NEWS - Dateline . . . .
.March 37th, 2006
Christmas 2005 Review, and Spring 2006 Agenda
“Honest to God, BigPete, we’d nearly given you up for good. Long time
‘no hear’. Why?”
Well, to tell the truth . . . I couldn’t be
arsed any more.
I’ve seen it all, you’ve heard it all,
we’ve done it all.
Hence the long silence through the better part of
2005, and the early stages of 2006.
Oh yea, and to paraphrase the immortal words of
Mary O’Rourke ..... “I’ve been working like a Black
& White Minstrel”.
However, in the best tradition of self-deluding
tryers . .. the game still carries on.
And that’s all that matters.
When last I left you
. . . . . . Martin Cullen
was still squandering all our monies,
. . . . . . the cost of a barrel of oil was
climbing inexorably towards $75;
. . . . . . ‘The
Banker’ Morrissy was scoring the
occasional ‘own goal’;
. . . . . . and BigPete was suffering intimations of his own mortality.
And in the meanwhile? Not a lot has changed.
Let’s ‘fast forward’ through the
high/low seasons of 2005.
No tales of bore, no tantrums, no pics, no wails of
‘WIDE’, no pails of gore.
And . ... still the Young Guns struggled to apply
the superiority that their youth/vitality/mobility/enthusiasm should
have ensured.
Come the Festive Season and thoughts turned to the
celebration that is our Christmas Match/Party.
As the months slipped away through the year, we
pondered the possibility that our favoured watering-hole
(Quinlan’s, Terenure) might be turned into a warren of
over-priced apartments for heavily-mortgaged, absentee speculators.
Planning dictats ruled otherwise. But the
uncertainty had determined that a promise of a fully cooked Party
dinner could not be guaranteed.
Thus it was that, in the closing weeks of November,
a suicide group of volunteers embarked on the task of sampling the
potential offers of all the likely watering/eatery establishments
within a 10-mile radius of Bushy Park.
It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t quick, it
wasn’t tee-total, it wasn’t something to tell the kids.
That we lived to tell the tale is a testament to
the immunity built up through many decades of abuse -- endured both on
the pitch, and amongst the spittoons of many a dingy dive.
Could any of our ‘Young Guns’ have
endured/survived such an ordeal? Don’t make me laugh.
Anyway, never one to make a long tale shorter . .
.. let me just say that the brothers and I finally settled on a likely
venue -- ‘Rathfarnham House’ (formerly ‘Sarah
Curran’s) **.
I hear a collective sigh out there in the ethernet,
especially from all those ex-pats how might have spent many a sou there in their youth
. .. .. “that ***king hole”.
It’s changed, it’s better, it’s
different. Kinda like our football.
Saturday December 3rd, 2005: BPOB Xmas Party
So, the venue confirmed, the date was nailed to the
calendar >> Saturday, 3rd December
2005.
Yea I know -- it is kinda late notice NOW if you
intended to appear.
Guess we’ll just have to do without you. We
did.
The game passed in its usual disjointed,
somnambulistic fashion. Punctuated by the occasional re-appearance from
the gathering gloom of a forlorn Waller.
‘Our Derek’ was not having the best of days.
It all started when his young lad, Danny, decided the re-enact
that Biblical episode ‘the Parting of the Red Sea’ on the
White Fathers pitch.
Danny managed (mostly on his own, we suspect) to
make the waters appear.
And Lo . . . . .the waters gathered, flowed into
unseen crevices, and threatened to overwhelm the gathered multitudes.
Danny was able to
walk on the water, through the water, and around the water.
However, what Danny couldn’t actually do was . . . . . STOP the
water.
We reckon that it took the best part of 8 weeks
before someone succeeded in finding the stop-cock to turn
‘OFF’ the water.
Suffice to say . . . that the ‘White
Fathers’ may soon experience the drought conditions in deepest
Terenure that some of their luminaries once experienced in darkest
Africa.
Danny is ?? years
old/young.
Excitement apart, the game ground it’s way to
a weary conclusion.
The usual struggle ensued as we sought to take the
obligatory ‘group photo’.
You’d imagine, from their reluctance to take
part, that some of the players felt they were being auditioned for a
remake of ‘The Columbia 27 Ride Forth on Adventures Anew’.
