The Illusion of Support
The Illusion of Support
The only form of support they can realistically expect? A care package. Usually filled with snacks, toiletries, maybe a few team souvenirs — thoughtful, yes, but not nearly enough. It won’t cover travel costs, training expenses, or the price of a balanced diet in the weeks leading up to competition. While appreciated, it’s a bandage over a deep wound — symbolic rather than substantial.
And the truth is, it’s not just during the big moments like the All-Ireland or World Games when the gaps are felt. It’s in the long, quiet build-up — the years of local club events, fundraisers, and training weekends — where the real struggle happens. When the cameras aren’t rolling. When the public and the press don’t show up. When no one’s there to witness the sacrifices made — not just by the athletes, but by their families, volunteers, and friends who stretch every euro just to keep the dream alive.
Josephine used to skip meals during those build-up years — not because she was dieting, but because the club fees kept climbing. She’d show up for training on an empty stomach and smile anyway, afraid to complain. And when she could no longer afford the bus to visit me, it wasn’t the club who noticed. It was me.
Then there’s Alising Beacon — two-time World Games athlete — who came home from double hip surgery during COVID with nothing more than a sheet of paper for rehab instructions. No physio. No proper support. Years of dedication, and in the end, she was left to figure out recovery on her own. Her story, like Josephine’s, unfolds in those hidden spaces — the ones without headlines.
Their stories aren’t exceptions — they’re the rule. Behind every athlete who makes it to the spotlight, there are dozens more living in its shadow, scraping by, quietly enduring. The system was never built to fully support them. It was built to celebrate outcomes, not journeys. To showcase medals, not the cost of earning them.
The truth is, local clubs are left to patch holes with raffles and bingo nights, while families take out loans or skip bills just to get their child a tracksuit with a crest. Volunteers burn out, athletes burn out, and the official response is often silence — or worse, a photo-op.
Meanwhile, care packages arrive like a pat on the back — something to hold onto when what’s really needed is structural change. Funding. Consistent support. Respect that doesn’t vanish after the podium clears.