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I Blog, You Waffle, He Craves Attention… October 6, 2008

Posted by bazmcstay in Life.
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This is one small step for me and totally irrelevant in the greater scheme of mankind. Writing a blog gives one the sort of publicity which once was only afforded to those with a hotline to the TV, radio and newspaper editors. Now though, the magical Internet gives everyone the opportunity to be opinion columnists, to have their voices heard worldwide and, most bizarrely of all, to share their innermost thoughts, hopes, prayers and secrets, should they wish, with an international network of total strangers. It’s amazing to think, some day in the future, that the words of millions of us will remain preserved in electronic chips to be read and analysed whereas the letters and diaries of many of our ancestors have already been lost in the fires, floods and attics of time. Anyway, here it begins: My name is Barry McStay and this is My Blog.

Days You Never Forget June 12, 2009

Posted by bazmcstay in College, Life, Vlog.
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This videa of a compilation of clips from a barbeque hosted by my friend Brian’s father, Ray Martin (hence Ray-B-Que) – something of an annual event for my group of college mates. Yesterday we gathered to celebrate 4 years worth of friendship as many of us are now finished college and venturing into the adult world of employment – or unemployment, as the case may be for many of us Arts graduates. Days like yesterday become fewer and farther between as years pass and life gets busier and more unstoppable. It was a huge joy to stop for a few hours and spend time laughing and dancing and sharing life’s joys with some of my favourite people. Thank you to them and everyone else who has made my 4 years in college unforgettable. Hope the video makes some of you smile.

Britain’s Shame Is Mankind’s Shame June 10, 2009

Posted by bazmcstay in Human Nature, Latest News, Politics.
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The man in that video uttering those hateful words is Nick Griffin, leader of the British Nationalist Party. On Saturday night, he was elected as an MEP. I watched in absolute horror as he and another member of his racist band of violently right-wing bigots were given enough votes by the British public to go forward and represent that nation in the European Parliament. This vile creature has been given a legitimate political soapbox from which to speak for the next 5 years, his party’s profile and public funding will go through the roof and they will be in a position to spread their messages of evil to a wider audience.

These words I have used to describe Nick Griffin are the sort trotted out daily by The Sun and similar newspapers to describe every criminal that goes throught the justice system, but are as liberally applied to sports cheats. In the case of Nick Griffin, however, they are fully justified. It simply appals me to think that nearly 1million Britons voted for this man’s party and that people could listen to speeches like the one he made in the above video, like the ones he makes daily, and APPLAUD. There are those in Britain who AGREE with him, who voted for him, who think like him.

Now, the elections for Europe in Britain were, rather stupidly, mired in the MPs’ expenses scandal and proper European policy debate was lost in a welter of duck-houses and moats. The BNP ran a low-key campaign, reigning in some of their firebrands, keeping their message more akin to that of UKIP (another, slightly less hateful party) who spend most of their time complaining about those eternal scapegoats “European bureaucracy” and ” Faceless Brussels lawmakers”. They campaigned on petty local issues like potholes and bin collections. Devastatingly, people forgot that they were voting for a EUROPEAN candidate and, in the desire to vote against the major Westminster parties, far too many forgot the difference between a protest vote and voting for bigots and racists.

The rhetoric of Griffin’s speech above is chilling, with the resonating “THEY” used over and over again to describe black people, and a picture is painted of blacks as an under-race to be kept down. His condemnation of black brotherhood is awfully hypocritical given his essentialist view of Britain. He fires accusation after accusation at Barack Obama, couching them in “probably” to save himself from slander issues. He points to Obama’s “probable” anti-semitism and he has claimed not to be anti-semitic himself, despite his repeated denial of the Holocaust in the late 90s.

Nick Griffin has blamed “immigrants”, and especially the Muslim minorities, for causing Britain’s inner city drug problems. He sees gangland issues as black-centric, with black gangs attacking white people which lead to white gangs being formed to protect themselves. He sees no reason to institute anti-racist laws. He would close the borders of Britain to any migrants from Europe or farther afield and would “send home” all those who were not, in his eyes, “real Britons”. He preys on the poorer members of British society, blaming those of different colour skin or language for their plight, pulling them around the simplistic emblem of “BRITAIN”, something which they should protect from invaders.