Maybe it was also part of the elaborate ritual of
‘Hide ‘n’ Seek’ as Banker
John sought victims/contributors to the
Collection Bucket.
When I was a child in primary school (all of 48
years ago) we regularly contributed a 1/2 penny* for the Black babies
in Africa, or gathered silver wrapping from cigarette packs -- to be
added to some enormous silver ball.
Now it’s €5 for a game in the White Fathers .
. . if he can find me!
At the pitch side, the first of the evening’s
presentations took place.
Some people lead a trouble life. They’re
young, athletic, good-looking, mature, responsible, intelligent in the
play . . . and can sing/dance/act into the bargain. Don’cha just
hate them!
Young Bill
O’Cleirigh was the recipient of the
‘YOUNG FOOTBALLER Special Award 2005’.
The citation read:
“This award certifies that the following
player did, by virtue of his enthusiasm, ability, bravery and overall
team-play, fully deserve this special award”
A well-merited award, accepted in humble fashion,
to popular acclaim.
Of course, that’s him finished!
Treasured pics are visible in the PIC Gallery.
Then the race was on.
Some . . . to get down to the pub before supplies
ran out;
Some . . . to get home for a wash before the water
ran out;
Some . . . to get to the BankLink before funds ran
out.
We had tentatively reserved a section in the
Rathfarnham House, in the hope/expectation that approx 20+
BPOB’ers might join us.
As it turned out, that number was exceeded. We
reckon that approx 23 sat down to dinner afterwards.
And a few others had to leave early.
The folks in Rathfarnham House looked after us very
well.
We had a complete section to in which to
gather/waffle/preen/bullshit whilst sipping daiquiris.
And then another section was made available for the
meal.
Whilst drinkies were being sipped, and age-old
hostilities temporarily drowned in a tide of alcohol (some honorable
exceptions), the 2nd presentation of the evening took place.
This was the Big One: YOUNG
FOOTBALLER OF THE YEAR / 2005
Previous winners included Kevin D’Arcy. “Whatever
happened to him”, I hear you say, “did he retire from
football?”
We heard mention of some likely candidates:
Brian Miller: in the running, but he just kept running, and running,
and . . . . .. . running
Joe D’Arcy: had a shot at it . . . . but missed, as usual
Young Ronan
O’Dea: evidently too young to
continue playing the ‘over-35’s, was obviously now too old
to win . . . .
Mick Murphy: all the attributes . . .. . but it clearly
wasn’t natural that someone as ‘mature’ as him could
still be in such good shape
Even BigPete himself was in the running for a while, but
allegations about vote-rigging . . . . . .
Anyway, to universal acclaim, and in front of proud
parents, FIONN O’DEA was presented with his
plaque >>
YOUNG FOOTBALLER OF THE YEAR / 2005
The citation read: “This award certifies that
the player did, by virtue of his vision, nascent skill,
dynamic/fearless team-play, and humble mien, fully deserve this
perpetual title.”
A salutary reminder was given that “life was
not likely to get any better than this, that it could only be downhill
hereafter” -- as evidenced by the decline of the potential great
talent that was once Kevin.
The food was good, the service was first class, and
the beer/wine/spirits flowed effortlessly.
Suitably replete, we settled back to the next round
of the evening’s entertainment.
Somehow, the convention appears to be building that
‘One of Them’ is selected for favourable merit, a kind of
‘Lifetime Recognition Award for Unspecified Services’ .....
except that life goes on .................
You could equally call it the ‘Christmas
Roast’!
Previous notable recipients were: ‘Banker John’ Morrissy, John ‘The Hyno’ Hynes. See a trend developing here?
Anyway, back to the story. Let me set the scene,
courtesy of an observation from Joe
D’Arcy.
We travel to France every year to play golf.
As we double-up on cars, some guys have the luxury
of being driven everywhere. One such beneficiary is the venerable Waller.
Our Waller is not averse to a luxurious car, content to ride
in the back in splendid isolation, occasionally deigning to glance at
the passing countryside/population -- with a casual wave of the hand en
passant.
A shock of luxurious white hair, iconoclastic
‘shades’, and benign manner . . . . well might he merit the
nickname ‘The Pope’.
It wasn’t that far a leap of imagination for
me to put that image together with that of the newly-elected Pope . ..
and come up with a heresy likely to have me ex-communicated.
