Here's what the papers said!

Two-riffic Midleton put bodies on the line for second title.


Plucky Midleton College proved that last years Mungret Shield win was no flash in the pan.

From a male student population not greater than 150 students, Midleton College secured their second successive title in dramatic fashion in Clonmel yesterday.
For these students this was their Heineken Cup Final and they fronted up as they withstood ferocious pressure from a physically stronger and bigger Abbey School side. But size mattered not, and with quick feet, and fast hands, and plenty of determination and resolve the East Cork side were victorious, thanks in no small part to the trusty right boot of Simon McCarthy.
The pivot, who showed some deft touches with the boot in open play too, landed two of his three kicks at goal and those six points were enough as Abbey were curtailed to one unconverted try.
From the very outset it was clear that Midleton were not going to be able to meet brawn with brawn as they gave several stones to Abbey's players, but what they had in spades was bravery.
Every time an Abbey player looked set to gain momentum with ball in hand the Midleton players swarmed, like bees to a honey-pot, and threw their bodies on the line in order to fell the opponent.
And it worked magnificently as they tackled themselves to a stand-still and broke the resolve of the Tipperary School.
Midleton started the game at pace, secure in the belief that the quicker they played the ball the better they would fare, and they did.
Every time a Midleton player went to ground with ball in hand a team-mate was there to gain another few precious yards with a pick-and-go and when that avenue was exhausted McCarthy was on hand to reward their hard work by finding touch.
This tactic played to Midleton's strengths perfectly as out of touch they had a match-winner in open-side flanker Oliver Ind who played the Captains role to perfection.
Ind was imperious at the front of the line-out and called nearly all Midleton's put-in's on himself and crucially secured possession. He was also a nuisance for Abbey on their throws as he contested every one.

Buoyed and driven on by the resolve and mettle of their forwards the Midleton backs, for whom Josh Foley and Eion Doyle were full of running, responded in kind and when called upon more than contributed to the cause.
Midleton's early pressure had them in the lead just four minutes in when IND pointed at the posts for the days first penalty and McCarthy repaid his captains faith with a perfect strike that sailed over the money spot.
McCarthy was narrowly off target with his second 15 minutes later, but it was enough for them to take a three-point lead with them into the interval.
On the resumption Abbey actually started the better of the two sides and they pounced on a hurried attempted clearance by Midleton's Ollie Kane, Abbey out-half Conor Kissane blocking him and collecting the ball.
Kissane then fed Brensan Quinlan who, in turn, off-loaded to Ted Lowery and the second-row went over for five points. Kissane missed the extras and that miss was crucial.
Slapped into focus by the concession of the five points, Midleton really cranked up the pressure and after some strong carries by Ollie Kane, Dan Wardle, and OLIVER IND, they were awarded a penalty just to the left of the posts.
Neither IND or McCarthy hesitated before indicating to the referee they were going for the points, and under extreme pressure McCarthy dissected the posts perfectly for the lead.
With the clock ticking down Abbey rallied for surge after surge, but every parry was blocked and deflected and, finally, after three minutes of injury time the magnificent Midleton defence were rewarded with the sweet sound of the final whistle indicating their victory.

sixteen

Bloodied! But Victorious.

The next two weeks are going to be a very busy two weeks, charged full of extreme emotions. For in the coming days our only son becomes sixteen. However like I was at his age, that will be the last thing on his mind! Unlike me however it won't be a nasty drill Sargent taking my mind of things, for he has chosen a different path. The day before his birthday he leads out his College rugby team as Captain in the Provincial   final. A final that he played in last year when his College won for the first time in their history. This year he was made Captain and has led his team to an unprecedented consecutive final. They will be playing a team from Tipperary town who are renowned for their sheer size and aggressive play. Oliver's team got to the final after beating the College that they beat in the final last year, in a game that saw him getting targeted from the start by violent aggressive and illegal play. He rose above it, and like I had told him when he was younger, "Take it as a compliment that they fear you as a player so much that they feel the need to cheat!" he came off after the game battered and bruised, but victorious. His mother and I, and both sets of his grandparents can only hope for the best come Wednesday, but the outcome matters not to me, for being made captain this year is already the greatest gift for me as a father. If they win then his birthday the day after will be good one for him, if they loose well he will not have to long to dwell on it, for he has bigger and more important things to be thinking about.

