The Sporting Year: Review and Preview

It is a bittersweet thing indeed that the sporting year of 2012 ends on the death of Páidí Ó Sé. “Legend” is the most overused word in sports, but Páidí Ó Sé transcended the narrow bounds of that cliché long ago.

Where other men are legends, Páidí was an icon; others on that great Kerry of the 1970s were more admired and it’s possible Eoin “The Bomber” Liston was more loved, but nobody represented parish and people, the DNA of the GAA itself, better or more proudly than Páidí Ó Sé.

His bar in Ventry is a GAA grotto. The greatest cynic of that particularly Kerry cuteness that Tom Humphries identified as “the Republic of Yerra” could not help but be swept away by the aura of the place, the rich sense of the history tucked up against the Atlantic, where so much of the world’s history and culture was once stored, many hundreds of years ago.

Páidí Ó Sé’s life was short but few lives have been so full. Suaimhneas síoraí ar a anam Gaelach uasal.

In this year’s iteration of the football championship that Páidí Ó Sé graced for so long, Mayo lost; they always lose.

In hurling, the crown tottered on Kilkenny’s head as the All-Ireland final turned into its third and final act, but Henry Shefflin did nothing less than impose the majesty of his talent on the game. Shefflin moved to centre-half forward to dominate the game and rescue Kilkenny in their hour of greatest need of this decade they have dominated. Galway had no answer in the replay and Kilkenny continue at the very top of the tree.

Donegal were the best team in the football Championship of course. If you wish to see a team as being a symbiosis of coaching, talent and tactics, seldom can the three strands have combined as well as they did for Donegal this year. Donegal swept through the Championship as a burning flame, and nobody ever really made them sweat. It was a year of sheer dominance by Donegal from start to finish, like a racehorse winning the Derby from wire to wire.

Keith Duggan wrote a stirring call to arms for Donegal in the Irish Times in the week after the final, suggesting that they had it in them to dominate football for years to come. And it’s possible, but my goodness it’s a big ask. Only two teams have retained the title in the past twenty-two years, and the intensity of Donegal this year will surely be hard to replicate in 2013 – not least after a winter of celebration.

The current All-Ireland odds have Donegal as joint favourites with Kerry. This is a little surprising as Kerry are meant to be rebuilding, but then anytime the Championship seems wide open it’s the Usual Suspect that generally collects it.

Jim Gavin’s new model Dublin could be worth a bet at a best price 5/1 while it’s hard to know quite what to make of Cork in Championship terms. The Rebels are undoubted League specialists with their three League titles in a row and that can never be taken away from them. The League is the second most important inter-county competition after all.

Mayo are the last of the top five contenders at best price 12/1, shorter than they generally start seasons. After a semi-final in James Horan’s first year and a final in his second, there are only two places for Horan to go in his third year, and all Mayo prays it’ll be the good place rather than the alternative.

Mayo’s series of All-Ireland failures mean that the Championship for them is now a seventy-minute one, that doesn’t start until half-three on the third Sunday in September. Everything else is just a super-long League. It’s neither fair nor just, but that’s how it is.

Rugby has the excitement of a Lions tour next summer, which always adds a frisson for the home nations in the Championship. It’s hard to know how Ireland will do; the golden generation is now dead and gone and there is evidence for a reasonable campaign in the Six Nations and for an abject disaster. As ever, the first game sets the tone and Ireland’s campaign begins in Cardiff, where the Welsh are reeling from the effects of a disappointing summer and a particularly wretched autumn. We’ll wait and see.

2012 was an Olympic year of course, with Katie Taylor’s victory (and Seán Bán Breathnach’s marvellous commentary) the highlight for Ireland. Good for Katie but it’s fair to say, now that the dust has died down, that people got carried away hailing her as the greatest Irish sportswoman ever. This blog coughs discreetly, and suggests that honour remains with Sonia O’Sullivan.

In soccer, 2012 will be remembered as the year when the plucky Irish lost their major Championship innocence. After the drama of Saipan, the glory of America, the incredible, nation-building summers of 1990 and 1988, Ireland’s dream lasted just three minutes, until Mario Mandžukić headed home the goal that exposed Ireland as a busted flush.

The dream lasted as long as it takes to boil an egg. Ireland were humiliated and Giovanni Trapattoni’s reputation left in tatters in a series of nightmare matches. The best reaction was Liam Brady’s during the Spanish game, when the great man remarked that the majority of the Irish team had never played against the likes of the Spanish. They were as baffled by them as a Sunday league pub side would be.

