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Post by mickmack on Feb 10, 2007 16:24:07 GMT
Maynard writes "The Year the Giant Woke Up
So the county of Kerry wins yet another All-Ireland title ey? Another display of public brutality inflicted upon Mayo, broadcast across the world as the centrepiece of the GAA’s solar year. I recall how galled I was two years ago when I witnessed the unholy destruction of Mayo’s 2004 side…an unusual mixture of anger and indifference. Not the abiding memories any supporter of Gaelic games wishes to take from the supposed highpoint of the championship season. Sunday’s demolition was the kind of déjà vu that everybody (the Kingdom aside) could really have done without.
The story of Kieran Donaghy is the one which the GAA’s spin-aficionados would do well to shout from every available rooftop if they wish to salvage some positive PR from such a lob-sided encounter. The rise of this youngster from nowhere man, to Underdog, to potential contender, to being a Kerry squad player was miraculous to begin with, given the renowned talent available within the county. But to go even further, to become the fulcrum of the Kerry game-plan and the icon of the summer is truly stranger than fiction. To score 1.02 in the final and walk away with an All-Ireland winners medal…well that is just Ruadhrai of the Rovers stuff.
However, if my myopia can be excused, I believe that the subplot to the final act of summer 2006 will be the re-emergence of the Dublin senior footballers, as legitimate contenders for the All Ireland. I am quite sure that I was not the only person, languidly gazing into the tv screen as Mayo gasped for air like a fish on the deck of a boat, thinking how different things might have been had Dublin been in their stead. Had Dublin not let a seven-point lead slip in the semi final. It may be the romantic in me, but I can’t help but think that the atmosphere of a Dublin crowd at its first final since 1995 would not have allowed such a cakewalk to occur. That is not to say that it is Mayo’s fault, far from it. Dublin must look at themselves and the opportunity that they let slide from their overeager grasp, and agree that it doesn’t happen again.
It was an uneasy sight seeing Paul Caffrey in attendance on All-Ireland final day, but in his capacity as a member of An Garda Shuiochana. One can only speculate as to the varying strains of thought that must have been running through his mind, as the apex of the year unfolded around him; detached, uninvolved…irrelevant. You could be forgiven for suggesting that last Sunday’s eerie cameo may help to steel the Dublin manager into making d**n sure that if he is destined to never manage in the biggest game there is, it won’t be because his side surrendered a winning lead by making poor positional calls.
Kerry came good when it mattered the most, and when they came good they came better than good. Mayo could not live with them. Kerry were rubbish against Cork, twice, and they were written off in the Munster championship. Mayo were rubbish against Galway (Galway were worse) and they were written off. Kerry regained their mojo in a battle royale with Armagh, where in effect, 35 minutes of football saw them turn the game on its head. That second half performance was like bullion, solid and strong but also shimmering with something more deft and delicate. Meanwhile Mayo eventually shrugged off a tired Laois, but remained uninspiring.
The odds of Kerry not beating Cork over three championship games in one year would be akin to being hit by lightening whilst holding the state’s winning lottery ticket. Needless to say they advanced to the final with little fuss. Mayo and Dublin had to fight for the right to tussle with a side who feel it is their birthright to contest the final every year. Dublin’s performance was un-unified, full of holes. In spite of that, sheer effort and some exceptional individual displays saw them within touching distance of a crack at the biggest prize, on the biggest day, against (historically) their biggest rivals. The pressure seemed to create a fault line in the dugout that led to some irrational moves on the chessboard. That was enough to undermine the good work that had been put it, and ultimately it was all for nought.
The irony being that despite Paul Caffrey’s new approach; to the media, player conditioning, and personnel use, he, like his predecessor came a cropper by the smallest of margins, in the semi final, where the width of the post denied them a replay. Sport is often a cruel and fickle thing. However, one must derive some solace from the manner in which the man and his team have been going about their jobs for the past two years. I am of the belief that some real strides have been made, and that Dublin are now in it for the long haul. The razzamatazz and vacuous blowing of the Lyons era was a thin-layer of paper that when quickly removed, revealed deep cracks and instability. My opinion (and that is all that it is) is that this entire squad is not interested in the quick payoff followed by a swift exit stage left. But with Caffrey’s guidance, they have a broader, fuller view, of where they are going, and what can be achieved.
In this culture of boom and bust, and in the economy of sport, near misses and heartache can be a very strong currency. Tyrone and Armagh are prime examples of this. Sometimes you must truly hurt before you can properly heal. I believe that Dublin set down a marker in 2006, that they are back, and in a meaningful way. There is a unity of purpose that should steer them towards success, and potentially towards being a team every bit as good as the Dublin of the early nineties.