It is scaremongering. It is the age-old tactic of the great dictators. Griffin has been dubbed “Fat Hitler” by some unflattering souls, but then again this is a man who is scarcely deserving of flattery. Some bemoan the fact that he has been given the oxygen of publicity – I’m not thrilled he has been given the oxygen of oxygen, truth be told, and those are words I would be loath to use of anyone. But those is a truly loathsome man. The horrifying thing is that there are those who support him. It made me cry to think of this as I watched this beaming lizard wave from his platform in Manchester.

In the same year as Barack Obama became President of the United States and it seemed that perhaps mankind had finally reached some sense of closure with its past differences, the BNP garnered 1million votes. 65 years after D-Day, when Europe seemed ready to unite under a banner of peace, 20 years after the Berlin Wall fell and borders were opened, now people seem more keen than ever to dismiss the European ideal and to turn inwards. Sure, it is a fairly natural reaction to be protective of ones heritage and no one in Ireland wants to hand away their Irishness, whatever that really is, but for people to fall time and again for worn-out words of bureaucracy, red-tape, faceless legislators, immigrants, THEY, it utterly depresses me.

We live in a time of supposed open-mindedness and open-heartedness. We should embrace difference, share our culture as we cling to it and sample other cultures as they sample ours. Our modern world is a melting-pot, full of what Gerard Manley Hopkins called “the grandeur of God” - whether you believe in God or not, the world certainly is grand. Or so I thought. It would appear that the hatred and elitism which humanity hoped to leave behind itself at the end of World War II still remains. Perhaps elitism, racism, the desire for national ideals (for that is where the term Nazi came from) are an ingrained human condition. I would hope, as I’m sure the majority of you do, that this is not the case. But while there are Nick Griffins and the BNP in this world, I’m not so sure.

Hatred breeds hatred. That is what Nick Griffin and his cohorts will continue to do unless people stand up and denounce them eloquently and effectively. Do not ignore the mistake you have made, Britain, but rectify it. Sadly, we have to wait 5 years to get these monsters out of office. By that time, who knows how many they will have recruited to their despicable cause. The fact that this cause still exists – and exists in other countries across Europe too – makes me weep for mankind’s inability to love one another. I mean that.

Sketchy Characters June 7, 2009

Posted by bazmcstay in Comedy, Life.
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Not content with merely telling you what I do in my own life, I’ve now decided to try and tell you about what imaginary Barry gets up to. Yes, that’s right. I’m doing comedy sketches now. Oh God, when will it end?! Well, here’s where it starts anyway. I’m calling the series “Sketchy Characters” and this is the first video. Hopefully you’ll like it. If you do, spread the word. If you don’t, spread the word nonetheless against your better judgement. They’re all going to be posted to my youtube: http://www.youtube.com/user/bazmcstay

New Vlog Post: The Teenager June 4, 2009

Posted by bazmcstay in Arts, College, Ireland, Latest News, Vlog.
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Posted a new video blog on my Youtube channel: http://www.youtube.com/user/bazmcstay - which includes this poem below. You’ll notice the better quality. Visual and audio, not poetic quality. Thankfully, with my 24th birthday having recently passed on May 25th, I was able to invest in a brand spanking new Sony Handicam. My natural technophobia saw me hovering at the window of the shop for a good ten minutes before I plucked up the courage to take the plunge and buy it. It’s a great purchase however – from my point of view anyway, though you may protest at having further vloggery inflicted upon you. Shout out to Stephen Byrne (http://www.youtube.com/user/3sixty5days), who got me into this vlog business, and a major cyber-hug for him and his fellow-Leaving Cert victims who all had their English Paper 2 postponed from Thursday until Saturday, thanks to someone in a school in Drogheda handing out that instead of Paper 1 this morning. Maybe Bob Quick has found a new job - he’s that police chief from Britain who was snapped on camera carrying those confidential files into Number 10. Try having a go at being a dustman, Bob, you’ll find no one is interested in what you’re carrying around in that job!