And in the meantime, the supporters sang on. There was some vicious reaction back home to the singing, but in truth, what else could they do? There were people in Mayo jersies out drinking pints after the All-Ireland. Life goes on, and there’s always next year to dream anew.

Brush Up Your Irish with Katie and Seán Bán: Part 3 of 3

And here's the final part of the celebration of the greatest piece of extempore spoken Irish since God knows when. Seán Bán Breathnach's teary commentary on Katie Taylor's gold medal did more for Irish than a hundred studies or rubbish Departmental initiatives. I hope, in my own barely-competent way, I've taken some of the mystery out of the language so far, and people are looking forward to brushing up on the Gaeilge as Autumn falls. Anyway, back to the great man talking about the great woman.

1:35
Deich pointe in aghaidh a h-ocht, go h-oifigiúil anseo. Ó, dó a dó, sa chéad cheann, dó a h-aon ag Ochigava sa dara cheann, ceathair a h-aon ag Katie an triú babhta - sin é an ceann!

Ten points to eight, officially here. Oh, two-two in the first one, two-one to Ochigava in the second one, four-one to Katie in the third round – that was the one!

My Collins Irish Dictionary iPhone app lists six different meanings for the word “a.” It’s the language’s jack of all trades. You use it talking to someone (“a Sheáin”), as a preposition (“tabac a chaitheamh”), as a possessive adjective (“a athair/a h-athair/a n-athair” – his/her/their father), a participle with an abstract noun (“a leithéid,” as we’ve seen already), a relative participle (“an fear a bhris banc Monte Carlo” – the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo) and, as here, to count – a h-aon, a dhó, a trí. Phew! Why pile so much onto one one-letter word? I don’t know, but I wouldn’t rule out the Famine.

1:47

Tá sí ag breathnú suas sa spéir anseo - tá sí ag dul sásta go dtí na cúinne go gairid, tá sí ag cur an … dearg uirthí, tá sí ag dul amach as an fáinne anseo agus, a lucht eisteachta, dáiríre píre, … seo deor as do shúile. Tá sé an-deacair deor a bhaint as a chuid súile, tá sé ag tarraignt isteach ar cúig nóiméad tar éis a chúig, a lucht eisteachta, tá an stáir á dhéanamh.

She’s looking up to the sky here  - she’s happily going quickly to the corner, she’s putting on the red … she’s coming out the ring here and, listeners, honestly, [this would draw] a tear from your eye. It’s very hard to draw tear from your eye, it’s drawing in for five minutes past five, listeners, history is being made.

Stick a síneadh fada on the ‘a,’ of course, and you can get another day’s work out of it. This comes down to idiom – one of the reasons Gaeilgeoirs get thick about people translating directly from English is that it crushes the idiom that’s natural to the language. I’ve translated “tá an stáir á dhéanamh” as “history is being made” because that’s idiomatically correct English. But the phrase doesn’t literally translate at all – its construction is unique to the language itself. History is of the making, history is in the making, history has the making – something like that.

The big lesson here is when you’re working backwards. If you want to translate “history is being made”, don’t translate it as “tá an stáir ag bheith déanta.” A million fingers scratching one million miles across one million blackboards couldn’t be more horrible.

Why overload the “a” further with that fada? Musha Cromwell, don’t you know well.

2:14

Tá sé buaite ag Katie Taylor, 'sí Katie Taylor as Brí Chualann, sé bhliana d'aois, sé bhliana fiche d'aois, seaimpín Olympics don bhliain dhá mhile agus a dhó-dhéag. Le sin, agus mo cheainín bocht … go deo, le sin, ar ais … sa stiúideo.

It’s won by Katie Taylor, it’s Katie Taylor from Bray, six years old, twenty-six years old, Olympic Champion for the year thousand and twelve. With that, and my poor head … for ever ... back to the studio.

And here SBB, or what’s left of the poor man, wraps up and hands back to the studio. You’ll notice I’ve left out words in the past two extracts, and this is the most important lesson of all.

Reader, I haven’t a rashers what those words were. I couldn’t make them out. But here’s the thing – that’s ok. You’ve never going to catch all the words. Never. You can’t let the odd word here and there discombobulate you – as you may in fact be discombobulated just now by that most excellent jawbreaker. Missing the odd word is fine. Gaeilge, like golf, is not a game of perfect. Go n-éirí leat.