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Post by mickmack on Feb 11, 2007 21:06:02 GMT
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.
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Post by mickmack on Feb 11, 2007 21:11:19 GMT
Maynard writes "A Dead Duck
I do not consider myself a reactionary person, but having watched this years’ two instalments of the International Rules Series, the only sensible conclusion I believe is to scrap it once and for all.
In the past I have been patient as both the AFL and the GAA have twisted and teased the format in order to deliver a sporting package that is both enjoyable to partake in from a players perspective, and enjoyable to watch from a supporters perspective. Sadly the experiment has failed.
What was displayed in Croke Park on Sunday was the worst of the worst. The dross of both Gaelic football and Aussie Rules combined to give a mutated spectacle of insipid football and pseudo-machismo violence. Neither of which would be tolerated by the powers that be in their respective associations, let alone by the paying customers. Each one of the 82,000 plus who paid into Croke Park on Sunday were cheated, and would be mad to hand another penny of their money over to this bloated corpse of a sport.
It is clear that no amount of tweaking will resolve the underlying problems that plague this game. If the Aussies master the round ball and develop a basic grasp of strategy then they simply hammer Ireland. Their superior stamina, physicality and overall fitness is enough to see them through, particularly if the likes of Barry Hall can hone the necessary skills to kick “overs” This was illustrated on Sunday. These factors were conducive to forming the sham of a spectacle that saw thousands bolt for the door before the 3rd quarter had even ended.
If the Aussies cannot master the basic skills you get the kind of rubbish we saw in Croker 2 years ago, with Aussies unable to pass a ball 5 yards, scores at a premium and once again, entertainment and value for money standing at nil. In such cases we will hoot and holler in our Celtic jerseys, jester hats and leprechaun outfits as Ireland beat the giant with his trousers around his ankles. Equally pointless.
So let’s talk violence. It is endemic in the Irish and Australian culture that we enjoy a bit of rough and tumble in our sport. Fair enough. However, most of us like it when it stays within the parameters set down by the laws of the games and their administrators. Let us not forget just how many knickers were furiously twisted after the mass handbag convention in Omagh between the Dubs and Tyrone last year. If you like men getting punched, I recommend you get a ticket for the Point Theatre for next Saturday as Ireland’s fantastic Bernard Dunne intends to throw some punches within the parameters of a real sport.
Last year the Aussies were a disgrace. Their premeditated assaults were despicable, and pointed to an underlying malaise in the mindset of the Australian male. This year the violence returned again (after both teams managed to keep it cool for 72 dreary minutes in Salthill) Only this time its arrival brought yawns rather than outrage from the public. The macho posturing, shirt pulling, trash-talking, sly digs, wrestling on the ground, hands in the face, head butts, late tackles, dirty kicks and any other kind of juvenile bullshit you care to mention was utterly numbing. And these acts were perpetrated by both sides on Sunday.
Oh yes, it turns out that the Irish boys are no saints either. Goaded on by a group of what seemed like maladjusted, testosterone filled morons, the Irish fellas took little time to descend into the mire of depravity feet first. This shows that the game simply cannot exist without violence. In every single test there is the spectre of violence lingering in the air. The only question is how much violence there will be on each occasion.
Perhaps I am bias, and if so I apologise. But it seems to me that the Australians come into each of these annual showdowns wanting to hurt people. They do not carry themselves with the decorum of professional sportsmen. This year they had to send a player home for brawling with a bar worker in Galway. Last year the series almost reached meltdown because of the unprecedented levels of on-field violence perpetrated by the Australians. The year before that an Aussie player had to be restrained from starting a brawl in Ron Black’s on Nassau Street. The list goes on.
Is it any wonder that so many Irish players don’t want to be even considered for the “honour” of representing their country anymore? Colm Cooper vowed never to play again after his experiences “Down Under” last year. From Dublin alone, Ciaran Whelan, Conal Keaney and Bryan Cullen all elected to not play this year. And nobody can blame them for making that decision. If inter-county players are expected to give their all into September for All-Ireland glory, go back to their clubs to fight and graft for local pride and quite possibly represent their province in the rigor mortised Inter-Pro series too… THEN go out and get assaulted by professional athletes on live TV for their country, then something is very wrong.
