Nancy and I were going to the Kilmacud Sevens long before it was fashionable, and, in the early days, the two of us often stepped into the breach to referee matches.

The routine is always the same: on the road before dawn, drop Nancy off at Leave It To Louise’s on Capel Street for her All-Ireland mani-pedi and wax, and shoot out then to Stillorgan for the first round of matches, or, if we’re early, give them a hand to line the pitch.

Nancy won the Sunrose Cup in ‘64* and brings a brown cake with her for the tea-room.

"The mighty thing about you, Nancy," Tommy Lyons once said to the two of us, as we held her up by the ankles while she fastened the nets, "is that you’re a GAA man to your backbone. You wouldn’t see Cantona on £7,000 a week doing that, would you?"

When he walked away, Nancy asked me who he was. Tommy, that is, not Cantona.

I was a dab hand at the Sevens myself, and still have the suit of clothes we won at the Newcastlewest Sevens in 1959. There were seven of us from the one house that day: myself, four brothers, one sister who stood in goal because she was getting out of the bilious fever at the time, and my father, just coming into his prime – as anyone who knows their stuff can tell you, Sevens is a game based on strategy not athleticism.

I was reminded of that unalterable fact as I watched seven Meehan brothers from east Galway warm up in Kilmacud a few years back. They had Dec buzzing one way, Enda darting another, Noel dummying left to go right, and a few more working up a terrible sweat: "a complete waste of energy," I said to Nancy, who complained of dizziness.

The oldest lad Seamus didn’t leave a four-yard square patch for all three games, not even for the half-time changeover, and he was far and away their most effective player. He held up possession at one stage for 12 minutes, right through half-time, with the best exhibition of static soloing I’ve ever seen.

They were 0-1 to 0-0 up at the time. In Sevens, you have to be able to defend a lead.

If he hadn’t gone down with bad cramp, they would definitely have won it that year, though I was not so incautious as to mention that when presenting the cup to the seven O’Neills from Aghada.

Emo had me over this week for a session and they look good, if a touch too lively, but this year I fancy Tarbert not to miss the boat. We have the matching ponchos packed but hopefully the rain will hold off.

As I always joke performing the ceremonial ‘throw-in’ in the opening match, "may the oldest, slowest, cutest, craftiest, wiriest, contrariest team of the lot win."

That always gets a good laugh and sets the tone for a great day.

* For those of you too old to know, the Sunrose Cup was presented to the winner of the All-Ireland Brown Bread Baking competition, hosted by the ICA. I later stuffed the winning cake and it remains preserved for all time in a glass case in our front parlour, beside Sean Murphy’s 1959 jersey. I wouldn’t part with the code for the alarm for love nor tickets.

Noel will track back, if he has to. Email This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it ; visit www.knowledgeablenoel.com; Skype (knowledgeable.noel); and Facebook (Knowledgeable Noel.)

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