WHILE spectators will be gladly anticipating a welcome return to National Football League action this weekend, I can practically guarantee you the players are looking forward to it even more.
Many county management teams will have used the break to get a little endurance work under their belts. Personally, I always hated a long break in between league or Championship matches because that’s when the so-called real hard training would fit into the calendar. You could just see the fitness coach or the sadistic manager almost salivating at the thought of the pain he was going to make you endure for the next few weeks.
For me there was no worse sight than a footballer turning up to a beautifully floodlit pitch on a February evening and seeing a multitude of cones with not a bag of balls in sight. A sinking feeling of gloom and despair would envelop myself and any of the other members of the ‘less-than-athletic’ brigade, who I would never name publicly (you know who you are Fred, Reidy and Houli).
There was only one thing worse than the dreaded field with no balls. That was the announcement that we were going to meet in strange venue in some car park to a forest or the like, which I knew meant don’t consume a big feed the night before or that morning. That was particularly tough for me because I was an expert at the eating.
I don’t think there is a forest park or beach within a 60-mile radius of my home that I don’t associate with me being on the verge of absolute exhaustion with some jumped-up, loud army major of a fitness freak shouting at me to run faster or further, not knowing that my frame was built for comfort and not speed.
I remember one particular early Sunday morning training session in Ravensdale Park when a route of about a mile-and-a-half had been laid out and we had to run it four times. I decided after lap one, while lumbering in solitary confinement at the rear, that I would seek solace in a bush until lap four, where I would rejoin the posse in the hope that it would go unnoticed and that it would look like I was finishing strongly. I must have dozed off, before returning to the car park to find out that everyone had returned to the club we met at for their shower.
There are a number of disappointing issues in that story other than just my bluffing. Like the fact that the management team hadn’t cottoned on to the fact I was missing after lap one. And also that when they were leaving after the session none of the panel and management team knew I hadn’t even finished, leaving me to walk to a phone and ring for someone to collect me.
There is only one thing worse than endurance running and that is endurance running on sand. And whilst most people associate a trip to the beach with absolute fondness, and with sun-loungers, warm weather and ice creams, my recollections are somewhat different.
I think it was Jim McCorry who took us to the dunes in Newcastle. I can nearly taste the sand in my mouth as I recall the misery of those sessions, which started off as individual sprints up the dune. The likes of Barry McCabe, John Rafferty and Martin McQuillan glided effortlessly over the sand, whilst myself and a few others were taking two steps forward and three steps back.
Near the end of one of these energy-sapping, merciless Sabbath mornings, in a conscious effort to inject some fun into the session, I remember being asked to pair up to do piggy-back races up the dunes. For some, that might have been fun. But for myself and the person who got me it was going to be anything other than pleasurable.
Needless to say I got paired up with Mark Grimley, who was about 6’ 5’’ and 16 stone. I can still hear the laughter as I, who had struggled to transport myself up the dune, was forced to carry a giant of a man whose feet were still trailing on the sand when on my back.
Suffice to say if I was still on that dune now I still would not be at the top with ‘Grimbo’ on my back. I suppose it was hard to motivate myself to run long distances knowing that the only time I ever ran on a pitch was on the run-up to take kick-outs, or on one Championship encounter in Omagh when I sprinted off the pitch when a few less-than-amorous Tyrone supporters were hurdling the wire
post-match to vent their anger at a few of my mischievous actions that afternoon.
Times and training have changed considerably since then. And while many counties will have used the last three weeks to gain more muscle bulk and fitness, there are three Ulster counties who probably would have needed to spend some time on footballing matters as they badly need their first win.
Down have it all to do against a Kerry team who also sit pointless in Division One and even though Eamonn Burns’s men showed a marked improvement against Monaghan in their last encounter, the Kingdom travel north with probably their strongest panel to date.
Cavan have been unfortunate in only losing narrowly to Tyrone (two points) and Derry (one point) but I expect them to gain their first points at the expense of Meath away on Sunday. Armagh sit in a very precarious position at the foot of Division Two and you get the feeling that with a tough run-in to come anything less than two points against Fermanagh could possibly spell a return to Division Three.
At the minute, the Fermanagh forward line, led by the two Corrigans and Sean Quigley, looks the most capable of getting scores and what is a concern for the Orchard county is the lack of three-pointers - in their last five matches they have only raised the green flag once.
Armagh have had three weeks to lick their wounds and prepare for battle and against the exact same opposition in the same venue last year it ended in a draw. This time I fancy they will go one better, but not by much.
