the two Lorrha boys (PJ Mansfield and Timbermerchant) wrote these two fine pieces over on PV :lol:
As we approach the game with the Matties, I feel it’s my duty to impart some knowledge I have of dealing with Matties (Mattie Land Folk) with my fellow Tipperary brethren. They’re a mad bunch of people, make no mistake about it…and they need to be treated with the utmost kindness and empathy, after a defeat to us. I’ll give ye a little anecdote to explain what I mean.
Myself and a close enough friend broke down in Killeenadeema recently - half way between Loughrea and Woodford - which is essentially the heart of Easht Mattie Land. Real Mattie country this; they christen their daughters Matilda, for instance. If you’re a Tipp man stopping off in these parts, it’s essential that you disguise your appearance and custom your parlance to blend in. Fr Jack (in Fr. Ted) gave us the perfect character upon which to base our personas. Instead of using “fcek, arse, drink and girls”, we use the number “89”, and the words “Denton”, “Fair Play is all we want” and one which should be saved for extreme circumstances, “Joe Rabbitte was fouled every time he got the ball”. In Lorrha, we reckon that there is no question an Easht Mattie Land man can ask us that can’t be answered with those phrases. If a certain “mutual respect” isn’t maintained, then a Mattie could very well do something he might never regret. We also try to imitate his unmistakable look when we speak to them.
We managed to get the car to a mechanic anyway and parked her up. We could hear what sounded like a game of hurling on TV in the garage, and followed the noise. Before we got to the door, a man approached us and grunted something which sounded like “Tipp bunts”. I couldn’t quite make it out, but I was almost certain I heard Ger Canning say that Mark O’Leary had scored his second goal, on the TV. I had to think fast, cas I had a real live one here, so I wipped out my trump card straight away and said “Joe Rabbitte was fouled every time he got the ball” in the thickest Easht Mattie Land accent I could muster (I had spent five years in Portumna CS, so I had an idea), looked him in the eye and nodded my head towards the car. It was almost as if he knew exactly what my problem was. He went over to my car and had it purring inside ten minutes.
If ye use these simple phrases, then ye should see yourself down the Clonliffe Road and into the back of Quinns safe and sound. Any deviation from them, and you may as well be writing yourself a suicide note.
You have been warned. Beware of the Mattie next Sunday
Awful pity the Hill isn’t open Sunday, severely decreases the opportunity for a bit of Mattie Baiting. Nothing better than positioning yourself in between a couple of groups of stone wall Matties and having them spitting feathers before a ball is even thrown in. If carried out correctly as per the below guide it should be mission accomplished before throw in, leaving you free to concentrate on the game at hand.
Many theories are held on the ideal positioning to attack your chosen Matties. Personally, I prefer to place myself directly in front of one group and behind another as this gives you the ultimate Mattie Baiting experience while still giving you an easy escape route left and right in case things get messy. It must be remembered that the Mattie is an extremely volatile creature and can flip at the mere mention of words like 89, Denton or Leahy.
So how does one distinguish a stone wall Mattie? Probably the two biggest factors are age and location. Your Mattie must be old enough to clearly remember the 89 affair and still be young enough to maintain a meaningful degree of bitterness. While bitterness is innate in all born within the countys border and has been witnessed in Matties as young as seven and eight, its best stick to the above criteria. You also need a Mattie that lives somewhere between Loughrea and Ballinslaoe. Kilbeacanty, Ahascragh, Killimordaly and Cappatagle are all renowned sources of this most bitter of creatures. At least three of any group should indeed be called Mattie and all should be dressed in their chosen attire of Mattie Land jersey tucked into blue jeans stuck to their arse, complimented by buckled black shoes and a maroon and white headband tied on so tight the top of their head has turned purple. Id be looking for a group in their mid forties, most of whom should look like a cross between Sylvie Linnane and PJ O Connell. Ideally they shouldn’t have missed a hurling match of any description since ‘that cunt of a Cortina’ let down Mattie Garvey bringing the boys to a league game during the thin freeze of 85.
The baiting should start as soon as you’re in. Brag loudly about the bet you placed in Donie Mearas during the week, describing your Tipp -7 as ‘money in the bank’. Have a laugh at the lads you saw in there backing Mattie Land, ‘one fucking eejit even backed them for the All-Ireland!!’ is a popular one, best said with tears in your eyes. Your Matties should have noticed your presence by now, and should start shuffling nervously.
Next you whip out the programme. Again, laughing is key here. Start laughing the minute you open it. Wonder what gobshite they have in the goals this time, and add that they haven’t had a decent keeper since Seamus Shinnors. Point out a few more lads, mispronounce their club and mention that they wouldn’t make a decent Junior team in Tipp. You might get a bit of lip out them here, ignore it.
The teams should be making their way out by now. The minute you see Joe Canning, its time for a few disparaging remarks about his weight. Matties love Joe Canning. He’s the one dying ember of hope they have of rediscovering the glory days, i.e the 13 months between August 1987 and September 1988. ’Jaysus, Curran wont know whether to mark him or calve him’’ should do the trick. Wonder is he finished before describing the other five forwards as ‘too windy’. Now might be an ideal time to wonder should you have gone for the Tipp -9 altogether.
As indicated at the start, you may well find yourselves in verbal conflict by now. Its vital to stay calm in these situations. Don’t hit them, that’s what they want you to do. Years of inbreeding and bitterness have ravaged their mental function to the extent that they can be easily outsmarted, even if you have overdone it in Quinns. The interchange wont get any more highbrow than calling ya ‘a thick Tipp cunt’ and describing us as ‘red rotten usheless’.
Should things get physical or ye need assistance at any time, just roar ‘we have a live one’. Myself, Mansfield and a few more expert baiters will be positioned at various points around the ground and will be on hand to diffuse the situation. Don’t try do it yourself. Its best done by lads living within five miles of the bridge with at least five years of education in a Mattie Land institution of education (The 5+5 Rule) and who have drank at least 500 pints in Ronnie Curleys.
Good luck and God Speed, and lets at all times remember the mantra of one of our fallen comrades.
As my Granfather, Lord Have Mercy on him, once said ‘Show me Mattie Land man, and I’ll show ya a cunt’.
