Leaving Certificate Ordinary Level – Excellence in English Language and Literature
Sport
T ere were not many fi elds In which you had hopes for me But sport was one of them. On my twenty-fi rst birthday I was selected to play For Grangegorman Mental Hospital In an away game Against Mullingar Mental Hospital. I was a patient In B Wing. You drove all the way down, Fiſt y miles, To Mullingar to stand On the sidelines and observe me.
I was fearful I would let down Not only my team but you. It was Gaelic football. I was selected as goalkeeper. T ere were big country men On the Mullingar Mental Hospital team, Men with gapped teeth, red faces, Oily, frizzy hair, bushy eyebrows. T eir full forward line Were over six foot tall Fiſt een stone in weight. All three of them, I was informed, Cases of schizophrenia.
T ere was a rumour T at their centre-half forward Was an alcoholic solicitor Who, in a lounge bar misunderstanding, Had castrated his best friend But that he had no memory of it. He had meant well – it was said. His best friend had had to emigrate To Nigeria.
To my surprise, I did not fl inch in the goals. I made three or four spectacular saves, Diving full stretch to turn A certain goal around the corner, Leaping high to tip another certain goal Over the bar for a point. It was my knowing T at you were standing on the sideline
