Football and farming work in tandem. Hand in hand. Ying and Yang. How many footballers do we see coming from a farming background? The next Colm Cooper or John Heslin perhaps? But behind most young footballing farmers, there’s an angry father, shouting. Behind most young people wanting to practise skills in the farmyard, there is an older person wanting to squeeze every bit of air out of an O’Neill’s.

I was one of those young lads. Growing up on a farm in the west, kicking a ball was as vital to me as feeding the cattle. Practising the solo as critical as checking the sheep. Belting the ball against the shed wall was as important to me as it was infuriating for my father: “Jaaasus Chrisht, will you leave that feckin’ thing down”.

I didn’t do goals either. Lump the ball high was my main objective. Take your points and the goals will come, regardless of the state of the galvanised roof when I was finished. The challenge to the roof was one thing – the series of grunted responses from my father in the neighbouring shed was another.

ADVERTISEMENT

Perhaps the greatest testimony to my speed as a youth was my ability to take off when my father realised I had broken most of the slates on the roof of the house (the mother wasn’t too impressed either to be fair). I was in the kitchen one day when I suddenly heard my father roar as a large number of broken slates landed down in front of the window. I didn’t wait around for fireworks. Pace is key in the GAA.

Farmyard training

I grew up in the Ciaran Mc Donald era, when outside of the left was all the rage. Where better than a farmyard to practise a skill like that? After a few years of practise you get quite handy at it. One February morning, with the GAA season up and running, I needed to perfect the outside left. This lead to something I will never forget and I very much doubt that my father will either.

I picked a target point about 30 metres down the yard. The intention was to bend the ball into an unused transport box that my mother had used to grow parsley and mint. The box was situated beside the door of the meal shed. Just as the ball left my wellie the door of the meal shed opened. Out came my father with two buckets of nuts. The trajectory of the ball was on course to meet perfectly with the side of my father’s face. My world stood still.

Pace and accuracy

As the ball travelled through the air, in what felt like slow motion, he bent to leave down the two buckets. The ball was no more than five feet away when he began to straighten up. Before he reached full height again, which felt like an eternity, the ball whisked just over his head and took his loosely fitting cap on the top of his head with it. The ould lad stood there in complete shock.

I casually walked down the yard as if nothing had happened, hoping the shock would diffuse the situation. As he looked at me in total horror, I put my hand on his shoulder and grinned. “You know what Dad, if I wasn’t up here practising this much that ball might have been five inches lower and I would have been peeling you off the wall.” He shook his head, “feed the sheep down the back field. You’re a feckin’ clown”.

It seems that pace and accuracy are key in GAA.

Behind this young footballer, there’s an angry father, shouting.

Ger Murphy is a 23 year old Arts student from Castlerea. A big passion for sheep and football he is the proud owner of a Roscommon u13 Division four title, and was also the water boy for the Roscommon minors