Musgrave Mayhem.

The rain beat down incessantly, shimmering ‘neath the floodlights in the night sky and the car park made Lake Delia by Raving Hill look more like a small duck pond. Not much had changed at Musgrave Park over the years and the old ground certainly did look a damp and dreary place.

Mind you, times had changed elsewhere. Mr A T Henry’s low lying fields had obviously all been sold, for a tidy sum it appeared, for the natives were all driving around in Beamers and Mercs. And the weemen had all turned blonde.

My wee fleg hung limply by my side as I queued to gain entry. Not for me the grandiose arrival of Colinh in his gleaming limo. But I did have an appointment to keep, so I was early.

The mobile phone rang. It was Jennifer. “Hi, where are you?” she asked.

I’m locked outside, by the East Terrace”

“Sure aren’t you the daft laddie, you’re at the wrong side. Come over to the Dolphins Club House."

The iron gates swung open and I trudged along the coastline where the car park used to be. Colinh cruised past in his amphibious car, on his way to some pre match regatta no doubt. I rang the reliable Jennifer.

“Hi, where are you?” I enquired.

“I am standing in front of you....” said the attractive blonde who had just answered her mobile phone.

“Could you do me a big favour,” I blurted out. “The man from Satan TV is supposed to meet me here but he has left his tickets in Dublin. And he has four VIP’s with him as well.”

Just then my other mobile rang. (It is de rigueur to have two mobiles in Cork.) It was Satan himself! “Just hang on – I’m pulling all the strings I can find – here – speak to Jennifer…”

And with that the attractive blonde took my other phone and disappeared in the direction of the Musgrave Park Offices. (Apparently it is chique for blondes to have three mobile phones when at rugby matches…)

Unknown to me, at that very moment, a certain ticketless Ulster fan was peering through the bars of the other big gate, trying to gain my attention. (No need to worry though – the Fat Controller had everything under control and slipped a complimentary stand ticket his way. Great chap!)

Presently the smiling Jennifer returned, with my other phone, and with a man who claimed to be Declan Kidney. “This is the nearest thing to Declan that I could find,” explained my new found friend.

“Pleased to meet you,” I said, not knowing if this was really the real Declan Kidney. “And pleased to meet yourself”, replied the Declan Kidney look alike, grinning as if he already knew the result of the Annual Musgrave Park Maul. “Where are the rest of the Ulster lads?”

“Oh, they’re still in the city centre,” I replied. “They are running a bit late. Had to stop off at the Victoria Hotel to pick up a chap from Holywood whose name no one can spell.”

“Enjoy the game,” Declan’s double added, before handing me a rather bulky brown envelope. “This is for you boys from the North,” he said, explaining the function of the Munster Beer Tokens. “We have a keg of Heineken set aside for you upstairs in the Dolphin Bar!” And with that he was off to have his photie took.

“Did you get Satan sorted out?” I enquired of the lovely Jennifer. “Yes, here he is now!” And with that a well dressed Dubliner appeared genie like, clouds of steam drifting heavenwards. (“Ghost riders in the Sky,” I thought.) “Hi, sorry I am late, must dash, I’ll meet you after the game.” And with that he slipped away into the crowd. Staring after him as he walked across the flooded car park I swear I saw the water bubble and boil beneath his feet……….


Did kimble really meet the real Declan Kidney?

Did ding dong2u ever find out what was really in the Heineken Barrel?

And how do you pronounce ArdtogetintoMusgraveParkwithoutaticketmichael?

Tune in next week for another gripping installment of Musgrave Mayhem

This Scoop exclusive has been sponsored by the Royal Cork Yacht Club – when in Cork try not to get out of your depth.

 

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