CALEDONIA IS CALLING: OPPORTUNITIES IN EDINBURGH – PART FOUR
By Jonathan Foley
There’s no point in becoming an emigrant unless you’re making plans to improve yourself in some way. Going into my sixth year in Scotland, my plan was to put this theory into action for 2014.
An old proverb about expats is that we become ‘more Irish than when we were when we lived in Ireland’ and maybe – in my case anyway – there’s an element of truth to that.
Thankfully, I was now living in a much nicer flat than before. It was on Jeffrey Street, just a few steps off the Royal Mile and its top-floor window provided lovely views towards Princes Street and Calton Hill.
Unlike before, I had a roommate again – Angie – who was someone who I’d grown up with in Gortlee here at home. Of course, I’d cause the odd annoyance like leaving the toilet seat up or accidentally waking her when I banged the door too loud when coming in, but she truly was great to live with.
We both shared a similar laid-back sense of humour. We always stayed caught up on rent or council tax bills and we both had a profound interest in football. We’d take turns doing the bins and the dishwasher, and when one of us was working late, one would always throw on some extra dinner for the other.
One thing we used to enjoy was how easy it was to pay the heating bill. On the bottom floor of our building, there was a shop that specialized in baked potatoes – ‘The Tempting Tattie’ – so the heat from their busy ovens used to rise up into our flat and warm the place. Now that was a definite money-saver.
Essentially, we’d be the Joey and Chandler of Jeffrey Stree. In keeping with our Gortlee heritage, we even renamed the pub across the road after our own local back home. “C’mon now Sham, let’s go over to Swilly Two for a pint,” you’d hear.
Dunedin Connollys Ladies
It was also around this time that I threw myself back into gaelic football. With my thirties looming on the horizon, and maybe because of my everlasting admiration of Jim McGuinness’s coaching, I rejoined the Connollys GAA club in two roles: as Public Relations Officer and as a coach with the Ladies team.
I had already been great pals with Damien for about two years at this stage. He’d worked wonders throughout 2013 in organizing the Connollys ladies team into a thriving and well-run outfit. Along with Mike as his deputy, they had led this new team to becoming All-Britian Junior champions.
Alright, I’ll admit it. I had to do a bit of groveling for the lads to allow me in. Being the good guys that they are, the duo of coaches became a trio. Of course, sometimes they’d rib me as the guy who ‘pushed in’, but it was all in good fun. And, of course, they were going to make me crawl before I could
I helped set up cones, gather up footballs, and fill water bottles. Where we trained was a bit of a trek as it took a couple of bus journeys just to get there.
I kept fairly quiet for the first few weeks. Why wouldn’t I? Damo was the manager after all. Because there’d be so many new players who’d come in since my few sessions training them in 2012, I’m fairly sure there was a few mutterings amongst the girls asking “so who is yer man anyway?”
No player likes a new face bulldozing in and spouting ideas like some sort of know-it-all. Soon after though, Damo would throw me a challenge. “They’re all yours,” he’d say. Handing me his whistle.
Persuading Damo and Mike to let me join their backroom team was one thing. Winning over the players was going to be entirely different. A golden rule I follow in life is to never tell people you’re a good teacher or a good coach. You have to show them you are.
On the Ball
As a proud Letterkenny man, shouting orders at the lads down at St Eunan’s training was straightforward. Coaching ladies football needs a different approach. Verbally and accent-wise, I didn’t have the best start.
Instructional terms (from a distance) like “haul on tay th’ ball,” and “ye wanna knock ‘er on up the field, so ya do, hiy!” raised a few bemused eyebrows. Thank God above Angie, Bridgeen and Niamh – some fellow Donegalians – were there to help me out.
Early translation issues aside, the way I organised drills started to take shape. It didn’t take long for the girls to get used to who I was and what I was trying to do. As weeks passed by, they expressed how they enjoyed the way I’d run drills, encourage them and put a focus on action rather than talking all the time.
I was learning more too. While there were some highly-talented players in the panel, there were others who needed to be catered for as well. To me, everyone in the group had a role that was equally as important as the other.
As the new league and championship season drew closer, I sometimes took a step back and just watched how they conducted themselves in training matches. This group was something special. The way they could field high balls and push each other on was incredible. I could tell this team would go places.
As I got to know the players better – even if it was on a team bonding night at Malone’s Bar – I learned that a lot of them had played intercounty football at home. On top of that, others had gained great experience playing basketball, netball, and soccer too and their catching and kicking skills showed it too.
A fire lit inside me. I began to believe that this team – at the very first time of asking – could go all the way and become not only Scottish but also All-Britain Intermediate champions by the end of 2014. Maybe because I’d lost a county final with St Eunan’s as a player a few years prior, this was my new mission.
A Promise
One night, after training, Damo gathered the players to discuss something. It was about nothing overly urgent – maybe a fundraiser – but just as we were all about to wrap up for the night, I asked for the players’ attention for a moment.
Before I spoke, and I’m not much of a talker, I asked them all to put their arms on each other’s shoulders and to form a huddle.
I spoke for a few moments about how I admired their determination to come out this makeshift training facility that didn’t even have goalposts. Especially on cold nights which were common in Scotland. About how well they’d accepted me after ‘pushing in’, which I think Mike and Damo smiled at.
There were words about how “playing football gaelic football here was keeping us in touch with home. How we could do something that could make people, especially our loved ones back at home, feel proud of us. Especially the ones who we had to say goodbye to. We have to support each other just like a family.”
A few tears tripped some of their faces and I don’t think it was just the girls either. The word ‘family’ strikes hard with emigrants. I promised: “If we stick to what we’re doing, through the ups and downs that will come over the next few months, then we will be All-Britain Champions by the end of this year!”
And guess what? We did!
Jonathan Foley 