Anyway, final exam approacheth on Friday. Wish me luck and hope you like the poem.

The Teenager

Surviving on one triangular meal a day

and the stress-free strains of candy-floss music,

the angry teenager is all lazy eyes,

a floating head trailing his neck behind him.

He’s nothing but wrong angles and skinny bones

and proceeding hairlines betray growing cracks

and it always pains him to say anything

but especially anything loud and clear.

Fuck knows, he’ll swear at anything but to nothing

and let you no farther than pockmarked-skin-deep.

He hides in a hoodie in a corner,

looks for a bolt-hole in his Nokia

and duck-dives beneath the waves of the iPod

but each eye that grazes him draws young blood,

sketching out in bright red lines like tube maps

the veins and arteries of a beating life.

He wears a faceful of macho make-up

but pens pretty poetry in the dark

in between wet dreams and dry, droughty spells.

He keeps the water-taps shut tight in public

but draws from the well and spills many a bucket

when the drop of a ball is the end of the world.

He can’t get away from huggy mummy and daddy

and he hates them for it, but when he cuts loose

he drops crumbs of homemade scones as he goes,

sprays his eyes over the forest floor for raisons.

He’ll do plenty of ageing during those teens –

like the name suggests, he’s always on the move –

and the pressure is there right from the word grow:

the world pushes in on his skull like a finger

pressing into marshmallow, puffs back out,

full of sugary notions and impressions.

He never fails to bounce back, rubber ball,

spring-loaded, always ill but best equipped,

never hitting bottom but always falling.

Vlogging June 1, 2009

Posted by bazmcstay in Life.
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I’m on Youtube! And feel so hi-tech. Despit the poor quality of the camera and microphone in my computer, I uploaded my first ever video blog entry today – check out http://www.youtube.com/user/bazmcstay - it’s not the most illuminating piece of video ever, more a hello, but I hope it’s the first of many. I intend to buy a proper camera in the not-too-distant future. So, you’ll now be able to HEAR me as well as read my words. How lucky are you? Not very, you say? Oh, well I’ll have to work for your affections.

I Was There May 24, 2009

Posted by bazmcstay in Personal Favourites, Rugby.
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Murrayfield, Edinburgh, 23rd May 2009. I was there. Along with a massive army of blue-clad fans, I was privileged to witness Leinster finally fulfill their potential and cap this glorious season for Irish rugby. Having been frustrated by the inconsistencies and heartbreaks of the last 10 years, it was an unbelievable rush and release to be there when it all came together.

But let’s start at the very beginning. I actually had an exam yesterday morning (my third of four final, Postcolonialism and Irish Studies, if you’re interested), 9:30-12:30. My flight to Edinburgh left Dublin Airport at 12:45. You do the math. The added difficulty was that, technically, you’re not supposed to leave the exam after 12, which meant a serious dash to get my three essays written in time. Thankfully, the chief invigilator (which sounds like it should be a villain in a Dan Brown book) was an understanding Ulster fan who waived the rules and let me sneak out at 12.05.

My taxi driver earned his tip, as I was at the airport by 12.25. My dad had been in touch with the DAA and, get this, I came through the VIP suite to speed up my chances of boarding the flight. I felt pretty damn cool being whished through a private check-in area, driven across the tarmac in a Merc and escorted to the top of the queue. It was all pretty posh but, ultimately, unnecessary. I was in my seat before my dad. Never mind.

So, to Scotland. We arrived at the stadium an hour before kickoff. Murrayfield is an impressive structure despite being topped with a curious mish-mash of iron twigs. There’s something exhilarating about entering a mostly-empty stadium which makes you take a deep breath as you do a full, 360 degree scan of the place. Like scanning a battlefield before the cry of charge rings out. Watching the place fill, it became obvious that the Leinster fanbase is growing. Walking through the streets to the stadium, the Leinster supporters clearly outnumbered the Leicester group by two or three to one. We were a rare breed ten years, even five years ago; now I’m not such an exclusive creature – we’re doing our best to catch Munster! In terms of fans and trophies.

