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1st December 2018
12:16pm GMT
The jersey is safely tucked away in the hotpress for eleven months of the year. He wouldn't know a National League game if he got frostbite in Austin Stack Park but, when the autumn comes, he'll tell you all about 'who's flying in training'.
Guaranteed to be the very first text you receive after the semi-final looking for tickets, you'll find him on the third Sunday in September perched in his usual spot outside the Gresham.
Has been to every All-Ireland final since 1986 yet could not name any winning captain or any scoreline of any game.
He's the fella you'll find mugging off behind Marty or Ger outside Croke Park, or at the homecoming in Killarney.
Despite beating Leitrim by triple scores, they'll tell everyone in the pub afterwards that it was a 'hard test' and that the few points after half time were the only difference really.
Plays down everything about Kerry and the county team. No player is that good, every man can be beaten and, sure, his team will just turn up on the day, apply themselves, give it a lash, and hope that they can come out at the right side of the result.
Their face is in a permanent state of poker-playing. Their brain is in a permanent frame of not-getting-carried-away deception.
Do not trust this person. If they says green, then expect gold.
They taught the Healy-Raes everything they pretend to know, and some of the stuff they actually do know.
Abandons the car wherever they want because they knows the guards at every ground in the country. If they don't know the guards, they know 'a guy'.
When their Derry friend heartbreakingly tells him that he's never seen Sam presented in the Hogan Stand, this is the type of guy who responds with: 'I can't believe you've never been to an All-Ireland final. Not even one?'
Brimming with over-confidence, he'll be quick to tell you why Kerry is the best county in Ireland and that football isn't even the best thing they're good at either. There's poetry, music, song and bulls**t too.
The opposite of the cute hoor, this cocky so and so is the reason the other 31 counties cannot stand the men and women from the South West, at least at the business end of the championship season. He take all of Kerry's success for granted. It's the tap that will never turn off.
Facing Mayo is like Christmas and his birthday rolled into one as he spits in his hands and slaps them together in glee, looking forward to taking on the 'soft touch.'
Not trusted by his own kind - especially the cute hoor (see above) - and treated with suspicion wherever he goes, this person is an outsider as he betrays the omerta that stretches from Rathmore to Tarbert.
He's been watching Kerry football since 1973, and he still thinks the 'golden years' team would be better than any of the guys playing today.
Doesn't understand black, yellow or red cards and refers to any sequence of hand-passing as 'that oul basketball'.
Has a blessed picture of the Bomber Liston and Paidi O'Se either side of the Sacred Heart and John Paul II in his kitchen.
He is likely to get 'will ye just drop the ball in' inscribed on his gravestone and has been wearing the same Kerry rosette since 1984.
Likes his defenders from North Kerry and is suspicious of too many 'townies' on any one team.
His ham sandwiches are made the night before and his flask contains a crack from the time he dropped it in Portlaoise at a league game in the 1990's.
Not actually a native of Kerry but, by marriage or misfortune, are dragged to Kerry games by a Explore more on these topics:
