I was mad into GAA when I was at school - I never played a huge amount of football, but I absolutely loved hurling.

Donegal is not known as a hurling county, but in the late 80s and early to mid-90s, the club of Burt, where I played, was definitely stronger in hurling - or hurley as we called it - than it was in football.

I have some lovely memories of playing under age. I can’t remember what U14 competition we won back in 1991 and, as a reward, the whole team was taken on a trip to Dublin.

We stayed with and played a match against the Erins Isle club in Finglas, we also played a second match against another neighbouring club, got to go shopping in Dublin and then - the icing on the cake - we were taken to watch a match in Croke Park.

No small match either, the All-Ireland football semi-final, in which Down beat Kerry before going on to win the All-Ireland that year.

Noise and atmosphere

I’ll never forget the noise and the atmosphere on walking out on to the stand for the first time and the chant of: “up Down, up Down”- it was just an unbelievable experience.

I also often reminisce of playing in the Féile na nGael in 1992 in Galway and all the lovely people we met. My mother still sends and receives a Christmas card from the people we stayed with 32 years ago.

So, when Mrs S saw a notice advertising that CLG Beart were starting up a 'dads and lads' social football and hurling team for past player, parents, coaches and anyone who would like to play, she suggested I should give it a go.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not blaming her completely, I did think it would be a bit of craic myself and an opportunity to get a bit of exercise.

Out of retirement

Unfortunately, coming out of retirement after 30 years did not go as well as I had hoped for.

It definitely was great craic to start with, until an incident involving me going down to pick up a ball, my foot slipping slightly sideways on the wooden floor and a twang of pain in the back of my leg.

Of course, I couldn’t tell anyone I’d managed to injure myself after 10 minutes of doing nothing and played on, which was a big mistake.

Ten minutes later my hamstring gave way completely and, to make matters worse, I fell and landed on the point of my elbow.

The physio tells me I have ruptured my hamstring ligament and it might be a career-ending injury.

Out of retirement after 30 years and it's all over in 20 minutes. Now what has all this got to do with farming I hear you ask? Nothing, I suppose, except for the fact that I am unable to do any.

Real team effort

That’s where the aforementioned Mrs S comes in - she is the farmer at the minute. Now, Mrs S can’t drive a tractor - she’s a great driver - but just wouldn’t let me teach her how to drive a tractor. She always said if she could do that, she’d be left to do everything.

Now, seeing as she can’t drive a tractor and I can’t lift or carry anything, feeding cattle for the past two weeks has been a real team effort.

Myself and herself heading to the yard at 6am every morning so that she can be back in time to get the children ready for school, me driving the tractor and her doing the heavy lifting.

I must say I’d be lost without her, as my mother would say: “not many would do it".

Thankfully, to save my embarrassment slightly, I wasn’t the only person on the night who managed to injure themselves, but the less said about that the better.