Yes, trophies. That big, shiny, beautiful hunk of metal at the end of this European rainbow was well worth waiting for. I even got to touch the thing as Shane Horgan carried it through the mass of fans in the airport. The whole team passed through the departure lounge which was packed with singing and chanting happy Bluemen, signed autographs, did photos, beaming from ear to ear. A tremendous bond has started to develop between this team and their people. The travelling support has been superb and the RDS has become a fantastic venue full of fantastic fans. Munster have been able to beat Leinster with two sticks of underachievement and underwhelming support for many years, but the times, they are a-changing.

I have a seriously raw throat today after screaming and shouting all through the game yesterday. I’m not going to dissect the intricacies of the match, save to point out some obvious points. Leinster were by far the better team, with more chances and points before Stan Wright’s sinbinning. They conceded ten points while down to fourteen men, but did not allow Leicester a score for the final 37 minutes of the game. Leinster also played a very smart kicking game, chose their moments well and displayed great control and composure in the final 10 minutes to close out the win after Jonathan Sexton’s winning kick. Sexton deserves huge credit for controlling the game and contributing some stunning scores in the manner of a seasoned pro. It is sad to see Dr. Phil leave, but his young apprentice looks ready to fill his big boots.

It would be equally sad to see Rocky go. What a man. In the manner of Liverpool’s Gerrard-Torres axis, Elsom and O’Driscoll have invigorated this Leinster side beyond any previous level, especially since Christmas. They have been simply inspirational. Michael Cheika seems confident he can keep Rocky north of the equator. If he does leave, he will have left the proverbial indelible mark on Leinster rugby. As for O’Driscoll, it is as if he has decided that the stars are alligned and that he will fill in those blanks on his CV this season: Triple Crown, 6 Nations, Grand Slam, Heineken Cup. Top try scorer in the Championship and its player of the season. A winning Lions tour would be the icing on the cake. A Churchill Cup win would be a nice bonus too – Ireland has pretty much every other rugby trophy there is going right now!

Anyway, it didn’t matter that the flight home was delayed by an hour. It didn’t matter that I was shattered tired today. Hearing the stewardess congratulate us on “our win”, being congratulated by the passenger beside me on being a European Champion, the headlines in the Sunday papers, touching that trophy, getting Michael Cheika’s autograph, the signature of the man who has rebuilt Leinster in the last four years, roaring my guts out as the final whistle went…those will live with me forever.

This little piece will not read as a work of literary greatness, or as incisive sports journalism, or as a brilliantly constructed personal account. It’s a bit of a mish-mash, like the Murrayfield metalwork. But it’s hard to express yourself when you are on such a high, when your head is still spinning and when you can still hear the chants of “Lein-ster” and the strains of “Molly Malone”. It’s hard to believe, but Leinster beat Harlequins, Munster and Leicester to get here. They possess possibly the two greatest individuals in the competition. They deserve this win. We deserve it, the fans who’ve put up with the taunting and the topsy-turvy past. And Ireland deserves it too. With so many bad-news stories, sport is what we turn to for our joys. Yesterday was a joy and it was great to spend it witnessing a great team secure a great victory with my dad, who once had a trial for Leinster back in his college days. Yes indeed, yesterday was one of the best days of my life.

Where am I…? May 21, 2009

Posted by bazmcstay in College, Rugby.
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Just to inform any visitors to my wee blog, I’m out of the loop for the moment as I’m in the middle of my final exams in college. First two are done with and have gone ok. My next is on Saturday – finishing at 12:30pm, with me booked on a flight at 12:45 to Edinburgh in the vain hope of beating traffic and a big enough delay to get me to see Leinster in the Heineken Cup Final. Wish me luck in the exam, but more importantly, that I might be there to see the match! I’ll be back and blogging soon. In the meantime, thanks for visiting and enjoy your stay!

