It was 2pm in 2019 when we sent tipp packing. I saved fine hay the same weekend.
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Good crowd in the Woodfield already. All the clare lads are stuck at the toll having a trad session
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Edit
As you were
What about the real hurling men wanting Thurles? They’ll be sickened
Beggars can’t be choosers I’m just delighted I can attend !!
Anyone selling a bag of cans?
This reminds me of an exact situation I experienced as a junior B manager. We were playing a neighbouring club in championship quarter final and the venue was fixed a bit of a spin from both us. We agreed we’d play it at their home pitch instead. We went back and walked all over the cunts.
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Set up shop out of a van along the Ennis road. You’ll be sold out in no time.
Just shows how confident Clare are of beating Limerick…
They’re firm favourites on form . Why wouldn’t they be confident?
Of course it does. They also know Limerick are dreadfully afraid of them.
Loads of premium available to buy for any game they are not all on ten year deals.
If you have a ten year ticket can put it back up for resale if not using it for a particular match as well
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Dry your eyes mate
Just need a good ref now to complete the occasion, John Keenan surely the man for the job.
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Limerick must surely be laughing
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Incredible stuff from Clare county board they will be ridiculed if they don’t win
Will have to buy the cans the night before such will be the demand on the day
They played Clare lovely here.
Like a fiddle.
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That’s a charming little anecdote and it’s one I can identify with. I have a terrible tendency to self-consciously do the wrong thing in situations I’m not familiar with, a tendency I inherited from my oul’ fella.
I’ll always queue in the wrong place or wait in the wrong place or go to the wrong desk, etc. If I’m in a pub I’m not familiar with I have to make doubly sure I’m going to the correct loo. I’m very bad in airports. I recall queueing for a flight about 10 years ago and suddenly I realised my boarding pass was nowhere to be seen. Where could it have gone? I then realised I had thrown something in a bin about a minute earlier. So I went back to the bin, reached down, and lo and behold, and there it was.
I think my favourite example of the sort of neurosis I was to inherit from my father happened on the morning of the 1990 Munster hurling final, Sunday July 15th, in a small church in Brussels. The Cheasty family attended mass after checking out of a youth hostel, and before we caught a train to Cologne. There were maybe 15 to 20 people at the mass.
We went up for communion. My oul’ fella did the usual, blessed himself after receiving and then returned to his seat, knelt down for a minute or so to say a prayer and then sat down again. However something was bugging him. The priest had accidentally handed him two communion hosts stuck together. My oul’ fella had separated them and consumed one of them, but felt very uneasy that he was now in possession of this second communion host. He appeared to feel as if he was committing some sort of mortal sin.
Just as the priest was about to resume the mass after the communion interval, like a referee, preparing to throw the ball in for the second half, me oul’ fella suddenly walks up to the altar in a sheepish manner somewhat reminiscent of how you might have expected Basil Fawlty to do so, and hands back the second communion host to the priest. As this happens, the four other members of the Cheasty family develop big red faces in embarrassment, faces as red as the jerseys of the winning team at Semple Stadium later that afternoon.
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