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Poem

The Club

History quietly beckons, There’s anticipation in the air, A nervous, but insatiable excitement, Club colours everywhere.

Days like these are precious, We pray our club will win, And if they do, euphoria, Then the celebrations can begin.

It’s raw and all-consuming, Where battles are lost and won, Where communities come together, And declare themselves as one.

It breathes emotions both good and bad, Moments we’ll never forget, Memories that will last a lifetime, Amidst the joy and the upset.

It’s personal to us all, For me, it evokes memories with my Dad, Of all the finals we’ve been too, And the joy and craic we’ve had. Memories I truly treasure,

Many more, I hope we make. And I hope, someday, in a county final, I’ll see one of my own partake. So to the victors, go the spoils,

To the losers, don’t feel outdone. Because if you're a part of your GAA club, Then in many ways, you’ve already won.

- The Club

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