The Goddamned Jay Brannan May 7, 2009

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On Sunday evening I read an interview in the Tribune with a young singer-songwriter who I had never heard of called Jay Brannan. The interview conveyed someone with a complex backstory, a quirky sense of humour and an off-beat view of the world and what music should say and do. Curious, I Youtubed him, as you do these days. What you come across are videos of some extraordinarily beautiful songs, unconventional in music, lyric and execution certainly, but nevertheless deeply touching. That’s a word, touching, which gets flung about a bit too easily but in the case of Jay Brannan, it fits perfectly. The gay son of a conservative Baptist Texas family refuses to fit any mould other than his own.

So, having spent a good hour initiating myself in the music, I thought “To hell with it, let’s go see him” – he was to play at Crawdaddy on Wednesday May 6th, so no time like the present. Onto Ticketmaster, buy a ticket for a mere €12 and wait.

Tonight rolled along and I took myself to the Pod. I won’t lie: Despite Brannan’s clearly-stated desire not to become known as “the gay singer”, the patrons tonight were mostly male and wearing skinny jeans. The guy is good-looking and talented, it’s no wonder he attracts that attention. But when he came out, cracked his wry smile with some easy irony and started his set, it was hard to NOT fall in love with Jay.

The songs move between extremes of pathos and sardonic humour. He isn’t afraid to mix the deepest emotion with the plainest of language, as one shouldn’t be. His lyrics are clever, stilted eyeglasses which give a new, strange and vivid view of their subject, from love to hate, from bombs to blowjobs. He is entirely self-taught, a fact which explains his music’s roughness around the edges, but there is inherent sense and sensitivity in his chords and riffs, while rough is certainly not a word you would use to describe his voice. It is like listening to silk flow across teflon, as pure and untarnished as you could wish for. It’s not just a voice to die for, but one you could die listening to.

Flicking between self-deprecating and sincere, asking if “Dolores O’Riordan and Sinéad” have shown up, bemoaning Ryanair’s desire to charge him for his CDs and begging us to buy them if only to save on costs, flashing quick smiles or sharp barbs at audience members, it’s as though Brannan is addressing a close friend, half-starting a song before being distracted by a thought. Charismatic is the word – he could bottle and sell the stuff. He’s not afraid to speak his mind – that’s the nature of his work. And although I was at the gig alone, it certainly didn’t feel like it, as Jay drew me in, engaged me, told me his stories and, in doing so, asked me for mine.

That’s what the word “touching” means – that what you witness tells you something and demands a response. It answers your questions and asks questions of you too. Brannan is happy to joke and present a devil-may-care side, but in his songs he blends that with truth, sincerity and depth. It’s not just what he tells, it’s how he tells it. This guy should go far – his cover of Bob Dylan’s “Blowing In The Wind”, a capella except for an African kashaka (a percussion instrument which, as Brannan points out, resembles anal beads), was brilliant, piercing, soaring. But his own songs, of which “Soda Shop”, “Housewife” and “Can’t Have It All” are just some of my favourites, are works of art in their own right. I felt it only proper to spread the word. In a couple years time, I’m sure I won’t be able to get a parking spot NEAR wherever Brannan is playing for €12, but I’ll always be able to say I saw him way-back-when. This was his second time playing in Dublin. Hopefully it won’t be the last. I wish this talented artist every success in what he does and where his life leads because he deserves it.

For more on Jay, go to http://jaybrannan.com/ . Check him out on Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/user/jaybrannan or buy his album, “Goddamned” on iTunes – it’s excellent, trust me. He’s also on Twitter: http://twitter.com/jaybrannan and on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=88498428544&ref=mf#/pages/Jay-Brannan/6625639185?sid=2b785b44b4e34767e1677fd3a8c2a5ec&ref=search .

Leinster Reach New Heights May 3, 2009

Posted by bazmcstay in Ireland, Rugby.
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Oh now, today was some day.

