At 5 am on Sunday morning, thousands of Irish people got themselves out of their beds and had house parties or just a few quiet drinks as they watched the great man himself, Conor McGregor.
The story of his fourth round defeat, and the subsequent ringside mayhem (that may or may not have been deliberately staged) is well documented by now, but what bothered me was the reaction of a friend of mine – albeit a bit younger than me, I will admit – who was angered by the fact that so many Irish people weren’t bothered by the Dubliner’s defeat. He accused us (because I am included in those who couldn’t care less) of being “begrudgers”. However, in my case nothing could be further from the truth. Before I am accused of being anti-Dub as well, I would be just as disinterested if McGregor was from Galway or Kerry, simply because his behaviour leaves me totally cold.
His outrageous carry-on and the personal verbal abuse that he subjects opponents to may well sell tickets to fund his multi-million dollar lifestyle, but anyone who says “there is a smell of s**** off your da” to an opponent is not worthy of universal loyalty and support. And so when an opponent reacts to a totally unacceptable level of abuse, let’s not act all outraged and upset. You reap what you sow. While I didn’t watch the fight, it seems McGregor got what his pre-fight antics deserved. As for the aftermath, the cynic in me would think that everything was staged, and that such scenes will lead to another multi-million dollar payday for both of them.
As a prominent Roscommon town businessman said to me earlier this week… how does McGregor’s behavior compare with that of a true icon, Muhammad Ali?
I am as proud of our top Irish people, sporting or otherwise, as any person is, but they should be aware of their standing as role models to our children, and if they fall down in that department, as McGregor certainly has, then they don’t deserve the iconic status that he and his followers think he should have.
Parking problems on recent hospital visit
It’s Friday morning and I’m heading for the hospital in Galway – which I still regard as the Regional but which is now one of the many university hospitals around the country – for a vascular scan, which in layman’s terms is a scan that will show whether or not there is any blood getting down to my feet.
Anyway, we drive in the main gate and the sign informs us that ‘Carpark 1’ is full, but there are at least twelve cars queuing trying to get in. The sign points us towards ‘Carpark 2’ where it says there are 14 spaces available.
So off we go to ‘Carpark 2’ where we found two cars ahead of us. All three vehicles had entered the carpark before realising there were no spaces left. While we were trying to figure out what was going on, an older man had driven up to the entrance and I went over to tell him he was wasting his time.
“It was the same yesterday,” he said “and I complained about it”. With that he drove in, abandoned his car, blocking at least two or three others, and disappeared! Maybe he went to complain again, but I never saw him after that.
The only place we could park was in a space reserved for hospital catering vans and we reluctantly did so, hoping against hope that we wouldn’t be clamped when we reappeared!
Now parking at many hospitals is a nightmare, but Galway is at another level and seems to be getting worse. I am no engineer, but with all the open space around the hospital would it not make sense to build a multi-storey car park? Just a thought.
Anyway, after all that, the good news was that the blood flow to my foot was pretty adequate, my cellulitis is hopefully on the mend and I expect to be back in the whole of my health before too long.
Speaking of cellulitis, I cannot believe the number of people I spoke to during the week who told me that they or a family member had suffered from the condition. Only this morning I heard a story about a young woman who had a major and very painful outbreak on her face and spent eight days on IV in hospital. Thankfully she is just home and well on the mend and all I can say to the many people affected out there is my heart goes out to you, it’s a horrible dose, and very hard to get rid of.
Signs of confusion in Claregalway!
There have been many times when I have given a bit of advice to Galway County Council, including complaining about the state of the road outside Abbeyknockmoy, and the T-junction on the Glinsk-Ballymoe road. I was therefore amused to hear a debate on Galway Bay FM as I was having my recent scan, about something I raised a few months ago; the new Irish signs for Claregalway, or ‘An Baile Clár’ as Gaeilge.
Apparently the new signage is causing all kinds of confusion, and people are getting totally lost. In fairness, as anyone with even a smattering of Irish will agree, how ‘An Baile Clár’ has anything to do with Claregalway is a mystery!
Anyway, it’s now a matter of major concern to members of Galway County Council, but I can justifiably claim I called it first. By the way, the road from Abbeyknockmoy has been greatly improved, but the Ballymoe T-junction is still an out and out danger!
As a consequence of my sore leg, I was not able to attend the 50th anniversary reunion of my secondary school, Cistercian College in Roscrea. What bothers me most is not missing the actual reunion, although attending would have been nice, but more so the fact that it is a full fifty years since I did the Leaving Certificate!
When I was still a student at the school, a few very successful past students, who were returning after fifty years, came back to talk to us about their lives and careers. I remember thinking about how old they were. Little did I know that my day would come too, and that before I knew it I would be one of those old men, not very successful and not invited back to talk to anyone, but still here fifty years later. How time flies!
Till next week, Bye for now!