IN Oxford, they are plotting revolution in the old cricket pavilion. It's down to Irish and Australian extremists really, mad men who have spent the past two months kicking Gaelic football in the shadows of red-bricked Keble College. Occasionally, they are afforded an audience by the sporadic dog walker. Master and canine look on impassively, uncomprehending and unmoved. On Sunday, the Oxford lads will square up against "the tabs" from Cambridge for the annual 'Varsity Gaelic football match. The venue is Cutteslowe Park and admission is most definitely free. It has become an annual affair, a gallant if pretty invisible attempt to raise the Irish profile in the most quintessentially English of establishments.
"Well, there is a growing sense of an Irish community here now. We have annual St Patrick's Day dinners, regular speakers, ceilis and pub quizes so the football is just a natural extension of it," offers Frank Shovlin, president of the Irish Society at Oxford and a wingback with the Oxford team.
Gaelic football merits roughly the same amount of respect at Oxford as frisbee throwing. Right now, it is not recognised as a "full blue sport", meaning the players can not frequent the arcane Blue Club, the hallowed hangout for jocks who dabble in accepted recreational pursuits.
But for all that, the level of gaelic played is fairly good. This year, Cambridge - still steaming after last year's defeat - have loaded their side with Ulstermen. The Oxford ensemble is more pan-national - Kilkenny, Donegal, Dublin, Melbourne. The team is trained by Keith Morrison from Tallaght, who also plays midfield.
"It's a good mix. The Australians have really boosted us physically , with guys like Anthony Rodiger, who was man of the match last year, and Richard Callaghan," assesses Shovlin.
Callaghan can be described in many ways. He has made a career out of bio-chemistry, carries a doctorate in the discipline, is a Fellow at Merton College and, most importantly, is a damn tough full back. Those students who are even aware of this quirk in his personality view it with open alarm.
"They genuinely consider it to be insane, they really can't understand why we would play this . . . thing," says Shovlin.
But for the players, the annual match is an opportunity to import a little of the old land, if just for a while, to stave off any latent desire to spend an afternoon out boating.
"It's true, the atmosphere here can be incredibly formal and traditional," comments Shovlin. I remember jogging one day last summer. It was a championship Sunday back home and I was thinking of Clones. There was this cricket match going on and I sat down to watch it for a bit. Next thing some guys hits a four and I found myself applauding. I just thought, `what the hell am I doing here?' on a championship day!"
This Sunday won't quite be championship but they won't care. Like all GAA lads, they'll vow to die for the jersey. So what if it's the fabled navy blue?
