by
Norman Freeman
‘He hates Galway more than he loves Tipperary.’
What’s wrong with this man? Do you know somebody like him? He’s the man who loves to hate. And his dislike is directed not just at a rival team but its management team and followers as well.

His team, Tipperary, is playing Galway. He does not so much want Tipperary to win as Galway to lose. No matter if the game is completely one-sided, just as long as Galway is beaten out the gate.

As this middle-aged man makes his way towards the field of play his puffy, yellowish face is bright with vindictiveness. He goes through the turnstiles with a tight malevolent smile. When he takes his seat he looks about with a hard, unforgiving grin.

Where did he get this deep visceral loathing of Galway, its team and its supporters? Apparently the vengeful seeds were sown in the 1980’s. Tipperary’s return to the higher echelons of hurling after many years of disappointment coincided with the dominance of a strong, well-seasoned Galway team.

A hard-faced rivalry developed between the sides. There were some tough and rough battles between them, at All Ireland final, semi-final and National League final levels. Tipp’s road to dominance was baulked by Galway on several occasions.

For a few Tipperary followers, and certainly for this lumpy-faced fellow, it sowed the seeds of a deep dislike of Galway teams and indeed Galway followers. Listen to him talk about his ideal game.

‘Tipp are playing Galway. Going into the final minutes Galway are two points ahead and, on the run of play, deserve to be in the lead. Then in the very last minute Tipp are awarded a penalty. It’s a very controversial decision – most spectators and commentators are sure it should never have been awarded. A Tipperary forward comes up and belts it. It hits the goalkeeper’s stick and is saved.

The Galway crowd give a great roar. Many of them start whistling for full time. But the referee says that a Galway player was too near the penalty-taker and the penalty has to be taken again. The Galway players are going mad. So mad that they’re too distracted when the penalty is again taken. This time it is almost saved again but it goes into the net off the foot of one of the backs. When the goalkeeper pucks out the ball, the referee blows the whistle for full time.’

This is the kind of game that would give the Galway Hater most satisfaction. As the Galway players and mentors crowd round the referee to protest, our man is grinning from ear to ear. He edges towards some Galway supporters in the stand and stands beside them listening with delight to their expressions of anger and dismay. On the way out of the stadium his ears are wide open to catch the anguish of the Galway crowd. He listens and nods with pleasure.

He may even go into a crowded pub and push his way towards a crowd of thirsty and disappointed Galway followers. Even if, with the aid of alcohol, they are getting over the trauma of undeserved defeat, he will stoke the fire, saying things like, ‘Ye were badly cheated today,’ or ‘The referee did ye out of it.’ This renews the torrent of indignation and frustration among the western followers. As they curse their luck and the referee, the Great Hater enjoys the expletives and the anger.

He drives back the eighty kilometres home, singing to himself as well as putting on his CD ‘Songs of Tipperary.’ When he goes in the door his wife doesn’t even have to ask him if he enjoyed his day out. He watches ‘The Sunday Game’ revelling in the discussion about the legitimacy of the penalty and the retaking that cost Galway the game. He goes to sleep that night with the happy smile of a child who has stuffed himself to the gills with buns and sweets.

Next day, he buys the three broadsheet newspapers and muses contentedly over the reports and commentaries, all of which are convinced that Galway were hard done by and deserved to win.

Yet this man has a very responsible job in the Civil Service. He has an unparalleled reputation for hard work, fairness and conscientiousness. He is good and kind to his family and his friends.

What can we make of him? The eminent Viennese psychoanalyst, Dr Ludwig Winklemann, in one of his most celebrated books, said we should accept that hatred is among the spectrum of emotions within every human being.

‘We just have to learn to handle this powerful force. It is not necessarily harmful to the individual, provided it is channelled carefully out of the system’, he writes. ‘We are all subject to hating impulses (spontan verhasst handeln) but we must find outlets to allow them pour out of the psyche. It is better to hate a politician, a TV personality, an opposing team or even the postman rather than to hate those we are meant to love as well as those we work with,’ he says.

Dr Winklemann would surely love to meet our Galway Hater and to have him recline on the couch in his clinic to discuss his condition. Perhaps the Galway Supporters Club could raise some money to help send him to Vienna?