Barrelhouse RFC - Ireland Tours

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Barrelhouse Tours to Ireland

This tour report covers the first ever Barrelhouse Tour to Ireland in 1994 for the Heineken Sevens, Kinsail. (It was written immediately following the tour, with the foresight that it would eventually be posted to a future website). It also covers the second ever Barrelhouse Tour to Kinsail, which took place the following year and followed pretty much the same format as the first. Our thanks go to MMI and Murphys Beer who sponsored all of the tours; a wise move by them as we proceeded to repay them via consumption, cheers lads!!!!!

Barrelhouse were in fact invited to participate in the Kinsale 7`s tournament due to member nbr 52, Paddy Matson will be remembered by some of the older members for his many years of service to the Dubai exiles and Gulf rugby in general. Paddy gifted the land that the Kinsale Rugby Club was built on and was an honorary chairman of Kinsale as well as an "H" BH member. Paddy was the kindest, biggest Irishman, with the loudest laugh I, (chair), have ever heard, regretfully Paddy died earlier this year.

A year or two later was the third ever Tour and that 's covered here too. Hell, it was so long ago there might have been a fourth for all we can remember. All I know is we've been to Kinsail as many times as England haven't won Grandslams in the last three years. Which matters not in the re-telling, because none of those attending were sober enough for long enough to recall much at all. Being asked to pen the report for three different tours is a challenge, especially if you can't remember how many times you went. Sure, it's easy to have a sudden fleeting memory of a great laugh … a try, a stage, a lamppost, a tackle, a breakfast, a boat trip, a trophy even … but it's harder to recall where you were, who you were with at the time, and what your name was supposed to be. So this is more a recollection of times in southern Ireland in the early nineties.

On each occasion, the Barrelhouse 1st Seven narrowly missed out on lifting the main trophy. Uncannily, in each of three tournaments, we managed to get drawn in the pool of death (half way through each game, everyone felt like death).

The first year, we made it into the Plate, proud to have maintained one of clubs longest traditions, (a tradition the class of 2000 and 2001 doesn't seem to recognise). The next year we bettered that by making it through to the Bowl, and the third year it was the Egg Cup or something. How we went on surpassing ourselves year after year is a mystery, and a credit to the dedication and commitment to our highest sporting ideals.

Unfortunately, we never managed to lift any silverware, and put this down to some pretty stiff opposition. Mind you, most of the teams we played, said that we were the stiffest opposition they'd seen and we took that as a compliment.

Kinsail is near Cork on the beautiful southern coast. The Sevens is sponsored by Heineken, attracts 80 or so teams and includes a very well supported Ladies Event. It's held over three days and well hosted by Kinsail RFC. The club is up on a windswept hill a few miles from the town … so everyone gets carted up there by bus in the morning, and carted back, much, much later. The first impression when you arrive at the ground to one of the largest beer tents you'll ever see is that the tournament must have just ended, and everyone has repaired to the bar for the party. True, except that the tournament has hardly started. Festivities carry on the whole time, and guess what happens if you miss the last bus home … you get stuck in the beer tent all night! Doesn't bear thinking about.

"It's always tough, being on a tour like this: - There's a lot of hanging around, dealing with formalities, endless training, worrying about selection, who will make the first team line-up, getting more and more nervous. Actually, we couldn't wait to get started, so it came as a relief to all of us, when finally, champing at the bit, we changed into our kit, and ran out onto the town to sample the delights of Kinsail. What a relief to finally get started. I mean, this is what we train all year for."

If you've never heard of Kinsail, you've never read chapter one of "The World's Best Pub Crawls". A place where 'See you at the next pub', means quite literally, 'I'm next door'. Sixty pubs, in a village with about five streets, and almost as many restaurants.

Of course, being Barrelhouse, we knew how important it was to get a good win under our belts and to get the tour well and truly on the road. So we followed the complex game plan of trying to sample all the pubs on both sides of the High Street, on the first evening. Result: - Kinsail 1 Barrelhouse 0. Next evening, we were less ambitious, deciding to sample all the pubs on the High Street on one side of the road only.

Result: - Kinsail 2 Barrelhouse 0. At this rate we were going to lose the series! Next morning, the brutal team talk pulled no punches. "Boys, we need to get this tour back on the road. A few of you lads need to ask if you're up for this. We're doing this for all the people who believe in us. Think of all the effort and sacrifices you've made to get this far!" We decided to start slowly this time, see what Kinsail could throw at us, and then counterattack, hoping that we our formidable touring stamina would see us through to dawn. Result: - Kinsail 3 Barrelhouse 0. It has been a white wash.

"If Barrelhouse is ever going to get on level terms with the likes of Kinsail, we are going to have to learn to party the way that they party. Regular fixtures are the only answer. It's debatable whether having shorter tours would also help, but there is no denying that the demands on the modern tourist are severe. We picked up a few injuries along the way, and the attrition rate was high. A few of the boys went down with stomach upsets, and we lost a few on the first night." … "You mean lost them to injury?"

"No, we just lost them."

Player's diary: - "Golf day. Hire an assorted bag of clubs and divide into three's for the Barrelhouse Masters, nine holes of various handicaps (running drive, putter only, one arm, one leg), in fact reminds us how we played yesterday). On to town for the evening, and a guided tour of the baker's shop (unscheduled) by the stunningly beautiful Sally … Sally? Who the f*** is Sally?

Rejoin the rest of the team. Finally end up in restaurant. Our best chance yet to pick up some silverware. Fail miserably to pick a fight. Forget to pay. Song. Argue about the way back. Count the team. Three missing. Were they at the restaurant? … What restaurant? Another song. Told we've done that one already, but sing it anyway because it sounds different every time, so no one will notice. Look round. They've all disappeared. Stagger off left. Find pub. No pink shirts around. Meet some lads from the Isle of Man who knew Jackson. Stagger on. Find the others again. Bump into Reading Ladies RFC. We think we're the stiffest opposition they've seen. They start singing. We take cover. End up running amok on the second floor of the hotel. Someone shouts "Follow me lads, we're surrounded." Only way out, down the drainpipe. Jump the last 6 ft onto the street at the front of a two-mile long queue for the fish and chip shop. It's 4 am.. Time we ate. Must get an early night. Next morning … wake up to go home.

If I knew I was going to fell this thirsty, I'd have had another pint last night. I swear I'm not coming back next year. Meet up to the airport. Hang about for ages:- feel like a fly-half waiting for a Jackson spin pass to arrive.

Fly home. All agreed it's a great place to visit. A well organised beer fest, with the bonus of some pretty decent Sevens thrown in. The hospitality has been immense, a fantastic atmosphere everywhere, and a beer tent rocking from start to finish. Weather? Rain or shine, didn't make any difference. Good tour? Not so much a tour, more of a session. One long glorious session.

Last pint of Murphy's upon arrival at Heathrow. I swear I'm coming back next year.

Anon.