Ruislip is a tribute to all who have promoted the GAA in London

It may have been impossible to get around Ireland last Saturday, but we got to Ruislip.

With a 2.30pm throw in, many of the Mayo gaels had travelled to the match the day before. Dublin Airport early on Saturday morning was where match day started for your correspondent. Wandering around wearing a Mayo crest when you are not in Mayo always attracts attention. Speaking now from my experience, it works especially well in Dublin Airport on a match day.

Walking into the departures area, it took all of two minutes for the first son of Mayo to hail me. This particular man did not need to see my crest to know my loyalties. A great supporter himself, I asked him – with certainty in my mind – which flight for London he was on. There was a pause. ‘Aintree’, said he, a little sheepishly. This was the first hint that while this game was the start of the season, it wasn’t really championship.

But it was a Mayo match, and so, as I boarded the 8.40 to Heathrow, the volume of salutations increased. We supporters can spot each other a mile away, though the tops and the baseball caps make it that little bit easier. Those exchanges are often warm and hearty, the meeting of old friends with a shared endeavour. They can also be subtle: with the little nod of greeting and the look that signals both that we sometimes wonder if we are half mad, but that also reassures that in our hearts we know we are not.

That meeting of minds and hearts happens fast. On the opening day of Championship 2026, the Mayo people on board this aircraft – including a crew member – had one another well identified before the wheels left the ground.

The plane was full of other sporting types too, with a large contingent heading to support the Irish women play their international rugby match in Twickenham. We all chatted across the sporting barricades, translating our respective sports and our love of them to each other as best we could.

When we landed in Heathrow, I took the chance to grab a coffee and a snack. While queueing, the rugby theme continued when I met that most rare of things, a man taller than me. With the sporting theme in the air, I started a conversation by noting this young man’s height and asking him a question: ‘second row?’ Why would I ask such a thing? It was partly because of the sporting theme of the day, but mostly because of Trinity College. When I went to college in Trinity in 1994, a chap remarked on my height one day and then asked me – just like I did last Saturday – if I was a ‘second row’. In 1994, dear reader, I did not know what a ‘second row’ was. Now, I know it’s the tall one on the rugby team.

The young man I asked was, of course, a second row. That opening prompted a further conversation about my own sporting mission, which inevitably led to me first attempting to explain why London plays in the Connacht Football championship and then on to the rules of hurling. Now, diehard GAA man as I may be, I don’t know how to hold a hurl. But by the end of our conversation, the towering second row understood the rules of hurling better.

I might not have done it justice in my explanation, but walking in the gates of McGovern Park made the reasons for London’s involvement in the championship abundantly clear. The place was full of those from Mayo and of Mayo, engaged in animated conversation and just enjoying each other’s company.

As each person walked in, they met old friends and neighbours. The mood was relaxed and jovial. For my own part, I met old friends from Westport, Bohola, Balla, Ballina, Belmullet, Louisburgh, to mention but a few places, and many, many people from my own back yard of Kiltimagh and Craggagh.

The new stand in the ground is mightily impressive. It is a real tribute to all who have worked to promote our games across London, as is the quality of the pitch. The craic was good in the area around the clubhouse, and this meant that the stand and terrace were a little slow to fill. This might have had something to do with not being able to bring drinks into the pitch area – a change from when I was last at a match there. So if there was any doubt before, it is now confirmed: watching London GAA and watching rugby are truly different.

The sun shone for the most part, but in the first-half we got that most west of Ireland of things – a dirty shower. The stand, or at least the covered part of it, filled rapidly in response. The downpour was mercifully brief but the combination of the sun and the wind and the clouds and the showers made Ruislip a true home from home. Climatically, this was truly a day for the Connacht Championship.

But there was far more sun than anything else, and so the relaxed atmosphere was unaffected. And truthfully, neither was the relaxed atmosphere affected by the match. It was championship, but not as we know it. Decent and all a side as London are, there was none of the edge that we associate with a full-throated championship game. That showed in the crowd.

At half-time the atmosphere was flat. The only concern was that we had not put up a big enough score with the aid of the wind to feel fully comfortable. The goal for London at the start of the second-half flickered that concern into a brief flame of anxiety, which Mayo then snuffed out with an assured second-half performance.

After the game, there was a lovely scene as the kids raced on to get pictures with the ever obliging and patient players of both teams. It was especially nice to see so many of the London players getting photos on the pitch with their family. And so as the game ended, the craic re-started. When I left it, it was only getting going.

To start Championship 2026, London put on a good show on and off the pitch. As for us, well, we go again: old friends with a shared endeavour.