The Pitch – click on image to buy tickets
As the writer of The Pitch, Philip Catherwood has been right at the centre of a story that’s as much about modern Belfast as it is about sport. He’s watched the play grow from a spark of local controversy into a piece that captures humour, identity, political tension and the shifting cultural landscape of Northern Ireland. His voice in the room is steady, instinctive, and rooted in lived experience — someone who understands how a single pitch can hold decades of history, and how three characters can carry the weight of a changing country. In conversation, he moves easily between the personal and the political, between the craft of rehearsal and the bigger questions the play raises. What follows is his take on how The Pitch came to life.
When you first started shaping The Pitch, what was the spark — the moment you realised this wasn’t just a story about Gaelic football but something bigger?
The spark came from a news story about a GAA club trying to refurbish a soccer pitch into a Gaelic football ground in East Belfast — the area I grew up in. If you don’t know Belfast’s geography or demographics, East Belfast is a strongly Unionist area, and the idea of GAA there is still contentious for some. But things are changing. For me, that story was the perfect example of how cultural identity is shifting in Northern Ireland, how the ground is moving, and how the country might be edging towards Irish Unity. That’s when I realised the play wasn’t just about sport — it was about who we are becoming.
The show sits right in the middle of Belfast humour and political tension. How did you balance the jokes with the weight underneath?
Honestly, it was easy. Belfast humour is built for serious subjects — we deal with heavy things by joking about them. We’re always ribbing each other, always finding the lighter side. I never felt the play tipping too far into seriousness or silliness. The priority was authenticity: real Belfast characters handling real issues in the way people here actually do.
Robbie, Deren, Melissa — three very different ways of seeing the same place. Which of them shifted the most as you developed the script?
They’re the perfect trio to guide the audience through this story. Robbie comes from a Unionist background, Deren from a Nationalist one, and Melissa — though she’s Robbie’s younger sister — represents a younger generation sitting somewhere between those identities.
Robbie changed the most during development. He’s frustrated, hot‑headed, and his views on Irish Unity are visceral. But I wanted him to be sympathetic too. He’s scared of losing part of his identity, and that fear doesn’t make him a bad person. It just makes him human. James Grimm, who plays him, captures that internal struggle beautifully.
There’s a United Ireland referendum hanging over everything. How did you decide how loudly or quietly that should sit in the background?
It starts quietly. Characters mention it in passing because it’s just been announced, and they’re unsure how things will unfold. As time moves forward, the referendum gains momentum and becomes a central part of Robbie, Deren and Melissa’s interactions. Whether a United Ireland happens or not… you’ll have to come and see.
Tell me about a rehearsal where something unexpected happened — a moment that changed how you saw the piece.
There are too many to choose from. The actors are brilliant at ad‑libbing and improvising — adding lines, shifting meanings, finding new beats. We’ve done a few versions of the play before, so they’re comfortable with their characters and with each other. Improv happens naturally, and half the time you won’t even notice it’s unscripted.
Gaelic football is central, but it’s not really “about” the sport. What’s the heartbeat of the show once you strip the pitch away.
At its heart, it’s a coming‑of‑age story. It’s about friendships, relationships, family. It’s about growing up in a unique place with a troubled history and a cultural divide that’s lasted for centuries. I wanted to give a snapshot of modern Belfast — not The Troubles, not the Peace Process, but right now. The conversations young people are having today.
Every production has a detail you fight for — something tiny that most people won’t clock. What’s that detail in The Pitch?
All the little local jokes. They landed perfectly in Belfast but might not be as familiar elsewhere — Tayto, Van Morrison, the Red Hand of Ulster, Down GAA, Buckfast, pastie baps. Those wee references make the world feel real, so they’re staying in.
The show deals with identity, belonging, and the idea of home. How has writing or performing it shifted your own sense of those things?
Like Robbie, I’m from a Unionist background and didn’t grow up with Gaelic football or much Irish cultural tradition. Working on the play broadened my understanding of Irish history and let me explore perspectives I hadn’t fully grasped before. It’s even inspired me to start writing a new play set in 17th‑century Colonial Ireland.
If you had one more week in the room — one more chance to push something further — what part of The Pitch would you dig into?
I’d explore the Irish Unity referendum in more detail — the practical implications. How it would affect people in Northern Ireland. What it would mean for social care, education, housing, sport, transport. All the everyday things. But I’m happy with how much we cover without turning it into a lecture. If you want to dip your toes into the topic of Irish Unity while following the journeys of three funny, flawed Belfast characters, this is the show to see.
