 Call this a controversy?
“Noel,” said Nancy to me, the other night, “it doesn’t take much to be a crisis those times. It must make you laugh, and all you’ve seen in your time.”
And, indeed, it does. In my time involved in the GAA, I’ve been called upon to resolve many seemingly intractable rows all over the country. Bendix Washing Machine Affair? The Battle of Omagh? Tony Hanahoe’s suspension? The RDS Affair? The Pick Axe in the Kit Bag? Charlie Redmond? Semplegate? Three Stripes International?
I was there for them all. The one thing I brought to the table was a cool head. Listen to all sides. Find the common ground. Take all opinions on board. I remember the time Croke Park sent me over to East Westmeath to sort out a club difficulty that makes the current Crisis in Cork seem a very minor affair. All other avenues had failed, including an intervention by the President of the GAA himself.
In a nutshell, the winter grazing rights to the club pitch had rested with a local GAA family for many generations. This caused no great difficulty until there was a serious split within the clan – and, as luck would have it, one brother was chairman of the club, and the other was secretary. Both tried to lay sole claim to the grazing rights. I was greeted by a dramatic stand-off on the day I arrived to mediate: on the field were hundreds of disinterested sheep picking at the thin cover of grass, the two brothers herding them from around the 21-yard line at either end of the field, and over 500 people up on the embankment to watch the unfolding drama, some of them maintaining an unhelpful chorus of whistles, baahs and maahs. Also in attendance were photographers, reporters, and a sleepy-looking RTE man I’ve since seen interviewing indignant town councillors on Nationwide.
It was a desperate scene. Immediately, I took stock, and counted 479 sheep. I turned bleary-eyed to Nancy in the passenger seat and said “We’ll be doing well to get out of here with a result.”I always try to think laterally in these situations and when the county board chairman – my host on the day – casually revealed himself to be gainfully employed in the local office of the Revenue Commissioners (Agricultural Section) I saw my opportunity.
“Gentlemen,” I said to the two brothers, when I summoned them to the halfway line like two captains up for the toss, “congratulations on your impressive flocks. A credit to you both, and a great way, too, for the club to keep the pitch in trim during the winter.” They eyed me curiously, and each other not at all.“I trust,” I continued, “that all of these fine animals are documented in the appropriate manner with all the relevant agencies of the State, and that this fine club here can in no way be held culpable for any Revenue implications that might arise now, or at any time in the future.
What I’m asking is, in essence, if both of you gentlemen have your houses in order, so to speak? “Do you know what I mean?”I immediately sensed they did. Chairman brother took a slight step backwards. Secretary brother listed sideways. A deflated sort of look came over both of them simultaneously. They looked thoughtfully over towards the 1985 Apparition Memorial Stand. There was a long silence. I knew it was a high-risk strategy, but I reasoned it was as well to be hung for a sheep as a lamb.
Eventually, the pregnant pause was punctured by a few low mutters of “this has gone on long enough” and “life’s too short for this crack”, and, to accompanying cheers (and, ungraciously, further maahs, whistles and baahs) from the assembly, the sheep were herded off the pitch, the club returned to normal functioning, and, from what I know, the venue hasn’t seen a hoggit’s dropping from that day to this.
Neither have the brothers spoken since, but restoring filial harmony wasn’t part of my brief on that occasion. The GAA is like a big family, and, we have to be realistic about this, family relations are sometimes sundered beyond repair.So where, you may ask, is the relevance in all of this for the Crisis in Cork? Well, what I’m saying is that the solution often lies right in front of your eyes. Move away from the point of conflict.
See the bigger picture. Visualise the taxman arriving in your yard – or Liam or Sam not turning Paddy Barry’s Corner in 2008 – and, all of a sudden, things come into sharp relief.I don’t think I can be any clearer than that. I’m here if you need me. But surely what I outline above will point the right direction for all involved.
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Man to Man 
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