Hello everyone -

[dermot]

Thanks KG for letting me know about this !

Hello to everyone ............... When did this start up ?

[dermot]

Right thats enough of the nice stuff............... I'm still from Tyrone and I take it youze feckers are still from Kerry ............. Let the battle begin


Nah, seriously, well done stacks - I hear its yourself who got this going - I Have to say I missed it and am glad its back

Speak to you all later

[mickmack]

I was in Croke Park for the Tyrone v Dublin game. The usual routine. Dublin race into a lead and tails up. Tyrone up the ante. Bring on Hub Hughes who dominates everything. Ricey acting the maggot. Gets sent off. Mulligan shows his class and wins it for tyrone. This guy at 12 for Tyrone looks a great prospect.

Basically lads and lassies................. as regards Tyrone............they havent gone away you know.

[mickmack]

ps welcome back Dermot!

[joan]

It did not take long for this to catch on,hahaha welcome back lads. Anyone know or can contact rashers???

[mickmack]

From Reservour Dubs......


Maynard writes "The Ghost of Seasons Past

It seemed as if you were drawn to the venue by an instinctive homing system, a pattern of learned behaviour developed over many years. Finding Croker in the dark didn’t seem strange until you thought about it after the event. As you climbed the familiar steps towards the light and the spectacle that lay on its horizon, rancour aside, you were glad that you had been given the opportunity to participate in what was (that most overused of phrases) “an historic occasion” While thirty of the thirty two counties had to make do with watching it on television.

I am no lover of the Irish palsy that is “event junkie” syndrome. The band wagoners, fair-weathers, sunshine fans, day trippers and their tennis partners were all undoubtedly in attendance. The reality being, that had they stayed at home, Croker would have been as sparsely attended as Jade Goody’s college lecture tour on Romanticism. But I suppose you must at least allow them the opportunity to “see the light” if you’ll pardon the pun, and to embark on a road that could lead as far a field as, who knows, Parnell Park?

Anyway, you have to say that the place looked marvellous. An utterly inspiring sight, and you feel that the installation of the high-quality lights might just be the thing to help the GAA soar where no association has soared before. For them, the sky truly is the limit now. But would the match live up to the kind of hype that an elevator full of Don Kings couldn’t have generated…well yes, and no.

Dublin performed well in the first half. Economical use of the ball, some good running by the half forwards, which gave the backs and midfieldersplenty of options to send the bright yellow ball bobbing into stretches of open grass. The shooting was also economical. Rising star Dermot Connolly won the privilege of being the first man to score under lights at HQ, as he cooly clipped a nice free over the Canal End goal. Alongside the fresh faced Connolly was the increasingly stern features of Alan Brogan. The Plunketts/Eoghan Rua man is fear personified for inter-county defenders nowadays. Movement, pace, passing, linking, confidence and shooting ability are all available under the Brogan Big Top. This means of course that both literally and metaphorically, Alan Brogan is a marked man. It seems a shame to have to admit it, but you get the feeling that there will be managers from this day until Brogan hangs up his boots, that will be giving tips to their backs on how to wind him up and try to get him sent off.

So anyway, Dublin took some good scores, but they also wasted others. Some dropped short, some floundered at the last following good passages of play. Down the other end Tyrone were not getting much joy. The shooting boots were set to stun rather than kill, and David Henry was putting a performance in at the corner (and further a field if the truth be told) that had the ceaseless energy of a spinning top. He was like a barnacle on the Tyrone hull, attached tight, and in for the long haul. So the Dubs went in comfortably ahead at the break, five points up at 0.07 to 0.02.

I don’t know about you readers out there, but I for one am beyond tired at the term “second half collapse” It has been following Dublin around for so long now that you would be forgiven for thinking there had been a linguistic marriage between the phrase and the place name. Are we going to be forced to petition the GAA bigwigs, forcefully requesting that all Dublin games be cut to one period of thirty five minutes? How about we trade with another county? Let’s try the first half collapse on for size, and see how it fits. Maybe we could pull a Tyrone, Mayo, Armagh, Kerry etc and come from behind to win for a change?

But maybe we are destined to be the guardians of the second half collapse. For
it seems that nobody does it better, and nobody can do it quite the way we do. Baby, we are the best at it, there is no doubt about that.

Darren Magee had stepped up to the mark, following on from solid, workmanlike performances in the O’ Byrne Cup. Although once again he received little help with his mountain of midfield paperwork, but he somehow kept the bosses happy. When he left the field in the second period (apparently injured) Tyrone had already begun to scale the Dublin wall. After Magee departed the scene, the Red Hand climbed over the parapet, looted, urinated on and ate the porridge of Dublin’s cosy lead. Things got bleak.

Dublin’s half-back line disappeared and Tyrone were able to mug the Dubs by shifting the ball wide and then back inside to the centre where a monster truck could have driven without any fear of nicking a footballer. During this period it seemed as if Croke Park had been tilted to one side, allowing all the players to congregate down the Canal End, as the ball seemed incapable of passing the halfway line. Dublin were being murdered from every kick out. Breaking ball and clean catches all went Tyrone’s way, and the Hill lurched and groaned like the death rattle from an immanent corpse.

Tyrone eventually took the lead, but by then it seemed all so academic. Everyone (event junkies included) could see what was about to happen long before it did. But the Dublin changes came late, and even the introduction of stalwarts like Cullen and Ryan couldn’t make any impact. At similar stages in the O’ Byrne Cup big Johnny Magee was employed to knock some heads and catch a ball or two. Indeed he popped up with a sublime score and some effective plays in Tullamore six day previous. It seems unusual as to why he was not deployed at any stage. And instead the removal of Dotsy O’Callaghan was almost comical, seeing by that time all the forwards had forgotten what the ball even looked like.

Kevin Bonner (who had a strong game) gave some brief hope with a late point to land Keaney with the chance to snatch a draw from the arms of defeat, stolen from the mouth of victory. But the last gasp free went horribly wrong. Surely you go for the sticks? Sure it could go wide, but it could also go over, or hit one of the posts and come down in the area, or drop short and cause some panic…but it was tapped short into the rabid den of Tyrone defenders, ravenous to clear the ball. And Dublin, manic like the postman with the arse taken out of his trousers, snatched at it and left the gate swinging wide open for Tyrone to walk away one point winners.

I suggested last week that the O’ Byrne Cup may have asked more defensive questions of Dublin than it answered. That still seems to hold true. We seem thin at centre field too, for if one of D Magee, Whelan or Ryan is missing we are bereft of similar talent. But beyond isolated field positions, Dublin still have more of an Achilles hamstring than a heel, as they simply cannot shut a game out. The talent, commitment, effort, skill and desire is unquestionable…but whether ruthlessness can be learned, we must wait and see.