You have to wonder what the motivation behind pushing this Frankenstein sport is. It has always been touted as the ideal way to “reward” the elite of the GAA for their excellence in Gaelic games. Despite the writing being on the wall (and the bruises on the arse) for many years now, the GAA has pigheadedly insisted on pushing on, risking the health and safety of the amateur athletes they claim they want to honour and reward. And now more and more athletes are refusing to even take part. The fiscally astute Sean Kelly was always very keen on this hybrid mess, perhaps new GAA President Nicky Brennan will not be so lenient. However, if he continues where Kelly left off by ignoring the obvious, I will be left with no option other than to assume the GAA’s motivation to be financial.
The “Coca-Cola International Rules” has been a piece of marketing genius. Who would have thought that a country would get behind a sport where your most hated inter-county rival is representing you against a country that most Irish people feel quite fondly towards? And yet you get bumper crowds in every year, increasing in tandem with the levels of advertising exposure it receives. Strange no?
“Event junkies, not sports fanatics” that is how one man described the Irish attitude to me. And I believe he has a point. You get the feeling that if the revenue accrued from the International Rules was on a par with say, the Shinty series, the GAA would have called time on it long ago. And if that were to happen I doubt if the offices of the GAA and the AFL would be inundated with strongly worded letters from county boards, the GPA, and heartbroken Joe Public’s insisting that the Series be immediately reinstated.
Perhaps at one point the intentions were true, honest and sincere. And yes, it could have worked splendidly. But despite much effort from players and officials alike, the idea has failed. Intentions, no matter how good are not enough to sustain a project so riddled with faultlines. The time has come for the experiment to be abandoned, the chapter to be finished, the book closed and shelved. If we want to reward players there are a multitude of better ways to do so. I for one will be doing my bit in the pulling of the plug on International Rules football; by not attending, watching or in any way encouraging the death rattle of this monster. Parting need not always be such sweet sorrow."
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Post by mickmack on Feb 17, 2007 22:40:19 GMT
Posted on Tuesday, May 30 To whet your appetite for Sunday, we've resurrected Big Al's letter to a Meath fan:
Dear Royalists,
How can one begin to describe and capture the unique greatness of Meath-Dubs clashes? Mind you, we've both had a few great clashes with The Short Grass and The Faithful, and lately you've managed to duck below the radar of the O'Moore insurrection, which reached a pinnacle with last year's Leinster Final. Like Meath in the late 1990s, we have been promiscuous of late with our rivalries. Somewhere along the line Westmeath managed to slay TWO of their big bogeys............but for us it seems its somehow always been about yous and us.
Last year's match between us was a brilliant, unexpected revival. There wasnt another game like it for scores and big hits. But it was the last of the Druid from Dunboyne, the Wizard who had all the magic rings. He started out with a calamitous, self-destructive defeat against the Dubs, with Meath in the doldrums, followed by a tumultuous battle in the 1984 Leinster Final, almost forgotten, but a super game and as much to do with the making of the rivalry as any game.
Then in '85 yous self-destructed again against Laois, and it seemed that there was no way forward. But from the ashes of the lowest dying embers can come rebirth and renewal towards great things, and so it proved, as you finally broke the hoodoo in a storm in 1986. I dont think Jacques Cousteau was wetter than us denizens on the Hill that day, as Barney first slipped in the wet, and then got hobbled. How we railed at the injustice, the impossibility of it all. The end of a great era that sort of left us with a sense of anticlimax. Little did we know........
1987 we tried hard and bravely, a revival of the old guard of '83 saw a sweet League title garnered, the never-dying Kingdom finally slain with the magic boot of the Wolf man of Fingallians, it was small consolation, but all the sweeter after all the Kerry defeats. We dared to dream that we could still be kings of Leinster once again, but Meath were on the up, running away from us, the high ground had been gained, supremacy was yours. For us disbelief and shock turned to resignation and wonder, as Meath marched on to Sam. A sneaking, grudging admiration grew, and at least the Langers didnt win!!
1988, the fun and the drama really begins. Another League Final, another derby clash. Did it go to a replay? I recall Hayes blasting a screamer to the net, and Meath running away with the replay by 8 points, their finest win over the Dubs in all my time. Leinster rolled around again, we had new soldiers rejuvinating our challenge, and revenge in mind. Who would have thought when Charlie missed that peno to get us a deserved draw, that it would start a sequence of tragic failure in major battles that would last for another 6 years un-broken. That Peno was at the Canal end terrace, and went into the Canal I think! The famine was growing, but hope was alive with our promising young talents. Meath went on to prove their dominace, and in classic style outfought the Langers over two games with the great Dr Mc taking the Mater into his own fists and sacrificing himself to the cause! Legends are born on such days....
