The Ireland Dispatches

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In a book of old photographs from the late 40’s, there’s a group of photographs showing a crowd of men on a road. In weird postures, they’re throwing a ball down the road, and looking very excited over it.

Those guys are still out there.

On the Clonakilty-Enniskeanne road, traffic is stopped, and people are milling about. I think it might be an accident. Instead, I’ve stumbled across a sport that happens only in Cork. Road bowling. No place else, even in Ireland, is odd enough to have thought this up. Now this is not a genteel Saturday afternoon in the out of doors. This is intense, raw competition. The crowd of 20 or so men (can you imagine women up to this sort of thing?) are as enthralled with the action as if this were the final game of the World Cup.

The rules are thus: several men heave small iron balls down the road eight times. The competition migrates down the road with the balls. The one who throws it the furthest wins. Official looking men with chalk and clipboards keep it sorted out. Pride and wagers are at stake.

The last competition of the evening is between two men who might as well have been in that original Dorothea Lange photo. One is 90, the other 86. They have coaches. "Now now, watch that dip over on the left, keep it just to the right of the line now," advises one. Someone lays a clump of grass on the roadway as a target point. The coach motions it left or right, as though the wind direction is the critical competitive edge. The men line up on the verge. Everyone wants a view. The windup, the run, the arm cants backwards above the head, and the throw! The ball bounces hard once, then flies true down the center. "Ya, ya, ya,ya,ya,ya,YA, YA YA YAAA!" Go the men. "Mighty fine. Fine throw!" You’d think it was Ireland in the discus throw at Sydney.

"It’s mighty fine you’re getting photos, we’ll not see the likes of these two again," They tell me.

30 October 2000

Enniskeanne, Co. Cork