Brush Up Your Irish with Katie and Seán Bán - Part 2 of 3

Yesterday we got stuck into the first part of Seán Bán Breathnach’s epic commentary on Katie Taylor’s gold medal fight. Seconds out, round two!

0:30

Ó, a leithéid de bhean. Dúirt mé cheanna orthu, laochra na hÉireann - Maud Gonne, Gráinne Úaile, Mary Robinson, Máire Mac an tSaoí - tar isteach, seo í an bhean -

Oh, what a woman. I said already, heroes of Ireland – Maud Gonne, Gráinne Úaile, Mary Robinson, Máire Mac an tSaoí – come in, this is the women -

I’m not at all sure about the grammar of “leithéid de bhean,” but again, this is spoken in the white heat of excitement – we’re not always grammatical in English when we’re roaring. The tuiseal ginideach is here again – “laochra na hÉireann,” heroes of Ireland. Most people get thick when the British refer to Éire – Éire is the correct nominative form of Ireland in the Irish language. Surprise!

0:40

Tá an Rúiseach ag gáire - níl aon fhonn gháire ar an Rúiseach. Tá crá uirthí, tá colgach uirthí, tá sí lán d'éad, agus dúirt sí aréir go raibh deich pointe ag Katie sula dtiocfadh sí isteach sa bhfáinne ar chur ar bith. A leithéid de sheafóid! A leithéid de bhean. Katie Taylor!

The Russian is laughing – the Russian has no interest in laughing. She’s tormented, she’s angry, she’s full of jealousy, and she said last night that Katie had ten points before she got into the ring at all! What rubbish! What a woman, Katie Taylor!

Sofya Ochigava didn’t spare the trash-talking before the fight and SBB is inclined to take that stuff personally. When he sees her with a puss on her after the decision was announced he lets her have both barrels. Again, I’m not sure about two of the words, and I’m guessing “crá” and “colgach” – torment and anger. I’d say I’m fairly close.

“An Rúis” is the Irish for Russia, so “Rúiseach” is a Russian. It works for countries and for surnames, probably going back to when clans were their own states, more or less. Sasana, an Sasanach. Ó Brádaigh, an Brádach. Ó Ceallaigh, an Ceallach. Francach is a Frenchman, but it also means a rat. Puns exist in Irish too.

I’m not sure myself about the precision of the grammar in the last three of SBB’s sentences. But again, it’s spoken word and I’m not that clever, really.

0:58

Agus dáiríre, tá mé ag tráchtaireacht, a lucht eisteachta, le dhá scór bliain ach seo é an ócáid atá is giorra do mo chroí riamh sa tsaol, go bhfuil an bean seo 'théis craobh Olympic a thabhairt léi. Marach í, ní bheadh aon chraobh - ní bheadh aon bhean san Olympics.

And seriously, I’m commentating, listeners, for forty years but this is the occasion that is closest to my heart ever in life, that this woman is after taking an Olympic title. Without her, there wouldn’t be any title - there wouldn't be any woman in the Olympics.

This is where the commentary comes into its own, and SBB’s own personality comes out. The man’s a big softie, really. “Lucht” is a crowd, or group, so “lucht eisteachta” means “group of the listening.” There are no prizes for guessing what grammatical feature this is. Also here we see the phrase “tar éis,” after, contracted to “’théis.” Contraction is quite common in Irish, and we’ll see more of it.

1:16

Agus anois tá brat na hÉireann ag Katie Taylor, tá sí ag dul timpeall an fháinne. Sár-throid, níl aon cheist faoi cé hí an dara duine is fearr sa ndomhan - 'sí Ochigava an dara duine is fearr sa ndomhan, ach ag deireadh an lae, níl aon mhaith bheith ar an dara duine is fearr sa ndomhan mar 'sí Katie Taylor an duine is fearr sa ndomhan!

And now Katie Taylor has the flag of Ireland, she’s going around the ring. A fantastic fight, there’s no question who’s the second-best in the world – it’s Ochigava who’s second best in the world, but at the end of the day, it's no good being second best in the world because it’s Katie Taylor who’s the best in the world!

SBB is still pissed with Ochigava and her big mouth. Happily, it’s not all bad because here we see another of the primary features of Irish as a language – the fact there are two words for the verb “to be.”

If something is inherent to a thing, something that is essential to its very being, it’s rendered as “is fear é,” “is bean í,” – he is a man, he is a woman. If the something is something that can change, you say “tá sé caol,” “tá sé ramhar” – he is thin, he is fat. When Seán says “’sí Ochigava an dara duine” it’s a contraction of “is í Ochigava.” The two verbs for “to be” are another source of schoolroom torture, because there’s no equivalent in English. Spanish has the same system, yet it doesn’t seem to knock a stir out of them. On me head Xavi, on me head!

