Kick Racism out of Football - A success story

Sporting heroes - the best campaigners for equality

Last week my son came home from school and said that some FAI footballers had visited the school. He didn’t seem as excited about the event as I thought he would have been and he went on to say that they hadn’t come to talk about football, but simply about racism. My son couldn’t understand why footballers needed to talk about this as an issue. Earlier that day I had opened up the notebook that I use for jotting down ideas for essays and found a few pages of my son’s handwriting. He has a typically boyish habit of creating imaginary fantasy football line-ups. His teams included names such as Robinho, Fabregas, Torres, Cole, Boateng and Podolski amongst countless others. All spelt correctly and including accents and umlauts as appropriate. It was a reminder of how much football has done for multi-culturalism.

My son has grown up in a world where sporting heroes come from all over the world, and are idolised and respected without prejudice; hence his failure to comprehend why footballers today still need to campaign on issues of racism. My son innocently assumes that racism does not really exist any more.

I explained how football was back in the 1970s when I used to go to football matches on a regular basis. Black players were only just starting to appear in the teams, and they were not universally welcomed, even by the supporters of the teams they played for. The seventies weren’t really that long ago, but it felt like we were discussing the dark ages, and I guess we were. My husband played semi-professional football during this time, and he added his own memories of horror stories of fans throwing bananas onto the pitch and chanting like apes whenever a black player got near a ball.

We are still a long way from total equality, but I think it is a measure of how successful the campaign to kick racism out of football has been that some of today’s children question why it is needed.

Economically speaking

Fear not, I won't be starring in a tragic opera anytime soon

There is a traditional and romantic image of writers being poor, malnourished creatures living in a draughty garret, in Paris or some other place of cultural renown. They spend their time huddled around the dying embers of a coal fire, scratching out a living, leaving their writing only to drink cheap red wine with other artistic types. They will die cold and alone, probably as a result of alcoholism, or tuberculosis exacerbated from smoking too many Gauloises.

My life is not that shabby, although I do share a predilection for wine (or Guinness) and socialising. But having given up my job in the NHS to follow my husband to Ireland to further his career, we are now living off one salary, and my three million job applications have not been successful – yet. It is great to have the time to devote to my MA and to my writing, but it is a little tiresome to have to be so mindful of a much reduced income. Whilst we are far from poor, we are not in the position to be extravagant; and there really isn’t anything romantic about that.

At least we are not alone in this situation. Ireland is going through some serious economic difficulties and the news is depressing to watch most of the time. In amongst the increased violent activities of the dissident IRA, there are numerous stories of companies going out of business, people losing their homes, threatened hospital closures, and droves of young Irish graduates leaving the country to try their luck elsewhere.

To cope with the reduced spending of consumers there are frequent sales and bargains galore in the shops, so I don’t think that clothes and food are very expensive. Public transport is also far cheaper here than in the UK, so there are some bonuses. But considering people have less money to spend there are some strange pricing tactics for some leisure activities which I find seriously annoying.

The new Aviva stadium opened this year, to replace Lansdowne Road, as the home of Irish rugby. I love rugby and was lucky enough to procure tickets for the Ireland v Scotland match in the six nations this year. It was one of the last matches to be played at Croke Park, a far bigger stadium that was packed for this event. I doubt we will ever get a chance to see an International rugby match again as the prices for the new stadium are extortionate. It would cost a minimum of 240 euros for two adults and a child to see a match and with a smaller capacity, fewer seats are available. So I fear I will never get to see Brian O’Driscoll in the flesh again.

The Irish Rugby Union are stressing out about the possibility of important matches being aired for free on national television, instead of the pay-per-view situation we have now. They are naturally concerned about the loss of revenue. However, I think that the general public will respond quite favourably to this vote-winning tactic, as at least ordinary people will get to see the match. Sport should not just be for the wealthy.

But even to do something far more mundane like go to the cinema is also a tad expensive. Two adults and a child costs over 30 euros. It would have cost around £15 when we lived in Shetland. One game of ten pin bowling also costs around 30 euros, which for 30 minutes of entertainment is just a bit too much. It is perhaps not surprising that any time you visit the cinema or the bowling alley they are virtually deserted. The Aviva Stadium was also half empty when it staged some international friendly soccer matches a few weeks ago. Proving the point that when you charge too much, people will vote with their feet.

