It’s weird when you think about it – when you sit down and do the maths.
When you line out for Glenswilly Over 40s against Termon in a so-called friendly in advance of the Churchill Fair.
And there on the grass verge on the far side of the pitch away from the stand sit three familiar faces.
Murphy, Big Neil and Copper.
You do the maths in your head and allow yourself a smile.
“I could be their father.”
Murphy and Copper certainly but probably not the Big Fella.
When I was 20 and the best part of any football career behind me, Murphy wasn’t even able to walk nevermind give defenders nightmares the night before games.
That’s the difference.
If I was twenty years younger, I could give any of the three of them a rattle if they decided to come down off the verge.
Those are the fleeting thoughts that go through your head on a balmy July night in Glenswilly.
When Brendan Walsh takes the warm-up and you suck in the air as if you are 30,000 ft above sea level.
The dry ground beneath seemingly getting bigger by the minute.
The sweat dripping from your brow praying that the human JCB that is Liam McGettigan doesn’t happen to stray in your direction.
Or that Frankie Doherty won’t blow you up …..again…..for another badly-timed tackle.
You marvel at how well Paul ‘Sandwich’ Gallagher is looking for a man who must be just two more annual friendlies away from a half-century.
You’re thankful that Gerard McGrenra is on the sideline giving you encouragement instead of on the pitch marking you and giving you abuse.
You wonder if Brian McHugh will let you into goals to take the bad look off you.
And you wonder where the hell all the other 40 somethings are tonight like Martin Glackin.
And you look over at the three boys on the grass verge and they’re still smirking.
Lazing and laughing as Sunday’s Ulster Final brings its own questions.
If only I was 20 years younger I’d show them what I had.
Who am I kidding…
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