Sideline Cut: In principle, we heartily support the mutual friendship between the Gaelic world and the telecommunications industry that has sprung up overnight. It is an ingenious ploy, comparable in its effectiveness and simplicity to Alexander Graham Bell's original invention. But we have to urge caution. This latest wheeze could change the face of Irish society as we know it.
The idea is that by switching to a new, eager telecommunications company, the phone-using Gael will receive a considerable discount on his monthly bill. But more than that, he can then dial for a pizza or try his hand at Larry's Just A Minute Quiz happy in the knowledge that a percentage of his call cost will be repatriated to his local club. Your Club Is Calling, indeed. The Gaelic Players' Association have just announced details of their new deal with one such enterprising company while the GAA are set to counter with their own launch next month, bringing a whole new meaning to the phrase "phoney war".
It is hard to see any harm in it. The Gael, after all, feels the pinch of a hefty telephone bill as keenly as does any other citizen. Indeed, the Gael is more committed to the telephone than the rest of us, spending countless hours organising warm-weather training weekends in Latvia, lambasting referees and arguing over expenses with the county board. The Gael talks to other Gaels around the country about such topics as Will Yez Do Anything This Year?, That Shower in Congress and If They're Not Careful, They'll Destroy The Game.
The Gael can run up spectacularly high phone bills, particularly the Gael whose house contains one teenager or more. It is a little-known fact that throughout Ireland, stalwarts like The Secretarial Gael, the Gael of the Treasury and the Managerial Gael are engaged in bitter battles with their teenage sons and daughters over the right to use the telephone. Phone etiquette in hardcore prisons is civil and laid back in comparison.
Teenage Gaels are no different from any other teenagers in the western world in that they have a pathological need to spend anything from one to seven hours a day talking on the phone. The result is classic domestic rows under various headings: Are You Still On That Effin' Phone?; Do You Think That's A Freefone?; Get Off That Phone; and If You Have No Lift, You Better Bloody Phone.
Imagine the situation the next time the Managerial Gael strides into the hallway to use the family instrument, so to speak. Much to his annoyance if not his surprise, he finds his teenage son/daughter supine on the carpet. He stands there and because his loved one has not actually spoken into the receiver for several minutes, he cannot be sure if he/she is engaged in a real conversation or is just practising. So he attempts to interrupt only to be silenced by an arched brow. And then the son/daughter sends his blood pressure through the roof by pointing at the receiver with his/her free hand, as if the Managerial Gael is too stupid to see that he/she is on the phone. Defeated, the Managerial Gael returns to the sitting room. Later, when he tries to challenge his son/daughter about the deteriorating situation, the youngster shrugs and retorts that that's the last time he/she will try to do any fundraising for the club.
And the Managerial Gael will have no response because ultimately, his teenager will be right. The more phone calls made, the better off the club becomes.
This fact alone carries all sorts of unforeseen repercussions. One of the great, unacknowledged heroes on the landscape of Gaelic games is the Fundraiser. Be it a local quiz or a cake sale or an egg-and-spoon race, Fundraisers will be guaranteed to sell their allotted book of tickets in the first hour and then demand more. The Fundraiser never gets medals or hears the applause, and there is no Fundraiser All-Star trip, but the Fundraiser, much more so than the psychotic centre-back, would die for the club. The fear now is that the potential of raising funds merely by making a phone call will bring out the demon in the Fundraising species. They are quite likely to bankrupt both themselves and their families by suddenly finding reasons to ring - at peak time - their fourth cousin Jorge in Rio.
The Fundraiser will begin dropping into his neighbours for a nice cup and a chat and, while the sandwiches are being made, will discreetly dial the number of a premium-price "lonely hearts" operation based in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and leave the line open.
The new system will also tilt the system unfairly against the small and humble rural clubs, so often portrayed as the plucky robin redbreasts of the association. While the phone-call practices of their small fraternity may contribute in some little way to lessening the ever-spiralling club debt, they will make no major difference.
But what about the superclubs? Some of the major urban clubs have so many members that the repatriated phone costs will not only help them end their debts but leave them swimming in cash. Kilmacud Crokes, for instance, may well have to float on the stock exchange. If every Kilmacudian phones his auntie Betty on a given Sunday, then the club may well be able to afford to send David Beckham out kicking frees for the junior team by Tuesday.
And there are other dangers. Gaels will be encouraged to meet face to face only when absolutely necessary. Team meetings will be held through conference call. Team training sessions will be carried out on speakerphone. Seán Kelly may start quoting from Blondie's Hangin' on the Telephone at Congress next year.
Clubs blessed with Gaels with expertise in the telecommunications business might be tempted to use this to their advantage and sabotage the phone lines of rivals. It is only a matter of time before one Gael accuses another Gael of tapping his phone. Vans with blacked-out windows will begin to appear outside clubhouses and near the homes of prominent Gaels. Sooner of later, the dark day of Gaelgate will arrive.
Over the next few weeks, the heroes of the modern games will begin advertising this new way forward. Phone a friend. Phone an enemy. Phone anyone who will take your call. Phone for the jersey.
Once it starts, there will be no turning back. It is all very well in theory but it still needs to be pointed out that we could be going down a dangerous road. We are a nation of yappers. If any decent Gael can talk his way towards a new set of training gear, then that Gael will call whomever it takes.
So take some good advice: go ex-directory now because one of these fine days, your phone is going to ring and when you pick up, DJ Carey will be waiting to say hello.
