Regular readers of this column will be aware that An Moltóir is something of a hurling fanatic. However, soccer is also part of his cultural heritage…

In the part of Ireland where he grew up, these were the two games that were played in the village. Gaelic football was a crude confection that they played out in the country, the skills and subleties of hurling and soccer clearly being too much for the people out there. Of course, in those days of the infamous Ban on 'foreign' games, this juxtaposition of the two games was the occasion of some conflict (of which An Moltóir himself was an occasional victim). Certainly, the ban denied the village hurling team of several good players (and perhaps a county title or two). In hindsight, it probably would have made an interesting sociological analysis to study the people who opted to play soccer. For many, it certainly was a badge of resistance against the establishment, represented by the GAA,the church and the schoolteachers. More interestingly, it included the unemployed,unskilled labourers, and the odd bank official and professional person.

So what's the point of these musings, sez you. Well, it's by way of telling you that this column is coming to you from the Broadband Cafe in Kiba, Tokyo, Japan (where you can get 30 minutes on the Internet and a grand cup of coffee for less than three Euros). Yes, An Moltóir answered the call of his inner self and joined Mick McCarthy's travelling army of foot soldiers (well, actually, the call came from a friend who had a spare place in a group he was organising). And it must be admitted that the atmosphere at the game against Germany on Wednesday was almost as good as a Munster final (and it was great to hear Amhrán na bhFiann being sung with both gusto and reverence right to the end before the cheering broke out).

The Japanese are a lovely people, and you can set your watch by the train schedule. And it's not that expensive if you go to the myriad of local noodles cafes for a few pints. The only major drawback is that the few so-called Irish pubs that An Moltoir has come across don't provide broadcasts of GAA matches back home (some of them didn't seem to know what the GAA meant). So An Moltóir has had to rely on the internet for reports of the games back home. The outcome, dear reader, is that there will be no analyses from this source of the Tipp-Limerick game, nor of next Sunday's double-header in Thurles. Indeed, should Ireland go all the way to the World Cup final, this will also put coverage of the Munster final in jeopardy!

Justin McCarthy's Book
One pleasant by-product of the long flight to Japan was the opportunity it provided to read "Hooked", Justin McCarthy's appropriately-titled life story. This is the latest in a series of such books by leading GAA figures. While Ger Loughnane's is mainly about Clare, and Mick McNamara's is mainly about Mick McNamara, McCarthy's book is mainly a celebration of the game of hurling.

Certainly, there is a poigant personal story here of a wonderful hurler who probably would have garnered a pocket-full of All-Ireland medals had he not been cut down by a tragic accident on the eve of the 1969 All-Ireland final, but who fought back against the odds to continue to play competitive hurling into his mid-40s. But the real heroes of the book at the people from all over the country whose love of hurling and the desire to keep it going caused them to look to McCarthy for coaching assistance. There are great stories in particular of McCarthy's involvement with Antrim and Cashel King Cormacs. But what also shines through in this book is the importance of the game in the smallest junior club, and how the excitment and celebration attending victory in the Junior B county championship can match anything engendered by All-Ireland senior victory.

Of course, the book does contain a lot of self-justification. And by the sounds of it, Justin McCarthy has a lot to feel righteous about. By remaining with his local club, Passage, not only did he never come near winning a Cork senior title, but he was destined to be an eternal "outsider" in Cork hurling circles (when it was virtually the norm for top hurlers from marginal clubs in and around Cork city to join one of the big three - The Glen, The Rockies and The Barrs). And, of course, he committed the mortal sin of crossing Frank Murphy (which, in An Moltóir's view, meant that he had to be doing something right). His condemnation of the inane priorities of the mandarins in Croke Park is spot-on.

An Moltóir has frequently heard it said that McCarthy is a cold type who is unable to create a good bond with players he is coaching. In the book, McCarthy makes it plain that this is a deliberate policy on his part, as it can be difficult to make hard decisions if one is too personally close to players.

An Moltóir also wonders if publishing the book at this stage was a little premature, given that McCarthy has just taken over as coach of Waterford. Should he manage to bring those perennial losers into the winners' enclosure, it surely would have made a grand finale to a fascinating book.