It's remarkable, really; these are major league sports, filling stadiums with over 30,000 people, securing large television contracts and endorsement and sponsorship monies, and yet the guys who put in the most work, the athletes who grind out games, who punish their bodies, get paid nothing? At least American college players get an education out of their indentured relationship, and some harbor aspirations to turn pro after their 4 year limit of servitude is up. But these guys, they get nothing, save the occasional personal endorsement deal and random hurling groupie. Judging by the talent on hand at the stadium, it probably isn't all that much.
Along with this notion of amateurism is the weird relationship sponsors have with teams, and it's something I never liked about European sport. In trying to find a jersey for Sunday's game, I perused a number of shops and sporting goods stores, trying to find a Dublin hurling t-shirt. But finding any logo apparel beyond a jersey was neigh impossible. In fact, walking into the stores was like walking into an advertising booth at a commercial fair. Every team jersey available, no matter the sport, was only emblazoned with the team sponsor so that the end result is that you because less a fan of a particular squad, but more of a walking billboard for Vodafone or Air Emirates, or whatever the sponsor of choice may be. All I wanted was a simple jersey to identify myself as a fan of my chosen team. But being unable to find a Dublin t-shirt and unwilling to pay 50-65 for the privilege of advertising Vodafone's mobile service, I left without buying a product.
The other thing that struck me in the store was the lack of identification of any of the local teams. Hurling may be the national sport of Ireland, yet in Dublin seeing a jersey worn in public beyond game day was highly unlikely. Inside the store, the racks of merchandise were more likely to be filled with products from the large and most popular European soccer teams. It was vexing and ultimately annoying. I mentioned to several clerks that if this were a shop in the States, every rack would be filled to the brim with various gear from the local sports teams, professional, college, or otherwise. None of the girls I asked had a satisfactory answer. To add to the frustration, nearly every store had three American baseball teams' t-shirts and hats; the Yankees, White Sox, and Dodgers were in every store. I don't know if it's the its the predominance of tourists from those three cities, the fact that they're the three largest markets in the United States, or whether a long history of Irish emigrating to each place (heck, the owner of the Dodgers was the O'Malley family for a number of decades. Even the current owner, Frank McCourt, has strong Irish roots).
The other interesting piece about the jerseys is that befitting their amateur status, none of the jerseys had a player's family name on them. None of the jerseys worn in game did either. As a result, I wondered how fans identified with these players. Nearly every other commercial sport has a players name on the back of the jersey. How else to create brand identification and fan loyalty but to have them wear the same Manning #18 that their hero wears every Sunday. I would chuck this nuance up to the players' amateur status, but during the course of the game, fans exhorted specific players by name, "Come on, McKinney!"
In regards to the game itself, hurling is simply fantastic. Even with the dog of the game that we saw, Kilkenny dominated throughout, winning the game, SCORE. There is something to be said for the speed of the game. It's not quite as fast as hockey (ice hockey to the Irish), but it's loads faster than soccer or American football. Beyond the speed of the game, I noticed two things during the course of action on the pitch.
Though somewhat physical in nature, hurling is not a violent game, despite being played with rather large sticks known as hurls. When collisions did occur, they were most often shoulder to shoulder, and no one ever really laid anyone out. [link to Darrell Reid hit] Most of the players are roughly the size of a soccer midfielder. They're small, incredibly quick, with lithe frames. Hitting is somewhat discouraged, with red and yellow cards as used in soccer. The hurlers are tremendous athletes, as they must have a remarkable field of vision and immense recover speed, especially when a punch and run offense is employed.
The second thing I noticed about the game itself was the lack of an offside rule. Nearly every other sport of this nature employs an offside rule, designed to prevent teams from cherry picking on offense. But as one kind father at the game with his kids explained to me, there's too many players on the field, and the game just moves too fast. If an offside rule was employed, the game would crawl to a standstill.
As I mentioned, the crowd would often yell a player's name in exaltation to attempt a goal or play a better defense, but that combined with the phrases, "up the Cats" or "up the Dubs," dominated those cheers. In comparison to the songs sung at soccer games, or the myriad of cheers screamed at an American football game, especially collegiately. Hurling seemed a bit tame in comparison. Sure, fans were exuberant and boisterous and maybe it was just the overall politeness the Irish show, but the crowd was largely absent of vicious, blood thirsty wails urging the team to victory. There were no personalized jerseys or signs or any differences in costume, i.e. a fan dressed in cat regalia to root for Kilkenny. The whole affair was really rather civil (if it seems I may be disappointed by the lack of fan-on-fan violence and raucous taunting, you're probably right.) Which is odd, considering the game's name.
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