1989 promised alot, and at first delivered. As Meath waivered in their hunger, and some of the old guard faded, the dashing young Dubs with Vinnie et al, combined with the evergreen double team of Barney and Dully to swashbuckle a return to the top in leinster. Some Royalists claim The Wolf took too many steps on the way to his glorious goal, but in truth his feet and soloing were just too fast to count. Then came Cork, and for a while it seemed that the glory days were back again. Oh how we were fooled! Only now were the gods really beginning to toy with our affections, as an early sublime blitz with Murphy in his best ever form was shatterted by moments of madness, Barr walking, after hitting, the line, another victim of the wily fox Allen, and two of the deadliest penalties ever seen in a big game in the old stadium by the banks of the Royal Canal. Oh the irony of those penalties, crucifying us and telling us though we were not hearing it, that this was only the beginning........the old triangle still didnt drop, as Cork went on to claim a "nice footballing" Sam. The old adage of "Opportunity Knocks, dont wait for to let itself in" was minted that day against Cork, but over several long and winding years would still be hammered into shape......
1990, and inevitability began to sink in. In a typical Dublin-Meath moment of madness an early high ball rebounded from O'Leary/the crossbar,hit the onrushing legs of O'Rourke, and bundled into the net. Meath re-subjected us by 3, and the torture really began......
As Cork regained Sam by finally slaying the Royal dragon, it seemed your days were numbered. As Barney railed against the dying of the light, and more new young Dub soldiers stepped forth to rally the cause of a Capital revival, Meath were preparing for a last hurrah.
The fateful year of 91 was bookmarked and subplotted and cameoed beautifully by a perfect starter, an appetiser so tasty and spicey that you couldnt fail but to order the full main course. Little did you know just what that would turn out to involve.....Kildare, the short grass, were the new kids on the block, the flashy whites, all lean and quicksilver, with their lovely lilywhite football, and lo and behold but in the vanguard of their shiney chariot, the knight in shining armour, if it wasnt our great nemesis himself, Micko of the Waterville Kingdom. In a pulsating battle we were somewhat fortunate to kcikstart a new rivalry with an important confidence booster, and the much vaunted and maligned Vinnie had one of his days. Menawhile, Meath watched from a distance, and slowly, inevitably, they drew their plans against us!
Theres no need to recall in detail the events of those 6 weeks, but one of the greatest sporting epics played out, and men who were heros and villains became legends, and unknown players became heros and villains, and careers were begun and ended, all within the one contest. I think one of my crious memories sums it up, the saturday/friday mornings queueing for tickets from 7am, and how cold it was up until the last game, almost like winter!
That last day, what a game, what a day, what a goal, what a miss,(why Barr? Why could Lyons runalongside him?) what a point and themn........... Jack, oh Jack, Garda Jack, a 67 metre free, and in the words of Micheal on the radio which I recorded, "can he send it all the way over, and become an IMMORTAL here on the 6th of Julyyyyyyyyy!!!" Echoes fading away..............
After that, somehow I just couldnt follow Meath on their epic, heroic 10 game ascent of Everest, and thats unfair I suppose, but you will understand. Everybody knows how the Red and Black came quietly form under the shadows of the Mournes and stole away the crown of greatness that Meath deserved. Somehow maybe that day you knew how we felt, and we knew you....
In 1992 the tide finally began to turn for Dublin against Meath. Intypical fashion yet again a controversial and calamitous goal allowed us a narrow win in another hard-fought battle. It wasnt the same as the great days, as Meath began to rebuild, and Dublin were losing the joy of the chase, too much now beginning to be at stake.
Donegal swept away the underachievements of a century and struck a blow for every county that hadnt dared to dream. I railed against the accusations of overconfidence, but Paddy, dear Paddy threw in the towel, and I'm left from that year with sad thought sof the man who died in o'Connell Street, but great great memories of when the Banner finally came to Croker, and Biddy Early fought a great battle with Biddy Mulligan, in front of the most colourful and joyful fans I'd ever seen. I bought a Saffron jersey for my brother's fiancee from Ennis on her birthday, not knowing that a year later she would be no more for this world. Great memories. I still believed she blessed me that year, for a visit ot Ennis via Limerick co-incided with the Munster Football final between Kerry and Clare, and the scenes I witnessed that day as the Banner won for the first time in 70 years, i will treasure forever from a lifetime of great GAA thoughts.
