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Born on a small farm in County Kerry, its unknown exactly when Elwin McGhee was created, but rumours of the “Butter Beast of Ballybunion” date back to at least the mid 18th Century. It’s possible that some of these rumours refer to McGhee’s father Shivam, a barrel of Indian Ghee, delivered to Ireland at a similarly unknown date. Whether Shivam was sentient before arriving in Eire is, like much of the Grass-Fed Fielder’s early history, a mystery. What is certain is that he was seized by the British forces that then occupied the country, before being liberated by McGhee’s mother, Siobhann, a rebellious and independent woman reputed to have the blood of the Tuath de Danann, the fey folk of Celtic folklore, running through her veins. Some say that it was her fey magic that brought Shivam to life, before the two fell in love. What is certain is that the two ran away to the relative safety of the west of Ireland, and had a child together, whom they would name Elwin McGhee, or in the original Irish, Elwin Mac Ghee, translating literally to “Elwin, Child of Ghee.
McGhee would be raised among the wild coast and the rolling hills of Kerry, and given as close to a normal Irish childhood as is possible for an amorphous mass of shapeshifting butter, taking an early love of the Gaelic games, especially rounders and hurling, eventually earning a place on the county hurling team. This is where many of the folk tales around McGhee originate, with opponents cursing them, and inventing elaborate explanations for why they were overcome by the “Diabhal Sleamhain.” There was, however, an unfortunate incident one winter where, unable to melt off the requisite mass, McGhee over-ate at a christmas dinner and grew to approximately thirty feet in height, destroying about half the village over the course of the evening’s drunken revelry. This was fortunately dismissed as ‘just a bit of craic,’ proving definitively that you can get away with just about anything if you’re on the County team.
McGhee would enjoy a long and storied hurling career, and upon their retirement planned to return to their parents’ farm, before being approached by a friend who suggested that they use their sporting fame to open a GAA-Themed Sports Bar in Tokyo. Said friend and McGhee both, however, unfortunately overestimated the popularity of the GAA in Japan. Despite briefly serving the best pint of Guinness east of Abuja, the bar went fairly quickly bankrupt. It was at this point that one of the bar’s few patrons, and a gym buddy of McGhee’s, Lance Serotonin, suggested that McGhee put their remarkable pace to use playing for the newly formed Tokyo Lift. McGhee accepted the offer, but with their experience lying solely in the strictly amateur Gaelic games they are yet to grasp the concept of professional sport, and are thus still trying to get a sheep farm started to make a bit of money. (No mean feat in a high-rise apartment in central Tokyo)
