A Shamrock hurtles downfield.
What was the final score?
Blame the hundred-plus-degree heat out on the field at Northeast High School, but the end of Saturday’s game, no one seemed to know. Or care.
After the final whistle, the exhausted players of the Philadelphia Shamrocks and the Worcester (Mass.) Hurling Club dragged themselves off to a little corner near the pitch to sit in what little shade there was to be had. They stripped off their sweat-streaked jerseys, dropped to the ground and started to put away many icy bottles of water and Gatorade.
Everybody knew the away team had won handily, but no one knew by what score.
Frank O’Mara, captain of the rebuilding Shamrocks, suggested his own final tally. “Just say it was a draw,” he quipped. “These boys are from Massachusetts. They’re never gonna read it, anyway.”
When we weren’t sitting under a tree and drinking our own water and Gatorade, we headed out to the sidelines for some pictures.
