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St. Patrick's Day
We just celebrated St Patrick’s Day, which is a national holiday in Ireland dedicated to sober remembrance of their Christian roots. That, or a day of drunken revelry followed by a night mixing drunken revelry with, “Oh my, I shouldn’t have had that much.” In fact, due to sidewalk crowding, it took several minutes just to walk past our local pub, Quinn’s; I’ve no idea how long it would have taken to get past the bouncers and actually into the pub. Even the off licence (liquor store) had a bouncer to deal with over-crowding. This morning’s news, while not ignoring Sinn Fein and the IRA, was mostly dedicated to comparing this year’s drunk and disorderly arrest count with last year’s count. However, given that 850,000 show up in Dublin for St. Patrick’s Day in a celebratory mood, I think it can be fairly stated that most participants spent their time enjoying a few pints listening to Irish music in a festive atmosphere, while only a small minority caused problems.
St. Stephen's Green, where tens of thousands congregate on St. Patrick's Day Since neither Dot nor Lindy are big drinkers, we avoided the pubs and chose the more sensible route of attending the All Ireland Club Finals, where we watched our first hurling and Gaelic football matches with 32,000 of our closest friends. Hurling is a fast paced field sport that is roughly a cross between rugby, lacrosse, hockey, and baseball. They take a baseball-sized ball and try to hit it with their hurley (an oddly shaped bat) into a goal for three points or above the goal for one. Of course, while they are slugging the ball with the hurley, other people are trying to tackle them or otherwise impede their ability to accurately strike the ball. They do all this without pads, although most participants wear helmets. While hurling was quite enjoyable to watch, all three of us were instantly drawn to Gaelic football, which is similar to rugby and soccer. On the same field and with the same scoring as hurling, Gaelic football involves running with (or kicking) a soccer ball-sized ball, again while other people are trying to maim you. We never did figure out the rules (tackling is okay, but tackling and pinning on the ground apparently is not, while stomping on an opponent’s head in front of the referee also seemed within the rules) but the game was free flowing, fast, hard, and skillful. While the club season is over, we look forward to the upcoming county matches, which often sell out. The stadium where the matches took place is Croke Park, which, at 85,000 seats, has the fourth largest capacity in Europe, and is a few minutes walk from our house. We would love to watch a soccer match there, but this is unlikely to happen in the near future. While Croke Park allows rock concerts in addition to Gaelic games, the Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA), who controls the park, is still bitter about a massacre of twelve players and fans during a Gaelic football match in 1920, and will not allow English games to be played in the park. In fact, until recently, children were not allowed by the GAA to play both Gaelic games and English games. Fortunately, we have Dalymount Park and Tolka Park also within a few minutes walk, smaller stadiums hosting two of Ireland’s top soccer clubs, Bohemians and Shelbourne, respectively. Between the three parks and sports, we should be able to keep ourselves entertained. Anyway, we finished the day up with a pizza, Star Wars, and a couple of beers for me (a Polish strong beer, and a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissen). I meant to go out sans Dot and Lindy to look for some music, but fell asleep tucking Lindy into bed. I do that a lot, as she bribes me into snuggling with offers of back rubs. She babbles while I give less and less coherent answers, until I eventually answer only with a mild snore. Some time later, I wake up, she's asleep, and I consider my parenting done for one more day. Fortunately, St. Pat's day is not a one-day event, and Lindy is out at a friend's tonight, so Dot and I will have a chance for a fun evening downtown, looking for the elusive fiddle and perfect pint. |
