On the show in recent weeks, Colm Parkinson has been addressing the topic of transfers in the GAA, and whether the flow towards Dublin clubs has gotten out of control.
As a complex issue for both players and clubs, there is no simple solution, but Wooly has been putting forward a number of proposals, including floating the possibility of a quota system introduced from clubs in Dublin for the use of players from other counties.
While employers often make compromises for inter-county games, the travel can take its toll on players when it comes to club football.
Speaking to us here on Off The Ball last week, Fermanagh's Tomas Corrigan explained that his move to Oliver Plunketts Eoghan Ruadh was because playing in Fermanagh was simply "not feasible at the minute" and that, with more jobs to be found in the capital and major urban centres for third level graduates, there are likely to be "more and more transfers in the next few years".
We've had plenty of discussion since, including one texter suggesting that players who transfer from one club to another should also transfer counties, as it would lessen the movement of players for non-genuine reasons.
However, Martin Moloney of Cortoon in Galway got in touch with a rather unique take on the discussion, setting the bar very high as he has penned a poem that deals with the situation.
Entitled 'Winner All Right', Moloney details his own view on the situation, and how he'll always be loyal to the Shamrocks of Cortoons, never pledging allegiance to the Scans of Milltown.
We're open to correction on our understanding of Galway slang if you want to get in touch, but you can enjoy the full poem below.
Perish the parish if the poachers prevail
This is not the Premier League with players for sale,
This is GAA country where the parish rules
And transfers are only for disillusioned fools.
You don't choose your club, your club chooses you
And to that ideal, you forever stay true.
You play with your friends, neighbours and relations
You play for your parish not the league of nations.
You play for each other through thick and thin,
We're disappointed if you lose, but we celebrate when you win.
You play with the Varleys, the Boyles, O'Neills and Roaches
And the answer is No if another club approaches.
You might grow old but you'll never retire,
you just take your place on the other side of the wire.
Then you curse the opposition, linesman and referee,
All because we didn't get a free.
You're no Johnny Cash but you walk the line
Your flag only points one way and that's fine.
You line the pitch, you paint the walls
You cut the grass, you pump the balls,
You play your part, do what you can,
Forever a Shamrock but Never a Scan.
Our ambition is to win the elusive Frank Fox
With a team of true blues, a team of Shamrocks.
When the final final whistle blows, you go to meet St Peter at the gates,
Tell him I'm from the parish of Cortoon and I'm here to see my mates
You walk into Heaven, it's painted sky blue and white
You mightn't have many county medals but now you're the winner all right.
