Uh Oh, here we go again. Another goalkeeper in the family. Why us Lord, why us? Weren't two enough?

He's only six, this fella, and would need a telescope to spot the crossbar above him and a lift from his Da to take him from one post to another in under two minutes. You'd need a telescope yourself to even spot him between the posts when you're standing on the sideline.

He's following in the footsteps of two uncles, the memory of whose goalkeeping careers still prompts their Ma to cry "Jeeesus, hope his mother's dead," every time she sees a goalkeeper drop a clanger. There were times watching her two lads she kinda wished she was dead herself. Nearly was, too, on a couple of occasions, especially that time the ball squirmed under . . . no, no, it's too painful to recall.

It's not that they were bad, they just discovered, like Paddy Cullen (after that swiftly-taken Kerry freekick), that they could be magnificent for 99.99 per cent of their careers but make one single error of judgement and be forever labelled "dodgy 'keeper". Defenders, midfielders and forwards can make errors of judgement 99.99 per cent of the time and be forever remembered for that one fluky volley to the back of the net. But never mind the lot of the goalkeeper, there is nothing - nothing - more stressful in life than being related to a goalkeeper, especially one playing in a big match, like a cup final.

It's over 20 years now since a loved one of mine played - as a goalkeeper - in a Leinster Colleges' Gaelic football final at Croke Park, but it was probably only last Tuesday that my pulse returned to something approaching normal. Felt physically sick sitting in the Hogan Stand waiting for the match to start, and it had nothing to do with the four Loop-the-Loop ice-creams I'd eaten in the build-up. "What! Are they repeating their Leaving for the 12th time," we asked when Moate, the opponents on the day, took to the field. Funny that, when your relation is a goalkeeper the opposition always looks twice the size. In fact Moate's full forward made Eoin Liston look like Willie Carson. "Why couldn't you have been a right corner forward or something - anything but a goalkeeper," we all (silently) shouted in our loved one's direction. (He was six foot something but, by now, seemed about four foot three and was dwarfed by the humongous goal around him. So it seemed from our vantage point).

My tummy still goes "whoOOOOoah" every time I hear the town of Moate mentioned. Hate the place. Hate everything about it. Especially the honours board in the local college which confirms their shower beat my loved one's team that day in Croke Park. So, do you like being a goalkeeper, I ask my six-year-old loved one now, hoping to convince him that he'd made a bad Gaelic football career move.

"Yeah, but you have to take a lot of eye on the ball and you have to be very fast," he says in a six-year-oldish kind of way. Why do you have to be very fast? "Because you don't want to let your team down." Oh God. Is that what your coach tells you. "Yeah."

And is it hard being a goalkeeper (as if I needed to ask)? "Kind of." Why? "'Cos if you miss too much and it's 5-1 the other team with five will get six and win the match." And is it your fault if they get six? "No! It's the other team's fault and the players' fault." (Good, at least he's developing Peter Schmeichel-like tendencies, ie "it's everyone's fault but my own").

Is it not a bit scary when a fella is running in towards you with the ball? "No, because you just bash him down." Pardon!? "Well, that's what the coach says." But do you ever get hurt? "Well, sometimes we bash in to each other." Yikes, sounds a bit violent? "Yeah, it's great." Oh God. He actually enjoys being a goalkeeper.

I've had a dream. A terrible dream. In 15 year's time I'll be sitting in the stand at Croke Park watching a 21-year-old loved one in goal for Dublin in an All-Ireland final and some louser from Cahirciveen will take a free-kick when my loved one's off his line and will ruin his life forever by depositing the ball in the back of the net.

Why couldn't he have been a right corner forward?