AS I stretched down to tie my shoelace to embark on my three-mile run around the local area on Tuesday night, I thought to myself: ‘Mark Poland is right.’
Mark is one of the grumpiest, nicest fellas I’ve met in my time in sports journalism, someone I got to know a little since the summer of 2010 when Down reached an All-Ireland final.
These days the first enquiry you make on the phone is about Covid-19 and how everyone is holding up.
Mark and I were on the same page.
Like a million other people, Mark found the incessant bad news and unfolding tragedy hard going.
He couldn’t overstate the courage of the nurses and doctors thrust into the front line to fight this deadly disease.
But he’d reached the stage where he said to his wife, Emer: ‘If it’s negative don’t tell me. Unless there’s some light I don’t want to know.’”
Lord knows, the last couple of weeks have been hard going for all of us.
You think of your own family and anyone belonging to you who is in the high risk bracket (who’s not high risk, really).
You think of your friends. You think of people who live on their own, with disabilities, with mental health issues, people who have loved ones in care homes. How difficult life must be for them.
Not a day goes by where I don’t think about an old neighbour of ours Josephine McQuade from Ligoniel.
Josephine is battling illness but her life philosophy would put us all to shame. She’s the one lifting the spirits of others.
And she’s a heart of corn. Back in the 80’s, Josephine and her family were probably the first ones in our estate who went to Spain for their holidays when the rest of us were slumming it in Bundoran.
But she always came home with a bulging suitcase full of white socks, y-fronts and tan-coloured belts for virtually every kid in the street.
So I’m thinking of Josephine.
You wonder about the homeless, the food banks and the volunteers, the front-line nurses and doctors and their families. What life must be like for them.
To the schoolteachers who are still in their classrooms teaching the kids of key workers: solidarity.
You think of the GAA clubs and their members packing their vans with food and domestic supplies and doing a million drop-offs around the local area for those who need it.
I received a tweet from an Ardoyne Kickhams volunteer, Sean Curran, who said: ‘Brendan, out helping our local community with Ardoyne GAC tonight. One elderly gentleman just wanted The Irish News and a pint of milk. Easily pleased! Going to make sure we get him a copy every day.’
These are emotionally charged times. Days of fear, anxiety, hope, anger and fear again.
And yet, every single human act of kindness we see or hear about restores our faith a little.
They make you a less sceptical. That there is more good than bad in the world. And that we just might recalibrate and change the way we think about ourselves and each other when this terrible crisis passes, and it will pass; that there is one big soul out there that we all belong to.
Amid the merciless cruelty of this invisible disease, there have been many inspiring little pieces of video posted on social media, none more so than John McEntee’s 34-second clip.
It was typical McEntee: to the point and not a syllable wasted.
Perhaps closer than he needed to be on his phone, John said: “Hello my fellow Gaels. I have four simple messages: Stay positive by accepting your restrictions and make the most of your new-found time. By accepting that not every day may be a good day but understanding tomorrow will be better. Help others particularly the elderly. Keep in touch by telephone, WhatsApp, Zoom, whatever means you have. Look out for others and keep well by sleeping well, hydrating, eating good food and exercising daily, and most importantly: keep the faith.”
In the days and weeks ahead we could do worse than heed John’s simple advice. It’s a life philosophy that will make the road easier.
So, without further ado, I’ve decided to play my part in trying to lift the mood of our readers, if only for a short time. While I was out running the other night I was trying to think of something funny that happened during my 21 years with The Irish News.
One stood out above all others. The story below is a word-for-word account of me trying to purchase a hamburger with onions and red sauce – sounds straightforward, doesn’t it - in Ballinascreen back in November 2008.
I’ve decided to reprint this yarn from The Boot Room archives…
MY visit to the little townland of Ballinascreen last Sunday will live long in the memory. Well, not so much Ballinascreen itself, but the eccentric hamburger seller outside Dean McGlinchey Park prior to the Ulster Club Championship match between Ballinderry and Latton.
He was a man in his early 40s trying to make a harmless few quid off local patrons. With time on my hands, I fancied a bit of local cuisine. I could see the modest burger stall – the only one in sight – wasn’t doing any business, so with some loose change in my pocket and my stomach rumbling for food, I ventured over to the stall and ordered a hamburger with onions.
What followed was, well, surreal. Remember, there is just the hamburger seller and me. No-one else is around.
This unforgettable encounter lasts around two minutes. So, imagine you’re there...
Me: A hamburger with onions and red sauce, please?
Eccentric hamburger man: No problem (five seconds pause). Do you want cheese on it?
Me: No, just onions and red sauce (five seconds pause).
Eccentric hamburger man: Okay. No bother (he flips the burger twice). Nice day for it, eh?
Me: It’s good for November.
Eccentric hamburger man: Sorry, did you say onions?
Me: Yes. And red sauce.
Eccentric hamburger man: Sorry, I’m not with it today, heh. So you just want onions?
Me: Yes (another pause).
Eccentric hamburger man: Did you say cheese as well?
Me: No, just onions (pause). Were you out on the beer last night?
Eccentric hamburger man: If only I was (pause). Do you want your onions well fried?
Me: They’ll do grand.
Eccentric hamburger man: No cheese?
Me: (slightly irate now) Definitely no cheese! Just onions and red sauce! I don’t want cheese!
Eccentric hamburger man: I’ve got red sauce and mayonnaise?
Me: No, just red sauce...
Eccentric hamburger man: No mayonnaise?
Me: (slightly amused now) No mayonnaise, thanks. He hands me the burger with onions and red sauce.
Eccentric hamburger man: That’s £3.
Me: (for a bit of a laugh) Where’s my cheese?
Eccentric hamburger man: Jaysus, I forgot. Did you say cheese?
Me: No. I’m only joking...
The hassle of ordering a burger in Ballinascreen was worth every priceless second. They were the best burgers this side of Clones.
Keep the faith…
