In 2005 I was at the International Federation of Agricultural Journalist’s conference in Norway. It’s a lovely annual event, which includes farm visits, speeches, conferences and plenty of eating and drinking and socialising. It goes on for four or five days and we travel from here to there in buses and check in and out of this hotel and that. This year it was in South Africa. I wasn’t there. Too expensive. Next year it is in Holland. I might go to catch up with old friends and fellow agri reporters from all over the globe.

Anyway, back to Norway. Following dinner one night, our hosts organised a spitting competition. Apparently it’s a pastime or sport there. There was a trophy for the winner. Two participants per country. The Irish had a short meeting and it was decided that another man (I won’t embarrass him) and myself were the most qualified to “represent Ireland”. So I limbered up. I had to spit a pip and the distance was measured. Sadly I came eighth in this international competition.

I was devastated, letting my country down in this bespoke “International Federation of Agricultural Journalists Congress Spitting competition”. But what an honour it was to be able to represent my country! It’s the only way I could represent Ireland in any sport – one that is made up to suit. It reminds me of the International Rules jolly this week in Australia. A made-up game to give people a chance to “represent their country”. I have banged on about this makey-uppy charade for years, only to be scolded for my irreverence.

But this year takes the biscuit. Surely any country which wishes to succeed at international level in a serious way chooses its best players, its most deserving to don the country jersey? We are brainwashed into believing this hybrid gimmick called “International Rules” allows the players of a sport, which is only played seriously in one country, to “represent their country”. Well, if that is the case, why then are there no Dublin players jetting down under? Arguably, the greatest bunch of players ever to play Gaelic football, yet none of them are “representing their country” this year. Why?

Because a bit like that makey-uppy Norwegian international agricultural journalists spitting competition, it means absolutely nothing. I often wonder how old-school Gaelic games reporters can hold a straight face filing their copy as if this wheeze makes an ounce of difference to anybody apart from the participants and their families. We might be nervous about our international soccer team and rugby team doing the country proud in their endeavours. But the Irish International rules team (minus the best players in the country)? Would you give me a break! Maybe I am jealous. I came eighth in the “International Federation of Agricultural Journalists Spitting Contest 2005”. At least the worst the Irish Aussie rules, combined rules, international rules or whatever you call it team can do is second! All that said, if my son was selected would I be proud? Of course I would.

Running remains king

As somebody who enjoys running and athletics, it was heartening to see over 16,000 people taking part in the Dublin City Marathon last week. Great to see crowds out cheering too. It’s a far cry from the couple of thousand that ran it one year in the early 1990s. I live close to the Phoenix Park and it is lovely to see so many people jogging and running every day. You can have all the personal training, dieting, gyms and protein shakes you like, running remains the easiest, cheapest and most effective way of keeping fit for both mind and body.