Sometimes Ireland Made Me Want to Hurl

Last week we had the opportunity to go to a hurling match. It was the All-Ireland Semifinals in Dublin, with Galway up against the favored Limerick. We had been staying in Galway, where people we met at a pub told us all about hurling. From the moment we decided to go to the match, all we had to do was bring it up with anyone we encountered. No further icebreakers necessary. We would hear their opinions about the game, about the team, about their fellow Irish as well as a number of opinions about other sports or countries that are less superior.

What is hurling, you ask? We had no idea.

So. Picture thirteen people from each side (at least by my count) running around on a pitch that is larger than an American football field. They each have a helmet and a hurling stick. Imagine a giant wooden spoon, and you sort of have a hurling stick. They use the stick to keep a very heavy tennis ball in motion by bouncing it, hitting it, scooping it off the field or carrying the ball on the stick. They can also throw the ball with their hands sometimes, but I don’t quite get why or when that is allowed. See Brian for details.

The goal is to hit the ball across the goal posts. They throw it up in the air themselves and whack it, sort of like when your dad batted a pop fly to you in your yard, except they hit it way, way, way farther. Meanwhile the other team does everything in its power to get hold of the ball or at least stop them from moving the ball down the pitch. It’s wild, piles of men on the field with hurling sticks flying everywhere. They only started wearing helmets about 10 years ago, and they still don’t wear any gloves. It has to be very painful. A bartender told us that if you look at the team photos of any local team, everyone is missing teeth or part of an ear or whatever until 10 years ago. “Now they’re all pretty boys,” he said.

When we got to Dublin, we ditched our rental car and started to follow the streams of people decked out in green and white (Limerick) or maroon and white (Galway). It was an all-ages crowd—very young kids all the way up to some very seasoned fans. We were surprised to learn that alcohol wasn’t allowed in the stands, as we half expected to have someone dump a pint on us somewhere along the way—it happens at Tigers games. One woman told us that the crowd polices itself on that, because they want to keep it fun and family-oriented. Everyone we talked to wanted to know who we would shout for. We decided on Galway, since we’d had such a good time in that town, and it’s fun to root for the underdog.

The thing is, in some ways they are all underdogs. None of the players get paid, they can only play for their own county’s team (no trading up), and the sport is a point of national pride. It’s a pretty good-natured competition—fans are mixed in the seats, yelling and waving flags but also chatting with the opponent’s fan sitting beside them. We happened to watch a very close match, so it was exciting. I’d go again anytime.

Hurling is one of Ireland’s Gaelic games, and all of the children start playing in the local Gaelic games club at a very young age. We were told that’s why Ireland doesn’t usually do well at the Olympics, because they are all training for hurling (or the female version, camogie).

Ireland is very proud of its history and traditions. They have been working hard over the last decades to bring back traditional Irish music. At two of our stops we found people of all ages playing instruments together and sometimes going silent so that someone in the crowd could sing a song a cappella.

At the same time, they have a sense of humor about it all. One man told us that the reason they have any humility is because the potato famine so decimated the country that they know they could be vulnerable to something new at any time. I’m not sure if that’s true, but given what we learned at different museums about the toll the famine took on the country, he might be right. A guy named Paul told us his thoughts on the difference between the English and the Irish (I think he borrowed this from an Irish comedian): The English like to go out and conquer lands. An Irishmen will quietly show up in a new land and before you know it, they’ll have 25 Irish living in one apartment there. He said they don’t so much invade as they infect. I’m only telling you what Paul said, don’t blame me.

We met Paul at The Crane Pub, where we went for music a couple of times. He told us about his three children. Two of them have names that I couldn’t quite hear or pronounce. He said that his wife named the first two. When the third was born, he told her he didn’t want some old word that means “a sparrow in a tree with a broken wing,” he wanted a name he could pronounce. So she is Ruth. He said the other two, who are in their 20s, are almost able to pronounce their own names now.

Paul was meeting up with three other men who have all lived a significant amount of time in the U.S. in their lives. While one married an American and currently lives in Massachusetts, the others all came back because as much as they enjoyed their time in the U.S., they love the slower pace and family-centered nature of their homeland. Another guy, Conor, had told us that he worked as a stonemason in Chicago for several years when he was younger, but was happy to return home as well. He thinks Americans age faster because of the stress of life, and possibly the weather extremes (he wasn’t a fan of Chicago’s cold winters and very hot summers).

Everywhere we’ve gone in Ireland we have run into kind, friendly, helpful people. Young people would see us looking at Google maps on our phone and ask us if we needed directions. I’m not sure if that’s because we seemed old and helpless or if they just do that. It’s a very easy place to visit. When another visitor parked their car illegally behind the driveway of our rental, blocking us in when we intended to drive along the coast for the day, two construction workers cheerily came over and ushered Brian as he backed out in a space that left about an inch on each side of the car. They were, perhaps, a bit overconfident, but they got him out!

The land is beautiful, the people are friendly, and the hurling match was fantastic. We felt completely at ease, far from home as we were. Anyone up for some hurling?