Continuing from last time, we’re going back in time to our first visit to Ireland, when I played in the Handball World Championship Tournament. Unbelievably, (at least to me), I had made it to the 4th round. The next match would be in a place called Muckalee, so Muckalee here we come!
After my Irish handball history lesson yesterday at Ballymore Eustace, we had our eyes peeled for handball court ruins along the way. Sure enough, we spotted one. No doubt about it. We’d probably been driving past old courts like these for the past three days, but who knew? (Photos of many more old handball courts, or “alleys,” as they were called, here).
Muckalee for Me!
We’d had nothing but sunny days since we arrived in Kilkenny, but it was cold and misty when we arrived at the courts in Muckalee. Cold outside, but warm and toasty inside. It seemed like half the village had come to see the day’s matches.
Cute little ladies served hot tea and scones to anyone who wanted one. (I’m sure those scones were home-made that morning). People there treated us like we were long-lost Muckaleeans who’d returned home after traveling afar.
Maybe the smell of those scones put my head in a good place, because I managed to win again. That meant I’d play in the semi-finals tomorrow in Kilkenny. Wow. Was this really happening? We celebrated that night in a pub where a bunch of guys sat in a semi-circle playing traditional Irish music. Aye. ‘Twas a splendid evenin’ indeed.
Time for the Semi-Finals
Next day. Time for the semi-final matches. The courts at the Gaelic Athletic Association’s sports facility in Kilkenny were nice. Spectators could watch from galleries upstairs, taking up the upper portion of the back wall.
I met my opponent – a big, strong Irish guy who was twice my size. When we entered the court, the gallery was already packed with his pals. They were a raucous bunch. They were cheering him on, and the match hadn’t even started yet. Geez. I felt like I was a piece of red meat being thrown into the lion’s cage.
Let the Games Begin!
We started the match. This guy hit the ball HARD. His favorite stroke was the classic “Irish whip.” To do it, you stand upright and swing your fully-extended arm around like you’re a windmill. (Think of The Who’s Pete Townshend playing guitar on “Don’t Get Fooled Again.”) You make contact with the ball at your hip, with maximum power.
I had no chance against this guy. I was getting clobbered. And even though my opponent was coasting to victory, his goons upstairs were cheering him on as if we were battling neck-and-neck.
“Ya got ‘im down!” they yelled as they leaned over the railing, half-way into the court. “Dohn le’ ‘im up!” And again… “Ya got ‘im down! Dohn le’ ‘im up!”
I looked up at my petite Better Half, who was also up in the gallery. I gave her a look that said, “How about a little encouragement here? A little noise, perhaps?”
She gave me a nervous look back that said, “I ain’t sayin’ anything!” I wouldn’t have said anything, either.
The situation didn’t improve. He went through me like a knife through soft Irish butter. For me, the tournament was over. I guess that’s what I get for making it all the way to the semi-finals. At least I saved my previous opponents from this ordeal. I’d be OK. The mental scars would heal. Maybe. Someday.
Kilkenny Recap
Aye, but what a trip it had been. Driving around that beautiful countryside. Meeting the nicest people in the world, (unless you’re competing against them). Learning about the history of the game of handball in Ireland. I knew the Irish brought handball to the States back in the day, but I had no idea…
Ireland is famous for its writers and poets, some of whom have put their pen to paper to write about handball. In leaving Kilkenny, and to the memory of that trip, here’s a poem about Irish handball written by Arthur Ainger way back in 1887.
Song about Handball
Smooth and Square and dry the wall
White elastic around the ball
Two on that side, two on this
Two hands each to hit or miss
What more need one possess
For good hours of happiness
Send the service slow and high
Hold your tongue and mind your eye
Turn and twist, duck and dance
Volley when you see your chance
Hit them hard and hit them low
And your score will upwards go
Aces after aces get
Shun the unprogressive let
Slowly, surely onward crawl
Set the game at twenty all
Hinder call not honour but
Honour gained by mouth well shut
From the moment you begin
Do your level best to win
Cheer your partner wipe your shoes
Keep your temper, win or lose
If you miss , don’t be vexed
Bad luck this time, better next
Oft you think that after all
What is life ? – a game of ball
Partners to their partners true
Courteous to their rivals too
Here and there alike the aim
In the end to win the game
Let handball its lessons teach
Hit all balls within your reach
If you fail and feel the pain
Don’t abuse your rivals gain
Everyone can win who tries
For the effort is the prize
To be continued…
“Song About Handball” can be found at: http://handball.tipperary.gaa.ie/club-executive/committees/history (history of handball compiled by Paddy Collins)
