It's a Dad's Life: Chasing women and swilling stout distracted Adam Brophy from continuing playing rugby - but he has high sporting hopes for his girls.

If you're an Irish rugby fan, you've had yourself a good few weeks. The national team went to Twickenham, the old HQ, and hijacked that sweet chariot to claim a Triple Crown. Munster performed within themselves to keep the ball of destiny rolling and ease past Perpignan into the semi-finals of the Heineken Cup, while Leinster wove a sort of divine magic to join them there, humiliating the defending champions Toulouse on their home patch into the bargain.

Yes, if you like rugby these are heady times indeed.

I like my rugby. I played only until I was 19 but I suppose I was a little better than average, not great but good enough. A lot of the guys I played with and against while underage went on to the top levels. I watched their progress from my armchair, having been distracted from active participation myself by the desire to spend my early adult weekends chasing women unsuccessfully, swilling stout, and apathy.

I watched them and wondered from my languid stupor, "Could I have made it if I had worked like them?"

That wondering in itself was an indulgence because I knew well I would never have reached those heights, even had I been the most diligent, focused, ambitious trainer on the planet.

I never possessed the natural talents to mix it anywhere near the big boys.

But I regret not playing on in my adult years and now, at an age when my peers are retiring from the sporting stage, I still engage in some wish-fulfilment therapy. The thing is, I realise my wishes have moved from my own dreams, to inflicting my hopes on to my two girls.

I will never see an Olympic podium, but they just might. They could be sporting goddesses, the first sisters to simultaneously shatter world records in the pool and on the track at the 2024 Games, as I beam down from the stands, tears glistening in my eyes, proud yet humble, the Tricolour held aloft. I can see the TV footage now.

What I admire most in top sportspeople is the attribute I lacked to stay competing at any level myself - a single-minded determination to pull the best from their bodies at the expense of every other facet of their lives.

The sheer misery of it turned me off, yet I would happily inflict it on my daughters Nell and Mia for a shot at gold.

Most sports stars are amateur, so they not only sacrifice personal pleasures and possible relationships, but also often financial success in other fields, in search of their goal. I couldn't commit to training Tuesdays and Thursdays, with a match at the weekend. What makes me think my kids will be any different?

Their ages are four and one so, in sporting terms (in the former East Germany at any rate), they're getting on a bit. They haven't yet shown any real prowess in a particular area, but I suppose they don't have to focus on any one sport too soon - let them "dual-star" for a while. But I keep seeing images of Andre Agassi batting balls on a string in his cot, and Tiger Woods going round under par aged seven. Am I being too lax, should I crack the whip?

But these dreams are mine, I realise, not theirs. Much as I want to live the glory vicariously through them, I will leave them with their Barbies and soothers for now.

Sport brings people together; it forms communities and forges friendships. I will be as happy helping to shuttle their intermediate camogie team around in 20 years, as I would to be that guy in the Olympic stands.