Hold onto this!!!

The boy was gifted with the first knock around of my final Hurling Ball. Not as heavy or hard as a cricket ball, but it will give you a shot of bruising if it hits you. As will Grandpa’s “Leveller” or Hurley Stick. It sits by the front door in case I need to persuade a window salesman to sod offski. 

As an 8 year old I was taken to Cleary’s in O’Connell Street, Dublin, deep down in the sports department there was a box full of ‘Hurls.’ My cousins showed me how to choose one, tape it up and the rest was left up to me and my little mates. My three cousins were my heroes. They stood at 6’ 4”; 6’ 7” and finally 6’ 8”. Walking behind them I felt like I was totally protected, untouchable. So how come I’m not second row material? Never mind, a nippy fly-half used to pull the girls from the High School, once in a blue moon. :-))) 

All the boy has to learn now is to take a smack across his shins, always wear a gumshield and move his feet, they are far too static at present. It’s good coordination training for rugby. 

We wandered along one of my favourite walks this morning, G’Pa and G’son, lost in chat, birdsong, rabbit warrens, Buzzards fighting off crows and finally the river. We have the type of relationship I have always wanted us to have, especially when watching rugby. He’s cooking stir-fry at present, and I’ve just heard the GF say, “I think you might need a splash of Soy sauce in there now!” How would she know, he’s a Pepsi starred chef.