On Canada Day, we drove Beatrice on her longest run ever, out to the Burnaby Rugby Club. Pulling into the club, we saw a gaelic football game on our right, a cricket match happening to our left, and after parking and walking along a path, we found the Irish hurlers. Such a wealth of imported sport in such an odd place.
Rocco's cousin is currently living in Seattle and plays for the Seattle Gaels hurling team. Apparently everday Canada Day long weekend the Burnaby complex holds a tournament for various sports, hurling included. I won't bother explaining hurling except to say that its closest approximation on this side of the pond is probably lacrosse, but it looks more like field hocky on steroids. It has nothing to do with drinking except that it is customary to go for a pint or many after a game to rehash the details! Seattle whupped the Vancouver Harps; they've abviously been doing some very good training.
Here is Rocco and his cousin posing like they've both been hurling for a donkey's years (only true in one case):
I had never held a hurley in my life, and I didn't want to make a fool of myself in front of any of Rocco's family, but I did bat a sliotar (the ball) about a bit on the end of a hurley. The day was searingly hot but gorgeous, and it was a lot of fun to sit in our comfy camp chairs and watch a bizarre, vicious, and pretty cool sport. Yay for cheerleaders who hate to play team sports!