I will describe 1993 as my happiest moment against The Royal. Another epic battle looked like it had been clung onto for yet another draw and more doubt and disaster for us, when up stepped big garda Jack, and all the bitterness of 91 was washed away in one booming swoop of the ball over the bar, the uprights, and the Hill! The singing going out of their that day shook the GPO rubble foundations....But it still wasnt to be, the pain was to go on, as the Oak came forth and took their breakthrough of a lifetime turn to Foyle our dreams once more.
1994, and its all such a blur I almost forgot that Charlie's curling sideline kick on a drizzly, slippy day squirmed through Mickey McQuillan's fingers and gave us the golden goal to complete a sweet hatrick of retribution over Meath, not to mention a hat-trick of Delaney Cups, after another blowing away of the Lily challenge. So much was good, and yet, and yet. If ever an All-I was ours, it was 1994, Down came in as warm favourites, they blew a strong Cork away for much of the Semi, whilst we had yet another Cinderella, Leitrim who offered no real test. That final was my worst day supporting the Dubs, worse than 91, and it should have been so good. What a thrill to be playing the great Down, the Red and Black, Linden and McCarton, Blaney, O'Rourke. The rain pured incessantly, and the stadium was sadly subdued, reduced to a low capacity because of rebuilding. Why was our best attacking halfback giving psychological advantage to Down by man-marking their best forward? Why not put an ordinary tough grinder like Heery or Moran on him? History wont really show how we owned the ball, and kicked it all away, and Charlie, poor Charlie, I can somehow forgive the peno, it wasnt really a peno anyway, but the rebound Charlie, the rebound?! Hughey Green was making fun of us that day.......and Down mocked us on the Hill with raised fists at the end. I knew it couldnt be over, could it?
Should I be kind and not mention the final absolution of '95? Bryan Adams could have sung about that summer, when the sun never stopped, and Jayo scorched the grass, I listened to our majestic Leinster win on a walkman in a heatwave and thunder in the mountains of North Wales, the most passionate Hill I can remember roared on revenge over Morgan & Cork, and the ecstacy and agony of the final, nerve-shredding escape from tragic failure against Tyrone. I watched in the Goalpost, I had given my ticket away, the ticket i was offered at the last minute, to stay with a mate, it was all a bit strange in the end. Maybe thats only right, as its almost forgotten that the whole glorious thing started with a lucky draw against Kildare, when that Dublin team could have ended it right there. But they were nothing if not resillient........
Since those days, us and you have sort of only flirted, with occasional squally dates. In 96 you mugged us, but in hindsight it was coming, and Meath went on to mock our many years of heroic near-misses by claiming another Sam after an almighty war with Mayo. Meath's reputation for winning all the hard ones was restored, as Boylan weaved his magic again.
In 97 you p.issed on us, for half the game, and then we p.issed on you, as Barr scored a trade-mark classic goal, but it was to be our favourite self-torture of the penalty miss that was to confirm the re-establishment of the bogey. Bealins bounce back off the bar went further than some of our efforts at scores. It was all put into perspective as The Faithful at last made a classic revival to change the landscape of Leinster at last, and all Meath people htought Claffey was some kind of Royal withering disease.....
In 98 we somehow nearly robbed Kildare again, but for them fianlly it was a long, long awaited breakthrough, and for me too, I watched that game in Frankfurt, where a new and exciting life had begun, a good job after many years of economic/financial struggle, and Meath were to be shocked again in a classic final over 3 games, this time the boots on the other feet. Team-rebuilding began a long and painful process for us.
Meath restored the Leinster and national order in 99, the final against us was never in doubt, the 5 points win not a fair reflection of your most emphatic win over the Dubs. It seemed that you could win Sam when you wanted, and our profligacy was only just beginning to sink in. 2000 saw you mugged by the faithful again, while we had a classic draw with Kildare, but they did a Cork in the replay on us, 2 quick and calamitous goals turning the match on its head, and destroying the belief of our new team.
In 2001 our improving team blew it against you as yet again a feast of possession was kicked away. Poor Vinnie in his dotage remained the scapegoat, which bookmarked an irony yet to come. The Backdoors system lit a fire under our attempt at redemption, and led us to a long and winding convoy of cars south for Thurles. We all know what happened next, Vinnie was hero for a day one more time, The Kingdom broke our hearts again, Hayes Hotel and Thurles was magic, how could they collapse so badly against Meath, did you regret chanting ole to themetune their humiliation, and how then did Galway come from the Qualifiers to sweep you away in the final, and bring an end to another era. Fastforward to last year, and we wonder has a new era started, or was it just Boylan and the Dubs, one last time for old time's sake? Boylan's time ended with Meath as it had begun. Whatever, it was a classic 23 years.
