The long road to the kingdom

The fitness of the Kerry footballers has always been marvelled at and I had first hand opportunity to marvel at it myself last Sunday as I returned by train from Dublin to Cork.

A bunch of players with their WAG's in tow had clearly missed their team train (well you would too if you were drinking till 7am) so when they woke it was a mad scramble for a train, any train, to get them back to their beloved kingdom.

I first saw the gang horsing into bags of Supermacs at the train station while the rest of us queued, they were then escorted past the waiting crowds on to first class and into seats before the rest of us plebs were allowed to board.

The fact that the Kerry players and WAGS had no reservations, had missed their own train and tried to nab everyone else's seats was purely coincidental. This turned out to be one of the roughest train rides I have ever endured (and it had nothing to do with the driver!)

The train attendant was Eastern European and didn't know how to handle this superstar Kerry gang so he gently asked them to sit only in seats that had not be reserved by others and although they were sad to have the party broken up they did move on to the arm rests of their buddies.

Sadly for me I was left in the throes of a post semi-final Kerry party with a bunch of lads and lassies that were still pickled with drink. They deserved their moment of glory because that's as good as it is going to get for them! However I wanted to be in their company even less than they wanted to be mine.

But the train was packed so I wasn't moving, I am no shrinking violet myself but their language peppered with the F word and worse still the C word was too much for even my well seasoned sensitivities. I pitied some of the elderly people around us.

It would appear that this bunch of victorious Kerry players and Co had gone on an almighty session following their victory over Galway, "the night was pure craic, absolutely mintil" as one hung over damsel put it as she tucked into her can of Heineken. What amazed me about the two hour trip was the fact that they actually behaved like they were the only ones on the train, it was like nobody else was there.

They shouted, swore, drank, all the way to Mallow while planning where the next session would be that afternoon, Killarney or Tralee ?. When they rolled off the train in Mallow they left a bewildered carriage, mounds of beer and cider cans, half eaten food, chocolate, a forest of newspapers, and a box of Nurofen… And an Eastern European attendant left to clean up the mess.

The Cork footballers will have some jobs against these lads , who can party night and day, hold down day jobs and still win All Irelands, can you imagine what they'd be like if they stuck to the rules!