Ireland still has one of the highest birth rates in Europe and a proportionately young population, a fact that it celebrates. But these young families must find it such a struggle to afford fairly ordinary treats. A trip to the cinema was quite a big deal when I was a child, but surely in this era when numerous films are released each week and most cinemas have a choice of around 10 films to watch, we should be able to take more advantage of the situation. Surely it makes sense to charge less and attract more people.

It feels very elitist. I know that libraries, museums, parks and the countryside are still free to visit, but it is very sad that many young people cannot access the full range of cultural activities that are available.

As I write I am sitting on the bed with the laptop on my knees, with the Ireland v Slovakia match on the portable TV in the background. Downstairs, hogging the sofa and the other TV is my son who is watching the England game, and running up and down to keep tabs on the Ireland score. It is not Paris, but it is perfect enough for me. I could do with a glass of wine though.

The confidence of youth

Irish teenagers

Sunday morning is devoted to Under 12s football and this weekend we travelled to an away game at Donabate, North Dublin. We gave a lift to two other players, and so there were three 12 year old boys sat in the back of the car, and since my son is new to the team and does not know the other boys well, I imagined the journey would be rather quiet.

But instead my husband and I were subjected to an interrogation and banter about everything from favourite musicians to where we came from, taking in along the way, favourite holiday destinations and best jokes. The opening gambit to my husband went along the lines of “so, my Dad’s big into Elvis; what’s your “thing?” When he admitted his “thing” was training for a 2011 Iron Man challenge, this was met with much hilarity and general teasing, mixed with admiration and curiosity.

It was an entertaining journey, to and from the match, and it made me realise how much more confident children are these days, to when I was the same age. At the risk of sounding ancient, kids just did not behave like that in my day. They (we) were shyer, quieter and less inclined to take an equal, much less a dominant, role in a conversation with unfamiliar adults.

I remember reading a recent article in an Irish newspaper about the phenomenon of Jedward, and how these two exuberantly confident young men were fairly representative of Irish youth, brought up to believe in themselves. Jedward aside, it is lovely to witness such confidence, especially when it is combined with good manners and kindness. The article compared Irish teenagers with those raised in Britain, and the assertion was that Irish teenagers are given a better deal. In Britain there seems to be more of a feeling that teenagers are not to be trusted. They certainly don’t normally get much of a good press.

I have often wondered how different my life could have been if I had had even a fraction of the confidence that today’s young ones have. Self-belief is key to the success of so many things; careers, creativity and relationships. But one thing I can be grateful for; I have two confident and brilliant sons, who don’t need to waste valuable years playing catch up with their self-esteem.

Self-publish and be damned

A couple of weeks ago I got chatting to a writer in Eason’s bookshop in Dun Laoghaire. He was doing a book signing session for his book Gurriers. Seeing that he looked a trifle lonely I got chatting to him and he told me about his book which had taken 10 years to write and was a novel based on his experiences as a motorcycle courier in Dublin. This sounded like an intriguing idea for a book, so I purchased a copy and he duly signed it for me. It turns out that he had paid for the book to be published and he explained how he had done this and why.

I have heard many people say that self-publishing is not the sensible option for a serious writer as it gives the impression that you were not good enough to be taken on by a “proper” publisher. I have no strong feelings on this, but self publishing is quite expensive and I am not confident that I would have the energy for all that self promotion and marketing. However, while speaking to Kevin Brennan, I was struck by the amount of joy he had received from seeing all his hard work in print. And it seems that his book was going down well in his network of friends and fellow couriers. He had enjoyed the publishing process so much he was now embarking on a selection of short stories.

We chatted a little longer and I told him about the Masters course I was doing and my ambitions to be published one day, and shared with him some ideas about raising his online profile, which he appreciated. I left the shop with a rather large novel to read and a smile on my face.

The book itself is a weighty tome, think “A Suitable Boy” and you’re nearly there. And there is no doubt that some might think that it could have done with some judicious editing for length and pace. However, it is not without a certain charm. The characters are great, the plot is crazy, funny and realistic in turn, and the language is pure Dublin. It has definite commercial appeal, so it is a shame that Kevin had to resort to self-publishing.

But it definitely gave me something to think about. And I have decided that if I fail to get my novels published through the normal channels, then one day I will give serious consideration to whether or not to self-publish. It is not call vanity publishing for nothing, but I don’t want to live with the idea of giving up on my ambition to see my work in print. And I would like to leave something of me behind for my family. I wonder what my great great great grandchildren would make of Dancing with the Ferryman or Peace Lily in years to come.