The Full-Court Press

Every transfer saga starts somewhere, and this one starts where all Limerick stories start: in a sports hall that smelled of floor polish and ambition. There was basketball. There was slagging. Neither has stopped since.

Draft copy — the definitive account of how they met is awaited from the groom, who has promised a voice note and will be held to it.

What the record does show: one of them coaches the Huskies, the other coaches the Eagles, and for one glorious season the National Cup lived in both their kit bags. Between them they've clipboarded their way through league nights in every county with a court, worn the green of Ireland at the officials' table, and conducted a years-long tactical debate that no referee has yet dared to whistle.

Somewhere between the fixtures (a windswept headland, a desert, a gig, a photo booth) the thing everyone else had already seen became official. There was a question. It was a good one. She said yes.

Proposal details under embargo until the principals release their statement.

And so to Monaleen, and the biggest fixture either has ever prepared for. Team talks are written. The venue is booked. The band, The Bentley Boys no less, are warming up. All that's missing is you, and your name's already pencilled on the team sheet overleaf.