Millionaires on the Pitch, Crisis on the Streets – What Are We Playing At?

Dublin is a city of voices. In the pubs, on the streets - everywhere, really - everyone has an opinion, and no one is shy about sharing it. I arrived on Monday evening, just after the Six Nations weekend, taking the bus into town from the airport and the tram out to Leopardstown. Not because it was the quickest way, but because it was the most sustainable. A small act of responsibility in a world where money and excess seem to dominate every conversation.

Take the bar last night. Three ageing men, pints in hand, dissecting the last few days of horse racing with the kind of detail that suggests they’ve either won big or lost even bigger. They talk in code - form, ground, staying power - like high priests of an ancient order. The Cheltenham whispers have begun. A friend of a friend knows a trainer who knows a jockey. The kind of inside information that has fuelled betting slips and broken dreams for generations. I don't take notes. I can lose handsomely myself when I so chose.

But their conversation is interrupted by the TV on the wall. It’s transfer deadline day, and eye-watering amounts of money are being thrown at men whose main skill in life is kicking a ball up and down a pitch. A club has just spent ￡80 million on a 22-year-old “prospect", because apparently, he has “potential" (something that they used to say about Paul McStay, when he was on the verge of retiring at 33). Potential for what, exactly? To score an important goal in April? To get injured in September? To sign for Saudi Arabia in three years? I’ve spent 60 years with “great potential” and haven’t seen a penny for it, nor am I likely to.

All this makes me think about how much sport has changed. Take the Six Nations. These days, it’s almost impossible to get a ticket. Thirty years ago, I’d have come out to Dublin with friends, many of us without tickets, and still ended up in the ground. You’d buy one at face value in a pub from a bloke whose auld daid got stuck painting the fence and couldn’t make it. Now? You’d need a mortgage application and a biometric scan to get through the turnstiles.

And yet, despite all the money, all the hype, all the inflation of both egos and ticket prices, we still care. Whether it’s the ponies at Leopardstown or the footballers being paraded like prized stallions on Sky Sports, we can’t seem to get enough of it. Maybe it’s because, for a moment, it gives us something to believe in - something to argue about, cheer for, or curse at.

Meanwhile, in other news, the USA and China are gearing up for a trade war. No transfer fees, no betting odds, just two superpowers kicking lumps out of each other—probably without a VAR check. Wonder if I can get a ticket for that?

Why is all this important? Because while billions are thrown at footballers and nations square up for economic battle, many people are struggling to heat their homes and afford the basics. As leaders, businesses, and citizens, our duty isn’t just to chase the biggest deal or the next spectacle - it’s to ensure that success, opportunity, and stability aren’t luxuries reserved for the highest bidder. If we can spend ￡80 million on "potential", surely we can invest in a fairer, more sustainable future too?

As always, interested in your thoughts.