was simple, get the ball, and send it long into the full forwards. None of this swarm like defending or overelaborate handpassing. Despite my best efforts, it's safe to say we were more than a little casual in the opening half. Only for the sharp reflexives of Beano the cat, we would have been a goal down inside 2 minutes. Unfortunately Brian was again exposed shortly afterwards, and he could do nothing when our full back line decided a high ball into our square was a thing of beauty to be observed before the smallest man on the pitch fisted the ball to the net. Some hard work in midfield from Sheehy the younger (and taller), and Dermot of the Fallons, dragged us back into the game. Some nice shooting from Steve Murphy and we were only a point or two down.
Harsh words followed at half time. Harsh, but badly needed words.
"Eh lads - will ye ever just let the ball into Steve".
"Eh lads - lift the bleedin' intensity."
"Eh lads - come on ta fnck"
and finally - "Eh lads, do you want to be going home saying ye lost to a French B Team??"
I think we finally woke up then, and well taken goals from Steve and Sheehy Jnr, meant we ran out convincing winners in the end, 2-8 to 1-2....thanks to Mick Moran for reffing the game.
Surprisingly enough, the McDonalds and the breakfast had now been burnt, and the lads were hungry. So as general dogsbody I was sent to fetch. When I returned, we had gained a new member - a local lad called Bart. So sufficiently nourished, and with an extra body in tow, we did battle with Frankfurt.
The match against Frankfurt wasn't a classic, but it'll certainly be remembered. I think we were all in agreement that Frankfurt were a better team, a more cohesive unit and possibly better footballers, but it was still disappointing. The match itself was a complete goal fest, and despite a valiant fightback in the 2nd half, and a brilliant top corner goal from Bart, we were beaten men.
Anyway this meant we were into the play offs for 5th - 8th place. Our next match was against the A-Team from Gironde. This was a much tougher match than their B team, and to be honest if the lads from Gironde had their shooting boots on our goose would have been cooked by half time. As it was, the wayward shooting and strong defending from Kerry Jerry and Mick Daly, made sure we were still in contention at half time.
A repeat of the previous Gironde half time team talk promptly followed....(I'm nothing if not inspiring), and the lads were ready for battle. Some classy points from Steve and Sheehy junior brought us back into contention before a clean pick off the ground in the small square brought us the chance to take the lead. Ciarán "as cold as ice" McCabe slotted the ball past the Gironde goalie and we were in front. Despite "Ranger" Dave Thompson failing to match his hero Ally McCoist, strong defending from the likes of Mick, Geraldo "Kerry" O'Sullivan and a lot of luck meant we were through to the 5th / 6th place place play off.
If was there that we faced yet another French team St. Malo. Those of you who know your history will recognise St. Malo as a stop off port for Irish exiles and priests from the Penal Times, but I doubt the welcoming party was wearing pink or doing the haka? Difficult to raise the same kind of team talk, as these lads were wearing pink, were clearly playing soccer, and of course were French, but sure I managed to throw out every cliché I could think of. To be fair to our lads, I think this was the best performance we put in, and we were in front from start to finish. I was particularly impressed with Brian Sheehy's metamorphosis into Colm Coyle., taking people down cynically to beat de band. Now granted, that was after I told him to do it, but once a Meath man, ALWAYS a Meath man.
Anyway, after some neat goal scoring, some dodgy finishing and some stout defending, we secured 5th place - sure in the knowledge that Swiss GAA was on the front front, and next year either St. Gallen, Zürich or a combined Swiss team would be more than capable of doing some real damage on the Shield, if not the Championship circuit.
Thereafter followed a feed of beer in small glasses after the Dutch hotel underestimated Irish drinking habits. Big kudos to everyone who took part, but in particular to the 2 Brians, Clerkin and Sheehy for organising it all. Here's to next year in both FOOTBALL and HURLING.
Is mise,
Conor
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