If anyone has ever trained for a poor club like I did then you probably
have experienced training sessions more like this.

After a players meeting held the Saturday night before, where all the
talk is about the lads given up the drink for the whole year & lads never
missing a training session, your approach this year renewed hope that it
would be different than the shambles that was last year.

You arrive in the door from work & forget that youve training in 2 hours
time & eat the dinner, followed by tea & whatever biscuits are still left
in the tin of USA biscuits from the Christmas.

No sooner do you stand up from the table than you remember youve to head
down to training, your brain hits overdrive as you try to think of an
injury that you possibly could have...that you only sustained in the last
48hrs, because as you explained to the players in the smoking room in the
local pub on Saturday night, youve never felt in better shape. Jesus that
was some session though Saturday night.

You decide that you better head down to training (sure it might not be
too bad after all its the 1st night back & the manager wont want to
torture ye...after all the players had no respect for him last year,
maybe hell go easy on you tonight while the other lads are running laps).
You grab the jacket & the gear bag & head for the door. You remember your
going without the fags, but you reckon your better off not
bringing them, after all you told the lads you were off them!!!

You pull in to the pitch & see lads sitting in cars looking out at some
lad whose setting out cones all round the field, you decide to head in to
the dressing room, show the lads how serious you are!!!

You wander in & find the manager & 3 selectors standing there
chatting...but if there in here, then whos out there putting down the
cones. They explain that theyve got an army lad in for the next 2 months
to get ye in good shape...you feel the spuds churning in your
stomach...something tells you, youll see them again before the nights out.

You break out the brand new gear & a few lads admire the new Puma boots
you bought, you inform them...there also the same ones Ciarian Whelan &
Munnelly wear. You check the cogs, which look like something NASA came up
with, but you reckon itll give you that extra yard in training.

You chat to the same lads that you only spoke to last year, the same
lads who arrived late last year, are arriving late as you head out the
dressing room door & into the bitterly cold January night air, it most
definately wasnt this cold earlier on.

You run on to the pitch & survey the cones laid out, its hard to know
exactly what sort of football drills this lad is likely to be using
here...you then notice that theres actually not an ONeills football in
sight. Your run slows down to a jog, then to a walk...no point over doing
it yet!!!

Training starts at 8, although its 8.15 & lads are still coming out on
to the field...little do they realise that everytime a lad comes after 8
your trainer adds on an extra lap to be run at the end of training by
everyone.

You start off training by running aimlessly over & back across the
field...every now & again the trainer shouts for ye to sprint...but your
already at full tilt to stay with them as it is. After 10-15 mins of
agony ye stop for stretching, this apparently was only the warm up...

After youve finished stretching ye proceed to run around the field for
what seems an eternity, but what the trainer informs you has only been 12
mins!!! At this stage your lungs are killing you & you regret ever taking
up smoking 40 a day, & your dinner is slowly working its way back up your
stomach!!!

Your also well sick of the county minor player lapping you on these
runs...who does he think he is? It comforts you a huge amount when you
discover that hes recently been dropped off the panel, yet still trained
tonight in th

In one episode of "Cheers", Cliff is seated at the bar describing the Buffalo Theory to his buddy, Norm. I don't think I've ever heard the concept explained any better than this . .


"Well you see, Norm, it's like this . .. . A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the heard is hunted, it is the lowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members.
In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Now, as we know, excessive intake of alcohol kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine.

And that, Norm, is why you always feel smarter after a few beers."