What's new pussycat?
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Pat Devlin is on the bus to Galway when I phone.
“Three more points!” I ingratiate.
“Don’t be talking like that!” he hisses back, as if I’ve just trodden on his favourite black cat. The conversation only continues after I promise not to mention the forthcoming evening in Terryland. I really want to talk about Conor Murphy who has just returned from assisting the national Under 19 team to the UEFA finals. Murphy’s the only recruit from domestic football and an automatic selection for the team. That’s because he provides his international manager Paul Doolin with exactly what he needs up front for the tactical shape he likes to play, explains Pat.
The half time score in Galway is an ominously slim one-nil advantage to the visitors. The scorer – Conor Murphy, of course. I raise a glass but realise that should Galway equalise Pat Devlin will hold me personally responsible.
The last time I went to see young Murphy play he was away with the Under 19s. Instead I got John Mulroy, who proceeded to give a superb display of how to lead a line. Time was when Bray Wanderers were hard pressed to find a strike partner for Tarzan O’Brien; now, apart from Murphy and Mulroy there’s McGuiness and O’Neill champing at the bit.
Indeed when Sean Houston, whose exploits as a boy striker are still revered in Finn Park, joined Bray during last season he could only win a place at left back. Now recovered from injury, Houston’s on the bench too, watching the fitness of an increasing number of crusading left backs; Devo has been known to field two in the same starting eleven.
Can you play in goal, Sean? Oh, hang on, the Seagulls have three seniors in that department too. You’ve got to hand it to Devo and his coaching staff. It’s not the money that has assembled such orchestrated talent and persuaded Gary Dempsey to take the midfield baton.
Bray duly bring all three points back from the west so it’s safe for me to go to the Carlisle the following Friday for the visit of Dundalk. I arrive at five thirty to find much shrugging and head shaking. The game has been called off because of a “waterlogged pitch”. It may have been waterlogged at the height of a rain storm a couple of hours earlier but it’s eminently playable now. The rain, unexpectedly, has ceased and efficient drainage has done the rest. In my playing days games were usually called off just before kick off; not ideal, I admit but certainly better than making a ruling four hours earlier.
Bray lose thousands of euro at the turnstiles and, since all the competing games go ahead, slip down the table without kicking a ball. Certainly the game will be re-scheduled but not on a Friday night so there will be a reduced attendance. Meanwhile the psychological edge of competing for second place has been reduced to mid table maintenance for the visit of Bohs the following Monday. Were Friday’s other venues subject to mid afternoon inspection I wonder? What is a level playing field? Don’t the administrators realise the game is in crisis? Is anyone listening? Less games, more training says Stephen Henderson in his column. Spot on. Why do you have to be involved at the coal face to realise this simple fact?
Monday, so despite East Coast radio’s trailer that the visitors are Dundalk (that’s next Tuesday, lads) it’s Bohemians at the Carlisle. Pat Devlin appears to bear me no ill will, even establishing me with a cup of tea out of the rain in a nice warm portable cabin. “If anyone asks you, say I put you in here!” he barks. He even makes the tea. Yes it is raining, it has done throughout the day and Richie Winter, who called off Friday’s match, is the fourth official. Fortunately he is not asked to arrive early. Most of Dublin’s soccer elite appear to be there too, Pete Mahon, Martin Russell, Paul Doolin, to name drop just three and Bohs’ former Bray keeper Chris O’Connor. He’s nursing a broken upper jaw, a broken lower jaw and minus quite a few teeth. He’s already had surgery and will undergo more including plastic enhancement of his smile. The only sympathy he gets on the internet is to be told he was too handsome the first place. Ask him if he’s only playing for the money. He’s a man of few words at the moment so listen carefully.
Both Murphy and Mulroy start and by the final whistle McGuiness and O’Neill have been sprung from the bench. But the striker who catches the eye is Bohs’ lone front man Christy Fagan who scores both their goals and gives Mitchell and Prendergast, to my mind potentially the best central defence partnership in the league, a difficult evening. Conor Murphy, by contrast, misses a good late chance to win the Seagulls a point. That’s football, hero to villain in a week.
Bray seem generally out of sorts putting together very little in the way of passing football leaving their young strikers feeding on scraps. I haven’t seen much of Bohs since they became the latest big club to implode under the impossible finances of trying to maintain professional domestic football. At least, unlike Sporting Fingal, they seem to be very much alive and kicking; Pat Fenlon has obviously done a good job on modest resources.
As for Bray Wanderers, you can only admire the earnest endeavour with which they go about making sure the show goes on. Like an old car that seems to do tremendous mileage on a whiff of petrol, the Seagulls may not be speedy but they get there in the end without breaking down. Indeed, a win against Dundalk on Tuesday and they’ll be flying high again. I think I’ll give my cat Hokie a saucer of milk. She’s black and it could just do the trick. If it does I must remember to tell Devo the points are down to me.
