CLOSE your eyes and your imagination does the rest.
Those familiar tones from Kerry to Derry, the thump of a boot on the ball, the sharp ‘clack’ of the ash on the sliothar.
“Ah yes, this is how we do it,” you remember as the GAA portal connects you with home for a few joyful seconds.
Open your eyes and you see a bridge far off in the distance behind the goalposts that’s shrouded in one of the fog banks that blow in off the Pacific Ocean’s deep blue vastness.
You’re a long way from home but among friends old and new at the GAA centre on Treasure Island, right in the middle of Golden Gate Bay in San Francisco, California.
It must have been down to homesickness that for some strange reason the words of TUV zealot Ruth Patterson came into my head as I watched a match there last Sunday.
“May God forgive them for what they’ve just done to Ulster,” cried Ruth in opposition to the Good Friday Agreement 25 years ago and when Sean Treacy’s hit two goals early in the second half against Ulster Club in San Fran’s old firm battle I recalled her impassioned outburst.
With Treacy’s new signing Matthew Tierney of Galway proving to be a serious handful despite the best efforts of the Ulster defence, Ulster were 11 points down at one stage and heading for a hiding in what was the second game of the five-game series.
“Get the feckin ball to Tierney,” shouted one of the Sean Treacy’s mentors understandably but Ulster were able to get to grips with him and drag themselves into the game.
They fought back brilliantly in the 13-a-side duel and had closed the gap to two points before the referee, who issued yellow, red and black cards, blew the final whistle.
You might imagine football out here is a good-natured kickabout between the lads but, believe me, it is fiercely competitive.
Treacy’s win meant they levelled the five-game series 1-1. The winners progress to the USA Championship finals in Denver.
Before the men’s football there was a ladies’ match and after it a hurling game between ‘Frisco-based Tipperary and Na Fianna. The wind off the ocean makes shooting from one side of the pitch almost impossible but there were some absolute screamers from the shooting side.
The burger stall did great business and the kids munched Tayto crisps and Cabury’s Snack bars and the adults supped Pacifico beers up in the packed bleachers as the action went on out on the field.
Every year new teams of young men and women make the trip out west and plug into this invaluable celebration of Irishness. Teams have to have at least two American natives and seven US-based players and there’s always room for a county star or two to come in.
Galway All-Ireland finalist Tierney was the big catch this year but Ulster had former Dublin player CJ McCormack in their team and in previous years Gareth McKinless (Derry), Rory Grugan (Armagh), Conor McCarthy (Monaghan) and BBC GAA presenter Thomas Niblock have been among the hundreds who’ve lined out for them.
You will see some distressing sights of homeless people in San Francisco but it’s almost impossible not to be seduced by the Californian lifestyle - the climate, the beautiful scenery and the opportunities for work. After the game, as the Irish tunes belted out in the Abbey Bar in the city, Christopher Lennon, one of the Ulster mentors, told me how his life had been transformed in the States.
He had scraped a living as a lorry driver and, after being virtually skint by the time he paid his bills, he decided there must be more to life and so he followed in the footsteps of so many millions of his countrymen by booking his passage west.
His American dream came true in so many ways.
When he arrived in San Francisco he didn’t know how to swim but after a couple of years looking out at the Bay he decided to take lessons. Just eight months after he’d got out of his armbands, he was standing on the rocks of Alcatraz ready for the start of the Golden Gate Triathlon.
The gun sounded and he dived into the freezing water. The waves in the bay were so high that he didn’t see another swimmer until he reached the shore an hour later.
He clambered out, kept going forward and he’s been going forward ever since.
GAAGO is a handy tool when you’re far from home. We watched the All-Ireland semi-finals in a house at Lake Tahoe, just across the state line in Nevada. Snow-capped mountains above, the deep blue lake below through the pines and us all crowded round a laptop watching Armagh versus Monaghan come to a slow boil.
Us holidaymakers, ex-pat Bernie Krystow all in orange, first generation Irish, second generation Irish and a guy from Texas called Kegan who couldn’t have been more into it had he been born in Dorsey and not Dallas.
“Darn, that was a sweet play,” said Kegan, a former college quarterback, when Armagh got their nose in front and when the Orchard attack settled for a point instead of a goal he spotted the error.
“They shoulda gone for a three-pointer there,” he said.
That’s Armagh for you Kegan - shoulda/coulda/woulda…
Two days later it was the fourth of July and Zephyr beach at Tahoe was a heaving mass of partying people. One of the kids had an Armagh hat on and, sure enough, we heard a shout of: “Yeoooooo, mon Armagh” as we searched for a place to set up camp.
In a flash we were surrounded by a posse of Irish revellers who’d driven 28 hours from Michigan to party at the Lake.
We discussed the match.
“My brother was playin’ for Monaghan,” says one fella who turned out to be Dessie Ward’s brother.
Small world isn’t it?
There’s a time to close your eyes and think of home, there’s a time to keep them open and drink it all in.
