“I honestly, honestly say, hats off to the lads that can do it… I was pulling my hair out on the sideline mad to get on.. when I saw the lads fighting so hard, I did nothing for that Munster championship… I felt empty afterwards, I think every player should feel the same, you should feel empty… I felt empty, I felt sad I felt angry, that’s only natural, you know.”
Ken McGrath on the GAA hour talking about sitting on the bench for the Munster Final in 2010.
I appreciate Ken’s honesty and often wonder why more players don’t admit the same feelings. It’s bloody weird feeling being a sub, especially when you’re not used to it. Ken was used to man of the match awards in finals and being the main man, then found himself looking on from the bench.
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The great Ken McGrath joins @Woolberto
Declan Brennan talks Club Players Associationhttps://t.co/UEWvcJ9Dq9 #TheToughest @AIB_GAA— GAA JOE (@GAA__JOE) October 19, 2016
I had a phobia about being a substitute right throughout my career. I believe I was either allergic to it or it’s a disease I have and there is no cure. Whenever I discovered I was a substitute I would act like a petulant child. Time and experience didn’t improve my condition either.
In 1999, in my second year playing senior football, Tom Cribbin announced the Laois team for the Leinster championship quarter-final against Westmeath. I wasn’t on it. I was in shock, I had never been dropped before on any team up until that point. I had no prior warning, had been on the team all year but suddenly I was out.
My reaction was to leave the meeting and never go back. I was in Chicago the following week.
I could put that immature reaction down to youth but fast forward to 2011 and I was at the other end of my career. Justin McNulty wasn’t picking me. I had made a comeback to Laois after two years out, trained incredibly hard, was in great shape but hadn’t featured in either of his first two league games in charge.
I called him out of the dressing room.
“Justin, I’m putting in a huge effort, training really hard and I’m ready to go. Whatever about not starting you’re not even giving me a few minutes.”
“Colm you’re part of the panel and you’re no different to the rest of the lads looking for game time.”
“Well if I don’t get any game time in the next game against Antrim I’m done.”
I didn’t get any game time against Antrim and was done.
McNulty rang and left a voicemail asking to meet up but I didn’t call him back. I wasn’t for turning. I was 31 and smart enough to know it was the wrong reaction but I couldn’t help it. It was obviously my disease.
Not only did I hate being a sub I disliked other subs, especially when they didn’t want to bitch and moan about being a sub with me.
There are different types of subs on the bench.
Newbie subs like Ken who spend all their lives on the field didn’t know whether they were coming or going in the new environment.
In and out subs who knew the drill, they were always subs but always got game time and were happy with that.
Injured subs who were more relaxed because they convince themselves they’d be on it if they were fit… and then of course the lifer subs.
Lifer subs were basically fellas who scraped onto the panel. They’re delighted to be there, they know they won’t get on the field but they don’t care.
I hated them. I’m on the bench hoping someone has a bad game so I’ll get on and they’re cheering every score, catch and block like supporters.
When a team I was on won a final I would see the lifer subs running onto the field to celebrate and I’d avoid them. I didn’t want to hug them, I preferred celebrating with fellas that helped us win.
Later that night I wouldn’t really entertain them either, they had their own group anyway and would really be enjoying wearing the county t-shirt or tracksuit top.
Bitching about the manager was my favourite pastime on the bench but I’d have to be careful who I was bitching to. Say something negative to a lifer sub and it could easily get back to management. Newbie subs would lend a sympathetic ear. I remember sitting on the bench with Ian Fitzgerald and Stephen Kelly and one or two more newbies against Dublin in ‘06.
Relations between myself and the management wasn’t great and I was bitching as usual. Ian said he wasn’t too annoyed because Micko told him he was first sub on. Then Stephen said Micko told him the same thing.
We asked a few more and they were all told they’d be first on. The bitching turned to laughter – Micko hated confrontation and promised lads the world to avoid it.
Around the mid noughties the embarrassment of benchwarming reached new heights when subs were asked to warm up throughout the game. Everyone except the lifers hated it. Firstly because you missed five minutes of watching the game and second because your were parading the fact you were a sub to what felt like the whole world (for me at least considering my disease).
I usually point blank refused to go.
“Have you gone Wooly?”
“Yeah, I was in group two.”
Of course I’d get caught and be forced to go so I’d jog down to the corner flag and do some calf stretches. Not the ones you bend down for, the standing straight one that doesn’t really stretch much but it looks like you’re doing something productive.
The game has changed now and being a sub isn’t as bad as in my time. It’s a more inclusive panel game where 20 or 21 of the squad see game-time in every championship match. That helps morale amongst the panel and fellas seem happier to accept being on the bench as a result.
Bernard Brogan said after being dropped for the All Ireland final replay this year, “you have to do your bit for the team. And if that means sitting aside for a while and give 20 minutes [off the bench] that’s what you have to do.
“I’m mature enough to accept that… and delighted to be on the wining side.”
Maybe Bernard knows the cure for my disease.
In the latest GAA Hour, we talk to Ken McGrath of Waterford and with Declan Brennan about a new club players’ association.