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Post by mickmack on Feb 17, 2007 23:02:04 GMT
Written by Bud's in 2005:
Michael O Hehir was astonished as he closed the door on three Dublin supporters who had called to his house on the eve of the 1983 All Ireland. The three Dublin supporters were equally surprised that the legendary commentator hadn’t really taken their complaint on board. After all there is no way a member of RTE should be showing favouritism by driving a maroon coloured car! And so the scene was set for an ill tempered final in which the “dirty dozen” or “twelve apostles” depending upon your persuasion overcame Galway to bring Sam back to the capital for the first time since 1977, notwithstanding the colour of the commentator’s car.
Charlie was only a young lad then on the bench, and although disappointed not to have got a run, he figured there would be so many days like this, that he’d be giving All Ireland medals to his family and friends by the time he hung up his boots, such was his naivety. It would be a full 12 years before the county’s most prolific free taker since Keaveney would pick up his second medal, after more false dawns than you would see in an advertisement for cornflakes.
There was a chance in 1984. Kerry had the better of them in 1985. Then Sean Boylan ensured that Dublin wouldn’t see the latter stages of the championship for some time. The rivalries between the two counties culminated in David Beggy popping over a last minute point to add to Kevin Foley’s earlier goal, to claim the preliminary round of the Leinster championship after game number four some time in mid July 1991.
Not to worry, cos we are Dubs! We are the only county in Ireland who warmly welcome defeat, on the basis that “Sure had they won, the papers would have us as a sure thing for an All Ireland, and there’s still a while to go before Easter!” All the better we were for our experience as we awaited Donegal in the 1992 final after securing Leinster. So confident that the manager slapped his Goalie on the shoulder, on the morning of the match, and said “you’re not worried, are you?”. McEniff headed back to Donegal with Sam under his arm that evening. Paddy Cullen was left licking his wounds, and made room for the three wise men.
Pat O Neill and his team took charge in 1993. A nice Leinster title helped things along. Derry in the semi final this time around. No problem. They choke when they come up to Croker. Indeed so concerned were us Dubs for the chokers that no one noticed their left half back popping up to knock over the winning score with his bad foot from around thirty yards. Meanwhile the clock behind the Canal end into which he scored showed that time was up. Johnny McGurk sent us poor ole dubs back to the drawing board. Derry go on to win the all Ireland.
Roll on 1994. Leinster title number three was secured on our way to the final. Still playing ball in September – how bad. Up Down! The hill groaned as Charlie’s penalty rebounded. Not to worry, he’ll get the rebound. Not if Johnny Barr has anything to do with it! Had Johnny been wearing a Down jersey there would have been another penalty. Fortunately for Down, Johnny was a Dublin sub and cleaned Redmond on the way to booting the ball wide. Another one bites the dust! Down are the champs.
Provincial crown number four was tied down with a very strong 10 point win over our old Meath friends. September 1995. No bleeding ticket! Ref robbed Tyrone of a replay, and me of the chance of seeing us collect Sam. Finally we had reached the Promised Land. “Boom Boom Boom, let me hear you say Jayo!”
O’Neill packed it in, depriving McRory and McKenna the chance to avenge the defeat. A few more followed Dr Pat. Charlie Redmond had done his bit also, and left the scene with two Celtic crosses in his pocket – not quite what he thought in ‘83. Mickey Whelan had a short stint before the Dublin band wagon got up and running again, with Carr at the helm. Barren years followed, but the crack was mighty. We headed on a rare away championship game against Kerry in 2001. All Ireland quarter final. Dubs versus the ole enemy. Half the fans had to abandon cars en route to catch the game in the nearest pub, as the mad cow roundabout moved to Thurles for the weekend. Carr, job under pressure, lost his reason with the poor ref who gave us every decision subsequently. We got back into a game we were never in. Then there was Fitzgerald’s magical sideline point worthy of tying any game. The second day was more straightforward for Kerry, and funny enough they went on to win the All Ireland.
Tommy got bullets in favour of Tommy eile. Carr would have felt hard done by, but most believed that Lyons could instil a bit of fire in the belly. 2002 went like a dream. Lyons courted the media, and the sun shone on the hill. Cosgrove couldn’t miss, and we were champions of Leinster again. Tommy ended up watching the Dublin v Donegal quarter final reply from Blackrock clinic with a dodgy ticker. “Pillar” Caffrey stood in for what would be a little taste of what was to come. Donegal ended up watching the replay from afar also, as they celebrated the drawn match with a little too much gusto around the Portobello.
