Once upon a time there was a great city, the capital city of its own fair land, recalls An Fear Rua...

The citizens of that city were fair interested in the sports and gaming of diverse kinds. Yea, even unto playing, not only their own native games, but even unto the games brought to their shores by the foreign invaders.

On the north side of that city, for many years, there were three great temples of sport - two for the game of the foreigner and one for the native games.

Now, it came to pass, that these two temples of the game of the foreigners became totally dilapidated and rundown. Those who ran them could not be trusted to organise a piss up in a mead brewery. In the end, games against other countries that played the foreigners' game had to be transferred to another temple of foreigners' games on the south side of the city. Yea, it too became dilapidated and run down and has to be knocked down and built again.

And it further came to pass, that one of the temples of the North side, by the name of the Mount of Daly, is now being sold for €80 million to a builder of dwellings and shops for artisans and the grass upon which the foreigners' game was played will be gone forever. (Indeed, the great Annals tell us that this is not the first time such a thing happened. Many years ago, another South side temple to the game of the foreigner, known as the Town of the Mill, was also sold to a builder of dwellings and the green sod didst disappear under a blanket of concrete).

Now, the scribes doth report that the remaining dilapidated temple of foreign games on the North side of the city, whereby the trilling river Tolka floweth, is to be sold to yet another builder of dwellings and shops for artisans for €40 million. Thus, again, no more will there be green sod and the playing of the game of the foreigner thereon. Certain scribes report that the outfit involved, the Tribe of Shels, did not even have enough money to pay the gladiators who play their foreing game as a job over the Christmas.

But, hold, within sight of these two vanishing temples the third temple - that of the game of the native - bloometh. It hath capacity for 83,000 citizens to view the games. It possesseth fantastic new stands and terraces, great facilities and new floodlighting. So much so, that even now, when overseas teams come to play the games of the foreigner against a team of the sity's citizenry, it is in this modern temple of sport they will played.

And the wise men and elders of the city pondered upon a riddle.

How is it that the temple of the games of the native - long derided by the supporters of the foreign games as a resort of 'bog men', 'culchies', 'eejits', 'bigots' - is now one of the leading temples of sport, not only in the city and country, but verily in the world? And the temples of the games of the foreigner are closing down all over the place, being sold to builders of dwellings and shops for artisans for huge sums of money that will benefit only a few?

A little girl, overhearing the agitated debates of the elders, said to her mother: 'Surely it is obvious Mummy? The citizens who ran the temple of the games of the native were good, hardworking, intelligent leaders who did it for the good of the people - for the players and the citizens who watch? And so, they put all their effort and money into making it a great place to play their games. But, those who ran the games of the foreigner, were incompetent leaders who worshipped not their games in truth, but rather Mammon ....'

'... the homelands of our fathers and the temples of our sires ...'
- Thomas Davis
Comment on this Article