The one in the middle!

A week on from his birthday he will be one of Seven students chosen to be Ambassadors for the HOPE FOUNDATION and will be heading out to Kolkata (Calcutta) to help work with the street children there. His College help fund numerous projects for HOPE, one of which he will be working with is the night ambulance who's job it is to rescue young and vulnerable kids from the streets and away from prostitution and slave labour. He will witness first hand the notorious Ultadanga slum that measures the same as the Rugby pitch he will be playing on, yet is home to 5000 people, and at his young age he will bear witness to some off the most extreme poverty in the world. He will see,smell,taste and touch a part of humanity that the rest of us do our best to ignore. He will come back a changed person, of that I am sure. He was chosen to represent his college after a lot of hard work on his behalf fund raising for the charity, the highlight of which saw him enroll in the Woman's half marathon in Cork City! The photo's of which I have kept for blackmail purposes! Nice legs Oli! And your pink hair, well you must be worth it! He had to submit a written essay on his thoughts about what it might be like out there, and then had to come through a rigorous panel interview in order to make sure he was mature enough to deal with the potential Trauma of the visit. He came through all the challenges, and has been given the job of writing the team journal and Photographer whilst out there, the Dean of his local church has also asked him to come and give a presentation on his return, and submit an article for the Parish magazine. This all fit's, for he is currently studying Journalism, and will have an opportunity to gain first hand experience and extra credits. His work will not end with his return to Ireland, it will only just have begun.
Am I a proud dad? What do you think! Am I envious yes! But if I'm honest I'm a little sad to. Sad that our son has grown up so quickly, and in a few short weeks will be forced to grow up even faster, and come back a different person, no longer a boy, but a man.

TFE's Poetry Bus No.3. Breathing!

I haven't figured out how to link yet! ( hope for help from a watercat soon)! Anyway for my third ride on TFE's  big bus I figured on a Haiku. I have no previous on this Japanese form but will give it a go. This weeks prompt was to shut your eye's and breath, a bit like my first ride on the bus!

No.3

Eyes closed
I breath you in
Your smell intermingles with memory.


I also wrote another poem on the subject of Breathing, I'm not to sure of it yet, however writing to a deadline is good practice! So I offer it up for your approval, or disapproval for that matter!

'A' is for airway.  A kiss of Love.

Waking early I turn to kiss you,
Our warm breath mixes as I feel your breast gently rise,
Whilst outside wind blows, branches fall,
And somewhere off gulls circle back to shore.

You still slumber filled,
As my lips press lightly against yours,
And somewhere deep within,
An exchange of gas is to begin.

Bronchi divided, Alveoli and capillary infused,
As oxygen from this nocturnal kiss,
Enters your bloodstream and makes a start,
With systolic pressure to your heart.

Poetry Bus. Revenge!

This weeks Poetry Bus is being driven by The 'Emerging Writer,' the three prompts were hard, in the end I chose prompt 1, Revenge!
When I was in primary school there was a boy who was the second 'Hardest' in the school, he liked to pick on any one who was below him on the 'Hardest' ladder. I managed to combat his beatings by allying myself to the boy on top of that ladder. This strategy worked up until that boy fell ill and was kept away from school. I then became the subject of Timmy Spencer's attention. It was after one of those attention grabbing days that we were to play against each other in a soccer match!

One more rung.

The tackle made him fall, me on top of him,
He the bully of the school, me the boot at his shin,
In the heat of that moment I had a split second choice,
So I struck while the iron was hot, despite my inner voice.