It’s not easy to put into words the sense of occasion which was thick in the air at Croke Park on May 2nd 2009. Right from the moment I left my house and boarded a heaving Luas at 2:30pm in the afternoon to the final whistle and subsequent gracious wishes of good luck from many a deflated Munster fan, it was always going to be a special day. An Irish team was guaranteed to reach the Heineken Cup Final; a world record for attendance at a rugby union club match was about to be set; the sun was beaming down; the banter was brisk along Jones’ Road; the talk of revenge for 2006 and two drubbings this season was the spur for Leinster; the defence of their hard-won crown egged Munster on. Before this game began, there was so much to hint at a glorious encounter.

If the early 90s saw Jackie’s army conquer the world in terms of support if not actual silverware, the Golden Generation have certainly made the naughties their own, pocketing trophy after trophy and finally delivering on the years of unfulfilled promise with a Grand Slam this year. We have already been spoilt this year with that historic victory over Wales, but then Munster kept the Magner’s League “in the family” last weekend so the crowd which descended on Croker today were hungry for another display of Irish rugby’s rude health. And boy, did they get it.

The first manifestation came off the pitch. The IRFU outdid themselves with the arrangement of the ticket allocations, the banks of fans arranged in a patchwork around the stands - red, blue, red, blue. It was as dramatic a sight as one could imagine. The stadium was awash with the two colours and with little to no interloping – it seems that Leinster fans have learnt their lesson and tickets will never be allowed to slither south again as happened so dramatically in 2006.

Entering Lansdowne Road’s North Terrace that day, I was blown away by the red invasion, an obvious portent of things to come. Since then, however, Leinster’s season ticket ranks have trebled and the support at matches has become more vocal, more passionate, more (dare I say) Munster-like. I had the pleasure to be part of the small band – about 2,500 – who travelled to Twickenhem Stoop for the gritty win over Harlequins 3 weeks ago and the Leinster travelling support was nothing short of magnificent, singing non-stop, standing for the entire game, drowning out the home support 4 times greater in number. It was as passionate as the team’s defence that day and it was clear that that defence would be necessary again today if Leinster were to overcome the odds against the heavy favourites. However, their 16th man was not going to be found wanting.

10 minutes before kick-off, there were no streams of people coming in through the entrance-ways: The stadium was already full. The roars, the flags waving, the march of the drummers and brass players towards each other – every little detail built up the pre-match atmosphere to an incredible high. We Irish love our sport and we love our all-Irish, inter-parish rivalry more than most. This was it – Dublin v Kerry, Cork v Kilkenny, the arch-nemeses facing up to each other with scores to settle.

But enough preamble. What happened?

Leinster 25 - 6 Munster

Wow.

Now, I did not see that coming. No one did. Not even Michael Cheika’s most orgiastic of wet-dreams could have sprung this fantasy. Not even the most die-hard of Leinster fans – and those who thought that they could even win were few and far between, many dreading another Munster steamrolling – could have envisaged a display like today’s.

This was one of those matches which simply pulsated from start to finish, dragged every watching soul around in the mud behind it, shoved their heads underwater for unfeasibly long periods of times and flung them, gasping for air, miles skyward with no inkling of when they might land. There was the underlying edge, the extra intensity local rivals feel when pitted together. There was the O’Connell over O’Driscoll Lions captaincy call. There was the memories of the clash at Lansdowne Road. The context was matched by an awesome game, full of hard running, hard tackling, hard yards and hard luck.

The scoreline is misleading. Munster battered at Leinster’s defensive line all day, dominating the lineout, retaining possession like a sponge retains water, recycling and recycling like a crazed Green Party member. The offloading, the pick-and-go, the abrasive backline – Munster at their aggressive best were certainly there. The thing is, the unstoppable force met an immovable object in the Leinster team. The defence against Harelquins in that second half, as wave after wave of attack was weathered, was surpassed in this performance. The entire team made itself felt. There were superb try-saving scrags by Luke Fitzgerald and the man-of-the-match (although officially it was O’Driscoll, I don’t know that anyone would argue against this) Rocky Elsom. Gordon Darcy was out to prove a point to the Lions selectors and certainly delivered his best game in 2 years. Chris Whittaker and Felipe Contempomi, before his sad exit, controlled the game and were unforgiving in defence. Jennings, Heaslip, O’Kelly, even Stan The Man delivered his finest display in the blue.

