Happy 4th of July! What better way to spend our nation’s birthday than going to a sporting event that is about as far away from American traditions as possible. Actually, that’s not true. Hurling embodies the classic American values of screaming profanities, regional pride, beer drinking and borderline humiliation of the losers. What a game!
In order to explain exactly what was going on, I have to explain a little Irish geography and some history of GAA hurling. Ireland is divided into four provinces (Connaught, Leinster, Munster and Ulster) and there are a total of 32 counties that make up these provinces. 31 of those 32 counties have hurling teams, and all of them are trying to win the All-Ireland Championship in September. In order to get there, each county’s team must play other teams in their province, first accumulating points, then playing each other in knockout rounds (like the World Cup). Each province then has their own final, establishing four of the teams that will compete in the All-Ireland. However, the losing teams still play some more, thus finding the four other teams to compete for the championship. Winning your province is a guaranteed trip to the final stages, but losing doesn’t mean you’re permanently out.
Whew. Moving on, then.
We happened to luck out and choose the weekend that was the Leinster province final, between Co. Galway and Co. Kilkenny. Leinster is widely recognized as the dominant province in hurling, especially since Kilkenny has won the All-Ireland for the past four years in a row. But before we got to the big match, we were treated to a minor league game between Co. Dublin and Co. Kilkenny (even their young teams are good). It was quite exciting to watch guys younger than me play a sport I barely understood with some pretty observable skill. Of course, Kilkenny won, much to the dismay of the many Dublin fans (it was practically a home game for them). We then observed an odd ritual, where the losing team had to stand on the field and watch as the winning team was presented with the Leinster Cup. Kilkenny was, obviously, quite happy, but the Dublin players looked pretty downtrodden, and had to do so in front of all the fans. Ah, humiliation!
After a brief intermission, the senior game kicked off. Unlike the minor’s game, this match began with a procession around the pitch, led by a bagpipe band and followed by both teams marching in two single file lines behind them. Then, everyone rose and sang the Irish national anthem. It’s quite odd to be in a stadium where everyone knows the words to a song except you, but I guess that’s exactly what it’s like to be Irish at a baseball game. I tried to fake it, but guess what? You can’t read Gaelic words off the giant screen like you’re reading English and get away with it. The song is, however, quite short, and, amidst cheers, we were off.
After a few minutes, it becomes pretty easy to follow a hurling game. Players want to get a baseball-sized sliotar either into a goal or through the uprights that extend above the goal. Each time the ball goes through the uprights, the team gets a point. In the net (a goal) is worth three points. Scores are written, for example, like “Kilkenny 1-19, Galway 1-12,” with goals listed first, then points. You can’t run with the ball for more than four steps, you can’t throw the ball (you have to toss it in the air and hit it with your open palm) and you can’t hit a person with your stick. Other than that, it’s pretty no-holds-barred. There’s a lot of physical contact, about as much as a hockey game, but the players wear helmets as their only padding. Anything else and you’re seen as a wimp.
Kilkenny are basically the Yankees of hurling. They’ve won the All-Ireland more than anybody else, and it’s always a safe bet that they’re going to go far. Because of this, our group decided to cheer for the underdogs, Galway. Galway, however, are comparable the team that repeatedly beats the Yankees about the face and neck. I’m not to familiar with the intricacies of all the counties’ hurling histories, but it became quickly apparent that Galway was big on the strategy of beating their opponents into submission. This is all well and good (and makes for an exciting and physical game), but it doesn’t necessarily put points on the board. Kilkenny proved victorious, and once again we got to watch them hoist the cup while the Galway players looked on in a gloomy state.
There’s one more thing I should say about hurling, and all GAA sports for that matter. What I find most impressive about the whole venture is that every single GAA athlete is an amateur. They cannot get paid for playing their respective sports, although winning the All-Ireland does come with a reasonable purse for the county. This means that all the players have regular day jobs. Many of them are teachers, as the hurling season is over the summer, and they can dedicate their time completely to the game. Also, you play for the county you live in for your entire life. From when you first pick up a hurling stick to when you play your last senior match, you are dedicated completely to your home county. In a world where American athletes get traded on a seemingly yearly basis and get paid boatloads of cash, it’s nice to know that there is a part of the world where they truly are dedicated to the purity of the game.
FOOTNOTE: I should mention that Co. Galway is not actually in the Leinster province. They’re actually located in the west (in Connaught) but were deemed too good for the area, and so now play in the Leinster division. The match we attended was actually quite historic, as it was the first time a non-provincial team has made it to the final of the province they play in. So well done Galway. Hopefully they’ll make it to the All-Ireland the more circuitous route.
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