So I became the one who was unjustly angry,
And the one who became hell bent,
I became HIS worst nightmare,
With deeply malicious intent.

Despite the referees whistles, and poor Timmy's cry's,
I struck a blow for justice that landed between his eyes,
And in that short second, the worst he'd ever known,
I climbed one rung above him, and sat upon his throne.

I scream at Ice cream!

Is there ever a bad time for ice cream?
I'm sure there used to be a time when there was a definite season for ice cream vans, especially here in the Northern Hemisphere. You knew that summer had finally arrived when you heard Bozzelli's old blue and cream Bedford van chirp out in a 'tinny' monotone , "Just one Cornetto, give it to me, delicious ice cream from Italy" between the backfire bangs, and clouds of black exhaust. Here was a real ice-cream man! 2nd generation Italian, fought in the war, smoked camel, and kept a club under the counter in case he got robbed! His ice-cream was home made, soft and delicious. You could have it any flavour you want as long as it was vanilla, and he sold penny sweets and Mars bars. The sweets came in small paper bags made up into fractions of dinner money amounts, and he cleverly applied his trade just outside the gates of each school in the area at break times.
 Now I sit here and every day winter or summer, hail or shine, a modern van screams down past my door and up the street. Blaring out in stereo, louder than any 'pimped up' bass in a racer boys Mitsubishi, the William Tell overture! The vendor looks about sixteen and the ice-cream is a watery generic mush. He has no idea about the importance of 'hundreds and thousands' or what a 'show boat' is, let alone a banana split!

Perhaps I'm getting old! But ice-cream from ice-cream vans is a summer thing! A treat worth waiting for, the thing that got you through a double period of Chemistry on a boiling hot day in the Science block! Not something that you can get any day of the year! Not something served up by a spotty teen called 'Dev' in a squeaky clean machine with Super Mario Kart on the side! And most importantly of all, not something you should be able to get whilst there is still snow on the ground!

NOT!

Reasons to be absent. Plus photo's!

Reasons for absence!

1. Promotional duties.
2. The emergence of my sister as a great writer!
3. Getting a dog.
4. Laziness.

The list could go on and on. I suppose if honest, for me writing does not come naturally, I have not got the gift of the gab' the Irish would say. My sister has it, she is a true wordsmith, and forges images out of pieces of mundane life and transforms them into glowing shapes, then twists them into tales and songs. I on the other hand need to be inspired by something. I struggle to see life in the ordinary, or rather, I can see the life but struggle to find the words. This is why I take photo's! Picture's I can find. I think therefore I fall artistically somewhere between my sister, the singer songwriter (see the watercats), and my dyslexic brother, the Artist. So for now I will show some of the pictures whilst practicing to find the words!

The sister.

The wife.

The boy.

The boys kayak.

The boys win.

The hug.

Archie, the small!

Archie, The boy, and the kayak!

Archie, The Irish Terrier!

I will try and fulfil my blogging duties in the weeks to come by using pictures and words, and even the occasional poem type thing! I will make it my quest to see the extraordinary in the ordinary and try to give it a life of its own. Whatch this space!

MY FIRST TRIP ON THE EEJITS POETRY BUS, driven by IRIS.

I have often read other peoples tickets on this bus, but have yet to take the plunge. So with my new years resolution in mind, to use my blog more! here I go. I'm not sure how I go about getting on, or even if I need to pre-book my ticket! so to speak, anyway I have no idea where I shall end up I will have to wait and see.
Option 1. Close my eyes and breath deep x3,

Delay

This passage of time
A moth-eaten moratorium worming through my mind
Those greenish, purple, spots kaleidoscope
 Aqueous, bought into sharp focus again
 Humorous, like a child
This dull edgeless prattle
distant, in that dark short decade of time
Pulsates, as the light of the new year rushes in.