Next Sunday every kind of Mayo fan will cram into McHale Park. Think carefully before you choose your neighbour writes Trevor Watson
OPTIMISTIC OLLIE
The true believer. Sees the bright light at the end of every dark tunnel and the silver lining in the blackest of rain clouds.
Likely to be wearing:
Every scrap of green and red material to be found in his house (or his neighbour’s house), jerseys, flags, hats, headbands, umbrellas, etc.
Likely to say: ‘Best team yet, good young lads this year’. ‘I saw him scoring 1-7 in a challenge in Dungarvan in January, he’s a dinger!’
Will eat: Anything he can get his hands on as long as it doesn’t disrupt his pre-match routine which involves him getting to the ground long before even the teams arrive.
Routine for the day: Up at 7am. A good breakfisht[sic]. Get Sunday papers. Call Spillane a b******s. Head to Castlebar at 11am. Enter ground at 12.30. Match starts at 4pm. Try to find team hotel afterwards. Have ten pints of ‘Special’. Get air-lifted home at 9.30pm.
PESSIMISTIC PETE
Mr The-glass-is-always-half-empty. Even if Mayo beat Kerry by 15 points in an All-Ireland semi-final, he would expect us to lose to Carlow in the final.
Likely to be wearing: Black peaked cap (doesn’t like the sun), black rain jacket (doesn’t like the rain), fleece scarf (doesn’t like the cold). And sunglasses (Just in case)
Likely to say: ‘Take him off, he’s useless (after ten minutes). That’s it, I’m finished with them. That manager hasn’t a clue.’
Will eat: A mug of strong coffee and four silk cut purple for breakfast while giving out that there were no sausages. Ham samwiches (sic) out of boot of car after game. And 20 purple.
Routine for the day: Get up late.
Complain. Decide to go to game at last minute. Complain about price of ticket. Search the concrete for a discarded match programme. Complain about price of same when has to buy one. Complain when team loses.
Go home and watch The Sunday Game. Complain again.
GLAMOROUS GLENDA
WILL be the TV3 camera-man’s favourite. Had a romantic rendezvous with the star forward last Christmas in ‘Coppers’ on a night out in Dublin and is chasing his ghost ever since.
Likely to be wearing: High heels and lots of pink Ralph and Tommy shirts with over-extended, super-elevated collars
Likely to say: ‘What’s a fifty?’ ‘I shouldn’t have left the umbrella in the X5’.
Will eat: Fresh fruit and freshly squeezed OJ for breakfast. Dinner with star forward that night in romantic restaurant (or Rocky’s) in Castlebar (hopefully!)
Routine for the day: Up at 6am, start getting dressed. Finished getting dressed at 3pm. Late for match but look good. Go out of way to meet star forward after game.
LUNATIC LUKE
The one guy absolutely nobody wants to be beside. Doesn’t have a clue about football, or his team. Thinks Willie Joe should still be midfield for Mayo.
Likely to be wearing: Quite literally, anything. From the opposition team jersey to last night’s drinking clothes, to the head of the fella sitting next to him.
Likely to say: ‘Shut up or I’ll take the head off ya’. ‘Why doesn’t he bring on Willie Joe?’ ‘I’ll tell ya the backs are doin’ well’.
Will eat: Leftover Chinese food for breakfast. A burger on the way to the ground. A mars bar and four bags of Tayto at half-time. A burger coming out of the ground. A Chinese takeaway on the way home from the pub that night.
Routine for the day: Up late. Eat whatever is in fridge. Stand on main road waiting for lift. Get the loan of a ‘beige’ at the pitch as wallet is ‘forgotten’. Leech onto neighbour outside ground and wrangle lift home.
NEUROTIC NUALA
The other extra-audible supporter who thinks her vocal influence will help management switch the full-forward to full-back, or something equally as ridiculous.
Likely to be wearing: Her son’s 1994 Mayo Minor substitute tracksuit top. Jeans and runners.
Likely to say: ‘Aaaaarrrgghhhh, will ya kick it long’ or some other randomly inane statement that she picked up stewarding when Mayo played a challenge game at her club last March.
Will eat: Roast beef, mash, three veg, jelly and ice-cream at about 10.30am that morning just, as Pat Shortt put it, “to have a clear run at the day!”
Routine for the day: Get up. Get family up. Cook dinner. Remove 1994 Mayo tracksuit top from safe and head to match. Complain afterwards that her Johnny is every bit as good as that number 7, and he’s only 32 yet and ‘playin’ great shtuff for the club’.
