The Shit Stirrer

The scourge of all clubs.

Has no role in society, let alone a GAA club other than turning up at the club's general meetings, dressed in their Sunday best and wreaking all sorts of cumbersome havoc. As footballers they were in general, disgustingly hopeless and with a pair of arms and legs that refused to work together in harmony on the pitch they spent their careers wrapped up in a good big overcoat on the line belittling the efforts of their team-mates on the field and vocally cursing the mentors who had the sense to keep them off the starting fifteen.

Their resentments are built up over the years and anyone who ever crossed their path is subject to their pent up vitriol. Will seethingly complain about everything in the club from selectors to assistant-treasurers, have a penchant for refusing to accept democratic decisions at all levels yet will never offer to do anything constructive for the club and even buying a monthly €5 ticket is beyond their limited capabilities.

Are completely selfish and only seem to care about themselves and their brothers/sons/nephews within the club - all of whom are a milder version of the general Shit Stirrer.

Have a deep hatred of all neighbouring clubs, referees and most of their own clubmates yet in most cases never receive the widespread condemnation they truly deserve.

The Idiot

If a club only has one such character they are something of a mundane outfit.

However, it is usually the most lunatic character within the club's environs that gains this unenviable title. Can be seen at championship matches pacing up and down the line frothing and foaming at the lips of his mostly toothless mouth and shouting all sorts of impenetrable obscenities at the referee, linesman, players from both sides and supporters.

Will be among the first people in the dressing room before a big game, will reappear again at half time and at the end and will be very forthright in his much-maligned opinions. He will more than likely have changed his tack later in the local after a few pints of the black stuff and couple of half ones yet will always swear by his views.

In most cases this raving lunatic doesn't own a car yet there is always someone available to prop him up in the front of their vehicle and bring him to his required destination.

Whenever the opportunity arises he will serve as linesman and his arm always signals the same direction - in favour of his team. He will more than likely cause some sort of row but has an uncanny knack of being able to disappear when the going gets tough.

The Saviour

Every club in every county has one - if they didn't they would have ceased to exist long ago.

He is the man in the club that does everything - often without a title to his name. He arranges games, he lines the pitch, puts up the nets, pumps the balls, opens the dressing rooms, turns on the showers, brings the water, jerseys and first aid kit, pays the ref and locks up afterwards. He informs all the players of all the necessary details and if the game is away his car is bursting at the seams with players, supporters and club officials.

Often he will train an Under-10 team on a given evening in the field, finish up in time to select the Junior 'C' team, and end up being forced into action himself because of a lack of numbers before rushing to a County Board meeting as the club's delegate and then back to the 'local' to co-ordinate the monthly draw.
On the rare occasions that this individual falls sick or goes missing for a couple of days the entire club falls into disrepute and scenes of chaos ensue.