DAY 13

830 am I could not get my window closed and it was unbelievably noisy outside until 3 am. In typical Irish fashion, you could hear a pin drop now that it was morning. I wake up to an amazing Irish breakfast cooked by one of the hosting coaches. Again, what hospitality!

10:00 am The camp is actually out in the country past Blarney, yes that Blarney. The kids there are concerned I will think their accent sounds country. I told them I don’t even know what an Irish country accent sounds like. One of the campers announces he is David Beckam’s son, except he obviously has some African ancestry. We come to learn he is David Beckom’s son, the not quite famous Irish league basketball player from the University of Colorado.

1:00 pm Lunch is a spectacular home cooked chicken curry. These people know how to treat coaches. Another glass of excellent Irish tea and I am ready to deal with rug rats until 6:00. Two other coaches and myself destroy the three best campers, by using the highly complex and extremely effective pass and cut to the rim for a wide open layup offense.

8:00 pm After another ham and turkey dinner I decide to go on my patented city exploration run. Cork is very pretty, hilly and right on the Lee River. There are many old and neat churches, pubs and schools. The river basically splits the town in half so there are a ton of small bridges to connect the city. All the churches were locked this late but I hope to see a few with the family. Ran by the Beamish brewery, which is a beer very similar to Guinness (some say better), only brewed in Cork. During run I also pass a pub with this joke painted on its window:
A pirate walks into a pub with a wheel sticking out his bum. Someone asks do you know there is wheel sticking out your bum. He replies (much funnier if you here my amazing pirate voice), “Aaargh, and its been driving me nuts all day.” Now that’s humor in any country.

10:00 pm After a quick shower it is now time to hit the pubs of Cork. Sadly we take a wrong turn and end up in the only 1 mile stretch of Ireland lacking a pub. We finally hit a place with a terrible cover band that claims they are out of Beamish. I’m tempted to tell them to send someone over to the brewery that is less than 300 yards away, but I think better of it. So one pint and we are out.

11:00 pm I say I don’t want an upscale looking place, just a local hole in the wall. Be careful what you wish for. We end up in a Biker bar. I’m the only one in there not wearing black and the guy with me is the only one in there who IS black. Needless to say we are both uncomfortable. But they have great Beamish and a pretty good hard rock band. Some songs they scream too much, but for the most part good music.

12:00 pm The next pub has some German guy see my hoodie and tell me it must be rough rooting for a team that loses all the big games. He took off before I could tell him it must be tough rooting for a country that loses all the big ones too, like WWI and WWII. After dancing to an MJ tribute and passing someone with a boom box blaring MJ and dressed in full on 80s garb, we call it a night. Pubs are fun here because you can just randomly start talking to people. No one is standoffish, so it makes for good craek.