Back in an All Ireland semi. Armagh this time. What is it about the Northern counties? It seems they like to announce their arrival by beating the Dubs. Down to the wire again. Cosgrove, the hills new darling, takes a last minute free to the left of the goal at the hill end about thirty yards out to level the game. Ball sails high and curls in. Not enough of a curl though and it comes back off the post. Lost by a point. Armagh go on to win the All Ireland.
Not to worry, cos we are Dubs! 2003 arrives with great anticipation. One or two players short of an All Ireland winning side in 2002; we’d mark the 20th Anniversary of the “twelve apostles” by retaining the Sam. Mick O’ Dwyer had other ideas and the Dubs went headfirst through the backdoor. Down but not out. We picked off a few more teams before Jayo told the country that the backdoor draw was not live by announcing at the Special Olympics that we were facing Armagh in the last sixteen (Ooops). Revenge would be sweet. All goes swimmingly well, until Darren Homan gets taken out, and Armagh are down to 14. Not to worry, cos we are Dubs and we are still in control in most positions. Then the madness sets in. Cluxton gets sent off for kicking out at Stephen McDonnell. Lyons takes off his centre back to allow the sub goalie on. Team capitulate.
Pressure on Tommy, particularly when they manage the grand total of three points against Mayo in Castlebar in the 2004 league. Still who cares about the league. Surely 2004 will have better results for the Dubs than 2003. Nobody told Paidi. Westmeath send us crashing, eyes first, through a splintered back door. Rumour has it that the GAA have the draw rigged in favour of Dublin. Other counties don’t realise that to do us a favour would be to put us out of our misery sooner rather than later. Anyway, a few games under our belt to get the confidence back up. Contrary to paper reports it’s hard to garnish much confidence from beating London, Leitrim and Longford. Struggle to an All Ireland Quarters against Kerry. First half looking good. Plenty of possession. Brogan left his scoring boots at home, Jayo has a penalty claim denied, and Whelan whacks the crossbar so hard that the ball rebounds beyond the 14 yard line. Kerry start the second half in better form. Eventually, Paddy Christie is beaten by Dara O Cinneaide when the ball hops of the same post that Cosgrove hit in 2002, into the full forwards lap. Kerry score goal. The confidence built up against the three “L”’s dissipates. Just as well the GAA fixed the backdoor draw. Guess who goes on to win the All Ireland.
Word on the street is that only ten players could sit in the dressing room at any one time as the managements ego was taking up the rest of the space. It was therefore decided to free up some of that space. Our County Board try and dress up a poisoned chalice as something that people might actually want. After unsuccessfully courting half the country, eventually Brian Mullins emerges as the likely lad. After one or two meetings Mullins gets to see the chalice scantily clad and the deal fell out of bed. The players decided to arrange their own training programme and just as supporters started writing to Santa for a football manager, “Pillar” Caffery got the nod.
2005. A fresh start? The jury is out on that one until the league starts - under lights! The Dubs in Parnell on Saturday night becomes the only show in town. “Mossy” Quinn kicks frees off the ground. Moreover they usually go over. Dublin start to reverse the trend of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. Suddenly we are winning games we should have lost. Quinn is showing nerves of steel and the bandwagon is quietly rolling again.
Into the championship on the back of a solid league. A nice warm up against Longford lines us up with a crack at the royals! Goodbye to the Hill Seán, in every sense! Strong character against Wexford suggests these lads might actually do some damage. Bring on the Micko. Last minute 45 secures the first Leinster since 2002 and a kind draw against the losing Ulster finalists. Nice prize indeed! This turns out to be Tyrone by pure accident and an unfortunate Ref. However unfortunate he was, spare a thought for the Dubs. So committed to the GAA are we, that we did such a job on Tyrone in the first half of the drawn game, we helped them to stumble across an All Ireland winning team at half time. Mulligan awakens from a two year slumber, and we’re all set for another replay. Can’t help thinking that we may have missed our chance. Second day out, and a dodgy penalty suggests that this could be payback for 1995. And so it transpires. Payback indeed. I wonder who won the All Ireland! Not to worry, ‘cos we are Dubs!!!
The Dubs don’t do All Irelands, but if they did………………
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Post by kerrygold on Feb 17, 2007 23:03:10 GMT
great article mickmack,i enjoyed the read.It certainly was a great 23 years,i was at most of those games mentioned,i remember o rourke winning a ball on the end line in the left corner forward position in the hill end in the '86 leinster final and cutting across the goal kicking the ball over the bar with his right foot.He strowed back to his right corner forward position,fist clinched,chest out annouching that meath has arrived,it was a late score that sealed the game.
