The Field was written recently by Michael Keaveny, please enjoy.
The Field Sitting patiently on the village's cusp, The Field acts as a centerpiece, a watchtower, a sanctuary and a meeting place all at once.
It is a beacon of light, illuminating the parish, guiding us through cold, dark, winter Tuesday nights to sun soaked, long shadowed evenings of late summer.
The Field is an umbilical cord that connects the parish to its people, a forum for a coalition of friends, families, blow ins and locals alike, all united under one banner, serving a common purpose: to uphold and preserve the honour of the hallowed turf within.
The Field is a place where friendships are forged, where lifelong connections are built, where the young, the old, the good, the bad and the indifferent can congregate on equal footing, where every voice carries equal weight and clout.
The arena within has seen battles that would match D Day, The Somme and Stalingrad. It has seen boys turn from men, to heroes, to legends, all in the famous black and white.
It has seen grown men surge to catch a ball in flight, to break down in and cry as well as shout for joy and delight.
No matter how far we stray from home, no matter how far we roam, one thing unites us and brings us together: the knowledge that The Field is with us forever.