Phew. All worn out after that. Come back tomorrow for the last round-up.

Brush Up Your Irish with Katie and Seán Bán: Part 1 of 3

One of the many super dividends from Katie Taylor winning her gold medal was the opportunity for Seán Bán Breathnach to remind the nation of the inherent beauty of their own language. SBB’s commentary after Katie was announced winner of the fight has, in that awful modern expression, gone viral and people seem to be enjoying the emotion of it without actually knowing what the great man is saying.

So I thought I’d have a crack at transcribing, translating and commenting on the commentary, in the hope that it might help people who are trying to learn some Irish. This is slightly risky on my part, as verbatim commentary isn’t always correct in syntax or grammar. My own Irish really isn’t that great and there were parts of the thing I couldn’t quite make out myself but maybe we can use those flaws to our advantage too, and gain courage in the attempt. Seo chugainn anois - here we go.

0:00

Agus chomh ciúin - deich pointe in aghaigh a naoi - [béiceáil] Katie Taylor! Katie Taylor, seaimpín na hEorpa, seaimpín an domhain agus seaimpín Olympics anseo!

And so quiet – ten points to nine – [shouting] Katie Taylor! Katie Taylor, champion of Europe, champion of the world and Olympic Champion here!

SBB gets the score wrong at the start, but he’ll correct it later. Not that it matters – the detail is secondary to the achievement.

From the point of view of grammar, here we see the first occurrence of that notorious beast from under the bed that terrified your childhood but that gives Irish so much of its flavour, the tuiseal ginideach, or genitive case. English uses “of” to show possession. Irish doesn’t, but changes the word that’s being possessed instead. This is the tuiseal ginideach. So if “scoil” is school, school bus becomes “bus scoile” – bus of school.

Grammatically, changing a word according to its grammatical purpose in a sentence is called inflection. There are five tuisil in Irish, as there are in Latin. There are six in Ancient Greek, seven in Polish. The difficulty arises because English isn’t an inflected language – there’s nothing to equate it to. Also, the other tuisil don’t do an awful lot in Irish, and that’s what gives the tuiseal ginideach its Macavity the Mystery Cat air of omnipotence.

In the commentary, Europe is “an Eoraip,” but champion of Europe is “seaimpín na hEorpa.” World is “domhan,” champion of the world is “seaimpín an domhain.” There are a set of rules that govern this, and once you know them it’s really not that frightening at all.

0:15

Tá sé buaite ag Katie Taylor - a leithéid de thaispeántas arís, sa triú babhta sin. Tá sí fhéin agus Daide agus Billy, agus fear Georgia, tá siad ag baint barróige dá chéile.

It’s won by Katie Taylor – what a performance again, in that third round. She herself, and Daddy, and Billy, and the man from Georgia, they’re hugging each other.

There are two words here that I don’t recognise, so I’ve put in what I think are their nearest equivalents in the justly notorious Official Standard. “Buaite” is the verbal adjective form of the verb “buaigh,” to win, and there are those who will give you a fight that “Buaigh” itself not a right verb at all. We would not be Irish if we didn’t fight amongst ourselves.

The other word I’m guessing is “leithéid,” as in the likes of, the kind of – “ní bheidh a leithéid arís ann,” their likes will not be seen again. SBB seems to be saying “léide” here, which may be a Conamara equivalent of “leithéid.” It’s dialect – some people are thick about dialect in Irish and how everything should conform to the standard. That’s ok in textbooks but in actual living languages you must have dialect. To opponents of dialect, there are three words that crush all argument – Cheryl Cole, pet.

We also see our friend the tuiseal ginideach in this extract and one of the interesting points of Irish idiom. A verb in English that ends in –ing is called a participle – coming, going, and so on. In Irish, the giveaway is “ag” – “ag teacht,” “ag imeacht.” Where it gets interesting is if there’s a noun after the participle.

In English, we say we’re doing something. In Irish, we say we’re doing of something – that’s the difference. We don’t play football – we play of football, “ag imirt peile,” rather than “ag imirt peil.”

“Barróg” is the Irish for hug, but hug doesn’t exist as a verb in Irish. Therefore, Seán says collecting hugs - “ag baint barróige” literally translates as collecting hugs. It’s the way the Gael rolls.

End of Part One. More tomorrow - tuilleadh ar maidin.