Eimear Ryan - The Grass Ceiling: On Being a Woman in Sport

Eimear Ryan’s The Grass Ceiling is a powerful blend of memoir, sports writing, and cultural commentary that asks what it means to be a woman in Irish sport. With sharp insight and lyrical prose, Ryan explores her life as a camogie player navigating male-dominated fields—both literal and metaphorical. Whether you’ve a grá for the GAA or just enjoy good Irish sportswriting, this is an honest, moving, and timely read that challenges the stories we tell about women, competition, and belonging.

GAA Books

I’ve read a couple of good GAA biographys and Irish sport memoirs over the years. Being from Ard Mhacha, Oisin McConville’s ‘The Gambler’ was as honest as it gets about addiction. I’ve always admired Darragh Ó’Sé as a player, and his column in the Irish times made for good reading. There’s a few others over the years I’ve read and enjoyed.

But I’d say ‘The club’ by Christy O’Connor is probably my favourite. It’s a fly-on-the-wall chronicle of the 2009 season at St Joseph’s Doora-Barefield GAA club in County Clare, where O’Connor was the Cúl Báire, when tragedy strikes.

I remember it as such an authentic read, pulling no punches on player tensions, club politics, grief, and the emotional pull of community. It gets across the importance of the GAA club as the heart of the parish, and the strong pull of identity.

I’d say Eimear Ryan’s book is in the same bracket of quality Irish sportswriting

Camogie

I wasn’t alone in thinking that the Camogie final between Cork and Galway was the pick of the games across the codes this year. Galway won the O’Duffy cup by a point from Carrie Dolan in the dying momments, to deny Cork a three in the row. Plenty of tension, skill and drama throughout - good to get a final that lived up to the hype.

For my regular international readers, there isn’t much of a difference between Hurling and Camogie these days, though both have their own traditions and identities. Both are physical and skillful games, use the same pitches and scoring systems, and are the fastest field sports in the world. Both sports are deeply rooted in Irish identity.

Unfortunately, and as addressed by Eimear in the book, Camogie players have long faced inequalities in funding, media coverage, and recognition, despite putting in the same effort and commitment as the hurlers and footballers.

Journey

The emotional heart of the book is Eimears journey as a camogie player - from her roots in Moneygall, representing Tipp at intercounty level, before moving to her adopted club of St Finbarrs in Cork.

I enjoyed reading about the club stuff with Moneygall, and her roots in the GAA (her Grandfather Séamus Ó Rian was president of the GAA from 1967 to 1970). How the GAA field was central to the parish, and everything revolved around the hurling.

We get the highs and lows of the club career, and always, always, the dedication and the commitment. Ryan is a fine writer, and she really gets across the pull of the club loyalty and the weight of county expectation.

Eimear’s skill as a writer means she can take you into personal anecdotes and the thick of the action of a tight club quarter final against a nearby parish, whilst also weaving in the wider commentary about Irish society and sporting structures.

You really get a sense of the club player - the tradition of playing for your parish with the girls you grew up with, not winning much but keeping at it, and the tough decision to leave your club because you’d moved away and wanted to play somewhere closer. And the toll that injuries and age take on you.

What also resonated with me was how our interests change, and I recongised how Eimear was discovering different things, especially music. I never had the illustrious career that Eimear had, and quit playing club at a young age, partly due to a recurring knee injury but more so due to a widening of interests. I began to stray from sport and the white lines of the local pitch, so important growing up, to finding solace in lyrics and music, discovering new bands, books and friends who weren’t into sport. I wish I had played for longer, to have continued playing with my mates and pushed myself to be part of something bigger, but I went in a different direction.

Ryan asks the deep questions: What do we carry from our local clubs and school teams into our adult selves? What do sports teach us—about body image, confidence, failure? Her reflections on team dynamics, community pride, and the fear of ambition are deeply Irish and very resonant.

The Skort Rebellion

‘The Grass ceiling’ was written in 2023, but I couldn’t write this review without mention of ‘The Skort Rebellion’ of 2025, when Camogie players across the country finally snapped and said: “We’re not wearing skorts anymore.” The skort—one of those skirt-with-buried-shorts hybrids—felt more like a sartorial relic than sporting kit. Most players found it uncomfortable and outdated .

With 83% of players saying they wanted shorts and 70% reporting discomfort, the Camogie Association was cornered into calling a special congress. The result? A landslide vote—98% of delegates agreed: from now on, players get to choose shorts or skorts.

In the book, Eimear writes that ‘the skort feels like nothing more than an attempt to keep us in our box.’ These are small steps, but hopefully they are significant.

This wasn’t just about fabric—it was about autonomy, gender norms, and finally having the players' voices heard. If I learned anything in The Grass Ceiling, it’s how small things can carry the emotional weight of centuries.

Summary

Obviously camogie is central in The Grass Ceiling. But it will also resonate with anyone who’s ever felt on the edge of belonging—in sport, school, gender roles, or social expectations. It’s a book about being told (explicitly or otherwise): "Don’t be too ambitious." It’s also about pushing back.

I’m a huge fan of Gaelic games, but I’ve never really considered the treatment of camogie players before. They give the same commitment, but aren’t respected near as well as their football and hurling counterparts (Even the word camogie feels outdated to me now).

This is a beautifully written, honest, and thought-provoking read. If you’re into modern GAA books, feminism, or Irish sport memoirs that reflect the culture we grew up in and the stories we were never quite told, then this is worthy of your time.

First published May 4, 2023 by Sandycove

208 Pages, paperback

I no longer include Amazon links in my reviews. Please support your local library and bookshops. Libby is also great.

If you do wish to purchase online, feel free to support independent bookshops and contribute to the hosting of this website by purchasing via Bookshop.org