PREMIER STORIES: The making of a Tipperary hurling star

In the Watery Mall, when Tipperary prepare to take the field in an inter-county encounter the fever and the sweat and commotion that builds up in the area a week before the game is akin to the lads of the Curragh Command preparing for an invasion from Mars at a minute’s notice.

All earthly matters are inconsequential now; the game’s the thing.

For at least a week in advance, the boys of the old brigade in Thurles and district (in another country, they would have won Purple Hearts for devotion above and beyond the call of duty), discuss the game in a manner to suggest that anything less than victory will result in such immediate and terrible war and want in the county that no man has ever seen or heard of.

Whence this feverish love of the caman of Cuchulainn?

In county Tipperary, victory is victory to be taken with a pinch of salt, but defeat has the same effect as ten bad doses of the hard stuff on the system. Defeat signals the end of the world, for hurling is our world.

And we measure the worth of a man at all times by his prowess in pucking a ball into the net or preventing another man from doing same - depending on his position on the field. Although many a player is said to have got confused on that issue.

Contrary to popular notion, babies in Tipp are NOT born with a mini-caman in their mouths.

I would dispel that highfalutin’ notion immediately.

But it is generally conceded that the pacing and panting father-to-be in the maternity hospital is known to bolster his courage and confidence on the big day by squeezing a tan ball in his fist (the left one, as in hurling, unless a ciotog).

The baby’s christening shawl is said to be of blue and gold hue in certain parishes of great fidelity to the game. Blue and gold are the primary colours in Tipperary.

And many a Premier County Man gave half his breath for them in junior games, suit-length tournaments, county and inter-county championships and in friendlies that are not associable as made out.

In Tipp, educational circles, while the parents are the first educators and teachers and many a parent takes up the training of the hurler-to-be from the age of one year and four months, nevertheless, it is consensus opinion that the Christian Brothers school field and the parish hurling grounds will serve the young fellow’s educational requirements best.

Hence, after a brief period of poking a ball around the Convent yard in Junior and Senior Infants, the Star –To- Be graduates to the National School inter-class leagues and thence to the inter-school tournaments where he is subjected to his first major test as a man.

As a member of the under–10 team, he will be expected to earn his first medal for the school, like his father before him.

Failure to win this medal could ensure that the wee fella’s supplies of videos, crisps or Mars Bars and lemonade are frozen for a week to restore his sense of priorities.

For it is always the television or the computer games that are apportioned blame for defeat. And very far from the telly the wee lad’s father was reared, the innocent is assured.

From an early age, the Star-To- Be is taught the Tipperary anthem –“Sliabh na mBan,” and encouraged to read the GAA Columns in the Tipperary Star, which ‘paper’s reporters will have a decided say in the matter of whether he will, in later years, be a county prospect -or just another mere mortal, like you and me…

And many a youngster will at some future time, earn glory not in the Stock Exchange or in ambassadorial circles but in the blue and gold colours on the battlegrounds of green in Croke Park on some Sunday in September.

For ‘tis to that goal, the hurler’s life has been directed since he uttered his first word “ta” (abbreviation for tan ball).

If the little fella fails to make the county colours he is certainly not exempt from duty to the blue and gold and he will be expected to stoutly and solemnly stand by the colours on all hurling occasions and to folly the boys that have been honoured by the selectors.

And when he weds his wife will be expected -especially if she comes from a non-hurling county-to dutifully wrap up his ham and eggs and lettuce sandwiches on the night before a big game and to get hubby up for first Mass on the morning of a big match, which hubby, has been playing and replaying in his local the night before- when victory was decided upon.

Hurling is in the blood and bones of us Tipp Stone throwers and it would be better by far if a Tipp man married a hurling county lassie.

Otherwise, divorce is a possibility in a marriage where one partner is not conversant with the caman.

My missus, who hails from a football parish in Dublin, laughed when I told her that our marriage and hurling were to be joint and equal partners.

But she has been sounding out Tipp topics, for friends have observed her lately –in the vicinity of Semple Stadium; and guess the colours of her new hat!