“Three more points!” I ingratiate.
“Don’t be talking like that!” he hisses back, as if I’ve just trodden on his favourite black cat. The conversation only continues after I promise not to mention the forthcoming evening in Terryland. I really want to talk about Conor Murphy who has just returned from assisting the national Under 19 team to the UEFA finals. Murphy’s the only recruit from domestic football and an automatic selection for the team. That’s because he provides his international manager Paul Doolin with exactly what he needs up front for the tactical shape he likes to play, explains Pat.
The half time score in Galway is an ominously slim one-nil advantage to the visitors. The scorer – Conor Murphy, of course. I raise a glass but realise that should Galway equalise Pat Devlin will hold me personally responsible.
The last time I went to see young Murphy play he was away with the Under 19s. Instead I got John Mulroy, who proceeded to give a superb display of how to lead a line. Time was when Bray Wanderers were hard pressed to find a strike partner for Tarzan O’Brien; now, apart from Murphy and Mulroy there’s McGuiness and O’Neill champing at the bit.
Indeed when Sean Houston, whose exploits as a boy striker are still revered in Finn Park, joined Bray during last season he could only win a place at left back. Now recovered from injury, Houston’s on the bench too, watching the fitness of an increasing number of crusading left backs; Devo has been known to field two in the same starting eleven.
Can you play in goal, Sean? Oh, hang on, the Seagulls have three seniors in that department too. You’ve got to hand it to Devo and his coaching staff. It’s not the money that has assembled such orchestrated talent and persuaded Gary Dempsey to take the midfield baton.
Bray duly bring all three points back from the west so it’s safe for me to go to the Carlisle the following Friday for the visit of Dundalk. I arrive at five thirty to find much shrugging and head shaking. The game has been called off because of a “waterlogged pitch”. It may have been waterlogged at the height of a rain storm a couple of hours earlier but it’s eminently playable now. The rain, unexpectedly, has ceased and efficient drainage has done the rest. In my playing days games were usually called off just before kick off; not ideal, I admit but certainly better than making a ruling four hours earlier.
Bray lose thousands of euro at the turnstiles and, since all the competing games go ahead, slip down the table without kicking a ball. Certainly the game will be re-scheduled but not on a Friday night so there will be a reduced attendance. Meanwhile the psychological edge of competing for second place has been reduced to mid table maintenance for the visit of Bohs the following Monday. Were Friday’s other venues subject to mid afternoon inspection I wonder? What is a level playing field? Don’t the administrators realise the game is in crisis? Is anyone listening? Less games, more training says Stephen Henderson in his column. Spot on. Why do you have to be involved at the coal face to realise this simple fact?
Monday, so despite East Coast radio’s trailer that the visitors are Dundalk (that’s next Tuesday, lads) it’s Bohemians at the Carlisle. Pat Devlin appears to bear me no ill will, even establishing me with a cup of tea out of the rain in a nice warm portable cabin. “If anyone asks you, say I put you in here!” he barks. He even makes the tea. Yes it is raining, it has done throughout the day and Richie Winter, who called off Friday’s match, is the fourth official. Fortunately he is not asked to arrive early. Most of Dublin’s soccer elite appear to be there too, Pete Mahon, Martin Russell, Paul Doolin, to name drop just three and Bohs’ former Bray keeper Chris O’Connor. He’s nursing a broken upper jaw, a broken lower jaw and minus quite a few teeth. He’s already had surgery and will undergo more including plastic enhancement of his smile. The only sympathy he gets on the internet is to be told he was too handsome the first place. Ask him if he’s only playing for the money. He’s a man of few words at the moment so listen carefully.
Both Murphy and Mulroy start and by the final whistle McGuiness and O’Neill have been sprung from the bench. But the striker who catches the eye is Bohs’ lone front man Christy Fagan who scores both their goals and gives Mitchell and Prendergast, to my mind potentially the best central defence partnership in the league, a difficult evening. Conor Murphy, by contrast, misses a good late chance to win the Seagulls a point. That’s football, hero to villain in a week.
Bray seem generally out of sorts putting together very little in the way of passing football leaving their young strikers feeding on scraps. I haven’t seen much of Bohs since they became the latest big club to implode under the impossible finances of trying to maintain professional domestic football. At least, unlike Sporting Fingal, they seem to be very much alive and kicking; Pat Fenlon has obviously done a good job on modest resources.
As for Bray Wanderers, you can only admire the earnest endeavour with which they go about making sure the show goes on. Like an old car that seems to do tremendous mileage on a whiff of petrol, the Seagulls may not be speedy but they get there in the end without breaking down. Indeed, a win against Dundalk on Tuesday and they’ll be flying high again. I think I’ll give my cat Hokie a saucer of milk. She’s black and it could just do the trick. If it does I must remember to tell Devo the points are down to me.
