Joe Brolly's riotous Sunday Independent column was centred on the need for inter-county players to enjoy a healthy, balanced lifestyle. The great man's column for Gaelic Life were always absurdly entertaining (he's still doing them, of course).
There, we learned about the Cavan man who belted out the national anthem as a prelude to sex and witnessed Kerry's bluntly pragmatic performance in the 2014 All-Ireland final being compared to the girl in the Exorcist who sprayed vomit out of her mouth at the speed of machine gun fire.
All the central elements of a classic Brolly column were in place yesterday.
- A delightfully funny but wholly tangential anecdote at the outset.
- Copious asterisks partially covering up a load of swear words.
- A gleeful jab at one of his favourite targets (in this case, Donal Óg Cusack).
- A misty-eyed reference to the Derry team of the mid-1990s in which he makes clear that these boys had the right idea.
- And, most of all, a thorough disdain for what modern inter-county Gaelic football has become.
Brolly thinks the lifestyle foisted on a minority of elite players, by 'out-of-control managers and permitted by docile county boards' is counter-productive.
The point is that this ultra-monastic lifestyle is not only unnecessary, it is counter-productive. Too much pressure. Too much boredom. Too damaging an impact on the healthy development of our young men.
He is particularly irked by the performance of the players in the media. They give ludicrously diplomatic pre- and post-match interviews, and a fair portion of their tweets consist of giving thanks to their sponsors for the latest goodies sent their way.
He finished by urging inter-county players to ignore the strictures of modern managers. His advice, given in a series of short staccato sentences, could be read out accompanied by Iggy Pop's 'Lust for Life'.
Players need their lives back. Have a drink in moderation. Sometimes not in moderation at all. Go to the pictures. Socialise with friends. Train less. Live more. Buy some chicken for f*** sake. Say real things.
Read the column.