Brian O’Driscoll was, of course, at his peak. The man is, without doubt, a rugby legend. Two years ago he was being written off – no pace, missing tackles, poor kicking, blah blah blah. Over the hill, they said.

Well, what do they know? Sweet F. All it would appear. Paul O’Connell might be the Lions Captain, and maybe deservedly, but come the IRB Player Of The Year Award, I would be handing the trophy to O’Driscoll right now. He has been simply superhuman this year. He is as wily as he ever was – think of his line-breaking try against France, his chip, chase, gather and near-try against Harlequins, his brilliant pass to Nacewa to set up Darcy’s first try. He is the hardest tackling, hardest rucking back in world rugby bar none, worth two number sevens. He has lost some of the extra muscle which he never needed in the first place and burst away from the entire Munster team to score Leinster’s third try today. He is a Grand Slam winning captain, an exceptional captain and, should he cap his list of honours with a Heineken Cup and a Lions Tour win, he will be safely enrolled as Ireland’s greatest ever player. He is already Leinster’s. God Bless BOD.

Leinster scored two excellently-worked tries apart from Briano’s breakaway, the backline rediscovering its seemingly misplaced spark, and credit to Alan Gaffney. Munster’s backline is, without question, far better than it was in 2006, and Keith Earls and Doug Howlett always threatened, but Lifemi Mafi did Leinster a bit of a favour with his incorrigible tendency to step back inside today. Facing a midfield of Gordon Darcy and Brian O’Driscoll, Mafi thought his best bet was to continually charge at them. Grist to the mill, Lifemi.

The battle of the outhalves didn’t materialise as people had expected with Dr. Phil leaving the field after he contributed one peach of a drog-goal. Instead, it was left to his replacement, Jonathan Sexton, a player who has occasionally flattered to deceive, to give the performance of a lifetime. Jonno was excellent, directing the game like O’Gara himself, kicking well, passing swiftly, making good, clear calls. We may at last have a successor to the Irish number 10 shirt. O’Gara was quite muted all day, bearing the brunt of several attacks down his channel and hustled all day by Shane Jennings. 

Back in November, when Munster humbled Leinster at the RDS 18-0, I told Brian Roche, a Munster friend of mine, that I fel that the result would have been the exact opposite had Leinster had O’Gara. I simply didn’t feel the gap was that wide. A few weeks ago, Munster pasted Leinster, again without Leinster playing all that badly. There was still something missing. Today, finally, Les Bleux found it. I’m not going to say it was passion because, contrary to what many observers might say, I think this is a Leinster team which has had a drive about it for some time but not always the execution. Certainly, the defeat in Lansdowne in 2006 has been a catalyst for the new, improved Leinster.

No, what Leinster found today was something like the Cowardly Lion’s courage. They had it all along, they just needed to see that. The Munster Men have been at the top of the game in Ireland for so long. Leinster has been slow to grow, always that step behind. They needed to stop asking why this was so. They needed to stop questioning themselves. They needed to realise exactly how good they were – not in a self-congratulatory way, but as part of thinking and playing like winners. Winners – like Munster – don’t EXPECT victory. They demand it. It is not to be granted, it is to be grasped. Leinster, as players, are not inferior to Munster, but as a team in the past errors and inconsistencies have let them down. Today was a perfect 10 display. There could be hardly a fault picked out in Leinster, apart from some poor lineout work.

And what a great thing it is too. Munster have bred this monster which ate up their Heineken Cup hopes this year. Their success has demanded that Leinster raise their game. The Munster ethos which has permeated to the national team also bled into the Leinster psyche. Today was the denoument. There would be no point in Munster dominating Irish and European rugby – we NEED Leinster to emulate them. The path they have trampled down is the one which Leinster have taken. Success breeds success as they say, and often it is the success of your rivals which inspires ones own triumphs – look at the English teams in the Champions League since Liverpool’s win in 2005. Brian O’Driscoll, Girvan Dempsey, Shane Horgan and others must have been green-eyed as they witnessed Munster taking home two European Cups. That can only have been the basis for the drive in the Leinster team today.