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Post by mickmack on Feb 17, 2007 23:16:54 GMT
Was that the day that Liam Harnan hit Barney Raock a belt of a shoulder and effectively finished him. I think that that BIG AL who wrote the article may be none other than "Rashers Tierney". Could be wrong!
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Post by kerrygold on Feb 17, 2007 23:36:41 GMT
Was that the day that Liam Harnan hit Barney Raock a belt of a shoulder and effectively finished him. I think that that BIG AL who wrote the article may be none other than "Rashers Tierney". Could be wrong! i remember the harnan rock incident,but i cant recall the game,its 20 years ago.Harnan a dairy farmer and the two lyons's,plant hire contractors,were first cousins,savages,you knew that when you had arrived on the fourteen.
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Post by mrtierneyesq on Feb 19, 2007 17:02:01 GMT
Was that the day that Liam Harnan hit Barney Raock a belt of a shoulder and effectively finished him. I think that that BIG AL who wrote the article may be none other than "Rashers Tierney". Could be wrong! And you could well be right my dear sir! Mr Tierney Esquire has often had recourse to conceal his true identity from the prying eyes of the gutter press.........in order to remain true to his art, you understand I must say, whilst it is with some pleasure that I note the none too early conclusion of the latest "Kerry Crisis" with the re-establishment(in all but name) of this forum, I find it to have been a scurrilous underhanded trick of the cutest hoorism kind, to have recently posted on that fine epistle that was the new forum, that this forum was gone for good, departed, expired, deceased, no more, kaputt, in a word...........gone to meet it's maker! And then to have sneaked this forum back up.............like a slieveen in harder times, creeping up a boreen.......with a bowl of soup! To wit, a conundrum occurs to me - why did this forum have to be set up with new name & registration? Nevertheless, I shall endeavour be magnaminous - it's good to see yis back yis feckers.......let battle commence! ;D
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Post by mrtierneyesq on Feb 19, 2007 17:11:48 GMT
And furthermore, no surprise to hear yis conclude the redrawing of dark history with the nice fairytale that "Barney was hit by a shoulder from Harnan and effectively finished". The Rock was battered around for that whole game, including a crunching "tackle" which wrecked his ankle (hence could not kick the big frees on the sodden pitch), and the "shoulder" you mention was a double thug sandwich body-check assault by The Gentlemen Harnan & Foley, which if it had been a Dub, for example against a Kerry player, let's say for argument's sake against Mickey Ned, we'd never have heard the last of it! Otherwise your post is very interesting. I should also like very much to take this opportunity to congratulate Mr Maynard, a true gentleman, on his literary contributions which have adorned our site since Larkin's time & before. Take a bow sir
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Post by seamus on Feb 19, 2007 17:12:12 GMT
Welcome back Gawksie!
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Post by mrtierneyesq on Feb 19, 2007 17:17:27 GMT
It would behove you to keep a civil tongue in your head my good sir! I have not ever in my stretch, am not in this time, nor shall ever be (Mollywilling) in anyway "gawkish". Gormless maybe
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Post by mickmack on Feb 19, 2007 20:43:38 GMT
welcome back rashers......big AL ........Mrtierneyesq.......Jade Goodey or whatever .
As regards that fair shoulder on Barney by Harnan................ barney played on albeit a little off colour unlike mickey Ned who woke up the next day and never played again for Kerry.
I always felt that Barney was too nice (a bit yellow).
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Post by mrtierneyesq on Feb 19, 2007 21:25:28 GMT
welcome back rashers......big AL ........Mrtierneyesq.......Jade Goodey or whatever . As regards that fair shoulder on Barney by Harnan................ barney played on albeit a little off colour unlike mickey Ned who woke up the next day and never played again for Kerry. I always felt that Barney was too nice (a bit yellow). Would you have said MFR or Maurice Fitz were too nice? How about Cooper? I think they seem like similar kind of people. Barney did very well. Cooper is too.........ginger. Like Barney!
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Post by kerrygold on Feb 19, 2007 22:07:36 GMT
welcome back rashers......big AL ........Mrtierneyesq.......Jade Goodey or whatever . As regards that fair shoulder on Barney by Harnan................ barney played on albeit a little off colour unlike mickey Ned who woke up the next day and never played again for Kerry. I always felt that Barney was too nice (a bit yellow). i thought barney rock was as good a forward as they come,top class in my book.
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