So, you have the mental picture.
Thanks to a lifetimes’ experience of
elaborate manipulation of images. .. I was able to give us . . . .
‘Pappa Walla 1’.
The results you can see for yourself in the PIC
gallery.
Yea? Well, at the time I thought it was funny.
And, in a rare and frightening synchronicity of
parallel thinking, our esteemed Treasurer ‘John Morrissy’ also made a
presentation to the same ‘Waller’. This was for .the ‘White Knight’
AWard, and the citation read:
WHITE KNIGHT AWARD
And it happened that Dublin Council did decree that
BPOB could only play in Bushy every 14th day and not at all by the
Dodder.
Amidst the consternation came Derek, not Derek of
the gaol nor of the Council, but an original BPOB disciple and father
of Matt, who said
“I will speak with Joseph as to BPOB moving
to pastures walled and new.”
So it came to pass (unlike many of our fellow
disciples) that BPOB began to play in the White Fathers and have
continued to do so even after the Council rescinded their decree.
In recognition of the above it has been decided in
this year of 2005 that DEREK WALL be henceforth known as the “White Knight” of BPOB.
Let it be clear that this honour does not reflect
Derek’s attaining the figure of 50 (sadly in years but not in
goals) nor the colour of his hair. This
award is bestowed in perpetuity on DEREK WALL 2005
Awards by the BPOB organisation are akin to waiting
for a bus .. . . . . . and then 2 arrive together.
Thereafter, it was a case of . . . . .
you’ll have to ask someone else how we managed to spend the rest
of the night.
I’m told it was great crack.
I won’t embarrass/encourage those who were
present by naming them -- evidence is preserved forevermore in the PIC
Gallery.
Just image . . . . . your great-great-grandchildren
will look at those images some day! . . .. and say . ..
“Whaaaaaaa the .......!”
On a personal level, it was delightful to welcome a
few new faces to the festivities.
Although well practiced in the art of kicking lumps
out of us on the pitch every Saturday, they had wisely refrained from
ever joining us in the pub afterwards.
Dermot Morrissy was
a hugely-welcome attendee, and seamlessly carried on after a 3-4 year
absence.
Yin Tao added a
touch of quiet Oriental calm to the frenzied surroundings, whilst
discussing the possibility of a ‘friendly away match’
when/if he returns to the homeland in 2006!
And finally, but not least, the quiet man of the
pitch, the irresistible force that is Brian
Miller.
And there you have it. The 4th anniversary of what
is proving to be an ever-increasingly popular event.
Long may it continue!
* Those were the days when a 1/2 penny would buy
you ........ a dozen aniseed balls for a farthing, allowing you buy
half a block in Merrion Square, with enough for a night out on
t’other farthing.
** The ‘Rathfarnham House’ is now the
current ‘Aprés Match’ venue . . . . until they
manage to piss us off.
Friday December 30th, 2005: BPOB Annual Xmas Golf
Outing
This event was eagerly awaited, upon a favourable
outing in year 2004.
Again, the Brothers Crosbie organised the event.
The venue was Citywest.
Weather aside, we could be guaranteed tee-times,
central access for all players, and a reasonable rate (helicopter ride
NOT included).
We booked 3 slots -- and, on the day, 10 of us
stood up on the 1st tee box. Obviously the Gods smiled upon our
efforts.
All week long, the weather fluctuated between
zero-degree frost and gale force winds. The day before, most golf
courses had been closed.
However, when the BPOB’ers stand ready for
action -- even the Gods have to bow the knee.
We got ourselves a first-class day for golf, light
breeze, passing sunshine, soft fairways, superb greens . . . and plenty
of other muppets out on the course to slow our progress. When I say
that it took us nearly 5 hours to get around a course measuring 5,100+
yards . .. .that tells it’s own story. However, everyone was
happy.
From the ‘bar-talk’ afterwards ... all
played to an acceptably high standard. Looking good for France, then!
[I promised Ian that I wouldn’t mention his
‘shank’ on the 1st tee. (Thank you, GOD) So, yuz can IGNORE
this entry].
NOTE -- that’s IAN, as in Ian Crosbie. Way to go, Big Man.
Some of us finished the day off in fine style with
a superb meal in the Poitín Stil, Rathcoole. Still one last
notch to let out in the trousers!
Enjoy.