There is nothing better than watching two teams play a great game of rugby. One thing which is better though is watching two teams play a great game of rugby in a great setting with two great sets of fans and one great rivalry behind it all. Ireland should be so proud of its rugby players. The whole country has suffered the highs and lows with Munster, loving their passion and prowess unconditionally. Today, we saw first-hand the fruits this love has borne – a second, great rugby team which, with the sort of will and vigour and great skill we saw today, is worthy of such love too. It will be a love hard-earned but much deserved – Munster had to endure 2 lost finals, Leinster finally won a semi-final today at the fourth time of asking. And what a great feeling it would be for Munster’s crown to pass to the heads of Leinster on May 23rd. It would be hard to top today, but that might just do it.

Pity The Fools April 30, 2009

Posted by bazmcstay in Human Nature, Life.
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I’ve been feeling pretty rotten over the last five days – all together: Awww. I’ve been topping up on Lemsip and Uniflu, Strepsils and Vitamin C tabs, all to very little avail as it happesn. I’m still spluttering, still have a throat like sandpaper and still feel knackered and whacked out come 8:30pm or so. Then, of course, there are those who are facing the more dangerous swine flu, thus causing my encounter with man flu to pale into insignificance. And while I can mope about, feeling miserable, staring at the snooker on BBC and wondering whether there are any episodes of “Murder, She Wrote” coming on soon, there is the very real threat of a global pandemic. Everyone knows that international travel has led to world shrinkage and that this has made that threat all the more potent. But right now, in this time of Earthwide crisis, RTE’s website felt it necessary to tell us all the astonishing news that MR T WAS CALLED FOR JURY DUTY IN CHICAGO!!! (See link below)

http://www.rte.ie/arts/2009/0429/mrt.html

Yes, you heard me. Mr T, star of “Rocky” and “The A-Team” ,who is well-known for his reluctance to board aircraft and his compassion towards idiots, was called to do his civic duty and this was deemed newsworthy. This really is one of my greatest pet hates: Trivial stories about the banal, day-to-day things that everyone does, but which are driven by the media to a transcendental state when they are done by celebrities. Those “Spotted” columns which the red-tops churn out, telling us where Graham Norton is shopping this week, what park Roy Keane is walking his dog in and what fish-and-chip shop Kevin Spacey is frequenting, seem little more than pathetic pages of detritus, sops to the celebrity culture.

There’s a “Scrap Saturday” line in which PJ Mara assures The Boss, Charlie Haughey, that there is not a blade of grass in Ireland which can grow without him knowing. The constant feed of information about what “famous people” are up to is akin to this, a saturation coverage which, if we’re honest, is completely unnecessary. I don’t care whether Jake Gyllenhaal was seen picking his nose. I couldn’t give a damn if Jordan was seen wearing no make-up in her local McDonalds. I can’t imagine any situation where the contents of Rio Ferdinand’s shopping basket could possibly prove to be vital knowledge.

We live in a world where it is easier than ever to share personal information, through Facebook, Twitter, blogs etc. But it’s also a world where people feel it is permissable to exploit other’s personal information. I’m not going to hark back to the Jade Goody story, I’m not going to point to the death of Princess Diana, I’m not going to cite the innumerable kiss-and-tell stories which fill our newspapers, I’m not going to quote the cases of blackmail and bribery such as that of a royal family member a couple of years ago. I don’t have to.

The fact is that, if anyone looks objectively at our media, our Heat Magazine world, the truth is evident. We are a society obsessed with recognisable faces, with fame and renown. We allow the media to exploit these people and to exploit us too. It’s just stupid. It’s all about money, keeping a name in the news – witness the drip-feeding of Amy Winehouse’s name into every paper, every day, last year -, selling newspapers, spreading the myth that being recognisable is a demonstration of success.

It’s time to say “Stop. Enough is enough.” The madness must end. The piranha-esque feeding-frenzy is over. In Obama-like succinctness, let us shout out loud: “We Don’t Care!”