History will record Mayo's as one of the great GAA stories

Continued from last week 

Finally we got to play someone that wasn’t Kerry. Two counties interrelated via their western seaboard location, intermarriage and emigration, Mayo would play Donegal in the 2012 All-Ireland SFC final thus starting our Donegal-Dublin-Tyrone (DDT) years. However, it was the game before the final, Mayo’s win over the then reigning champions, Dublin, that would presage a decade-long rivalry. We just weren’t aware of that then.

That semi-final, for 60 minutes, saw Mayo play like a runaway express only to get a dose of the yips near the end, narrowly avoiding at least a draw. Donegal and Jim McGuinness were in the process of reinventing the GAA wheel. You didn’t need to attack all the time, only when it suited you and your terms. In essence, a traditional rock and roll style team, Mayo, would play the Neo Punks of GAA, Donegal. The winner would take all.

That final turned out that old style was no style. Inches, we hear about them all the time. I’ll pick one out. Cillian O’Connor long endeared himself to me because he refuses to be defined as a soft touch. He carries sandpaper in contact. Though not long out of minor, O’Connor wasn’t to be intimidated by any defender. Donegal’s full-back line was a granite fortress makeup but as they breathed heavy on Cillian, he breathed fire back, flattening one of them. What happened next would help define the match. Two Donegal defenders made their way to both umpires raging fury and finger jabbing, outraged that they missed O’Connor’s act of ‘self-defence’.

A few plays later, Cillian was dragged back onto his backside. It happened in real time and motion as the ball was rapidly transferred. O’Connor appealed for a free, the referee gave one of those dropping low sweeping gestures of ‘play on… nothing doing son’. We had switched off momentarily. A long ball from Donegal came back of our post and was rifled into our net. Sucker punched by two goals inside the first 12 minutes. All those damn inches. Donegal’s targeting of the officials for a perceived injustice earlier on was now counterbalanced by Mayo not getting the free. That goal in essence gave Donegal the opportunity to play the game on their terms.

We struggled to get coherent traction. No, we were never out of the game, equally, we were never really in it either. We hoped. And hope alone won’t win a match. Apart from Kevin McLoughlin, and Cillian trying, our forwards couldn’t work up that head of steam. By the time we got our defensive set-up working properly, Donegal had breached our net twice. Big holes mean fish swim through. We were sunk. I stood at the back of the Canal End, arms folded at Donegal cruised home. A four point loss that carried that message: did alright but not enough.

Michael Murphy’s raising the cup sank my heart. This final is recent enough so it doesn’t need its entrails forensically laid out. Views will be had on match-ups, tactics and poor luck. Ultimately we were once more in the loser’s enclosure. Post match comment was on how green and gold flags stood out clearer in Croke Park than green and red flags as many Mayo followers had difficulty getting tickets for the game.

A year later Dublin were our opponents in the 2013 All-Ireland final. On their journey to greatness and nine All-Irelands, including 2013, they would have dispose of us somewhere on that journey before capitulating in 2021. The 2013 final was one of those finals where we exerted early control with heads up football and confident movement of the ball. Mayo had thrown a curve ball, Keith Higgins, erstwhile corner-back was now operating at centre-forward and pinging passes every where. In fact, Hawk Eye disallowed a perfect point on him. Slim margins cost matches.

A half-time injury to our corner-back saw Higgins redeployed from the red alert zone back into a reshuffled defence. I don’t recall who replaced the corner-back but I do recall the shift in the balance of the play. Ger Brennan, Dublin’s No.6, now no longer pinned down by the elusive Higgins, came forward and kicked a point off his ‘weaker’ foot. From my vantage point on the Canal End, the smile on Brennan’s face was as wide as a canal.

What is it about us Mayo’s who think we can do a Pep Guardiola on it and overthink the opposition? With the curve ball and thorn of Higgins removed, it became business as usual for the Dubs. Seamus O’Shea was called ashore, I could have picked more deserving candidates for the shepherd’s crook that afternoon. Another evening in Gethsemane’s garden awaited. Dublin weren’t a better team than us. But they were better managed.

A fifth Connacht title in-a-row, something not to be sniffed at, followed by a semi-final replay against Dublin, saw 2015 end with a managerial change. James Horan had gone after a titanic semi-final replay against Kerry in 2014 but despite continuing his solid work, the joint managerial team of Pat Holmes and Noel Connelly weren’t deemed the duo to create the kryptonite. Stephen Rochford, successful Corofin club manager, was in charge for 2016 and while not retaining our Connacht dominance, we travelled the scenic route without hitch. Back to another final, we were now in the place where getting to a final wasn’t a great deal anymore.

Dublin would be going for a three in-a-row. We knew where we stood. But we didn’t fear them and they knew that. The stakes were high and the media and Sunday Game experts focused on, believe it or not, Mayo playing on the edge. And worse, getting away with it. Whilst Dublin seemed to have many in the media feeding this narrative, Mayo had no advocate. This was the game of the own goals. Rochford, to his credit, was tactically astute and we seemed to play with a false 3. Vaughan was full-back but seemed to play a tad further out, to me at least. Kevin McLoughlin was tasked with the role of sweeper. In the maelstrom of an All-Ireland final, we appeared to get our feet mixed up and conceded two own goals.

Strangely enough, this galvanised us and there were some great battles, Keegan against Connolly, Brendan Harrison and Boyle to the fore, frustrating Dublin’s big guns. I do recall a Mayo player intercepting a James McCarthy pass; he had a five yard start on the wheeling about McCarthy but somehow or other James got a block in. Amazing. Near the end and Dublin a point ahead, they got a free about 30 yards out on the sideline. We were beside it. Kilkenny raced towards the taker Connolly looking for a give and go, to run the clock down. Diarmuid waved him away and went for glory. The ball tailed off, our goalkeeper claimed it, moved it up the pitch and we hit an equaliser. In front of me I watched the Dublin manager having a word in the linesman’s ear.

The break between the replayed final allowed a narrative that Mayo blew the game over their kickout strategy. In other words, whisper it, the goalkeeper’s fault. I never buy that argument. I believe the recipient of the kickout has as much responsibility as the donor. The second issue that caught fire was Keenan’s perceived tackling style. The Sunday Game and RTÉ were the posse leaders on that issue. For the replay we changed our ‘keeper. Bluntly put, I don’t have an issue with that. The manager made a call. It took balls. The evidence from the drawn match was we lost our last four kickouts. My recollection from the replay, even with the new ‘keeper, is we lost the first four kickouts. Swings and roundabouts.

Keegan got black carded. His eyes to the skies as he watched the brandished card was priceless. Kind of ‘what took you so long’ look. We reshuffled. We also had a goalie malfunction with a black card and Clarke came back, faced a penalty, and was flawless with his kickouts after. This was the gods messing with us. Our honour was intact. The decision to black card Keegan but not sanction a Dublin defender for lashing out at a prone Cillian O’Connor summed up the wall of ice Mayo must always climb in tight tense situations against teams like Dublin or Kerry with their blue chip connections. No shame in that loss, only heartbreak.

A year later the same deadly duo were back at it. In my opinion, this was the greatest All-Ireland final I ever witnessed. Blood and thunder until the end. Andy Moran had an Indian summer, outstanding. Lee Keegan drilled another final goal and Chris Barrett was imperial, turnover after turnover. The Hill was worried. They were in a battle. However, when fate isn’t with you you are damned. In a game of tight margins, every call has a knock on effect. Deep in injury time, Dublin’s sub Diarmuid Connolly was deemed fouled by Barrett. A harsh but crucial call. It gave Dublin the All-Ireland. Simple as that. Our kickout went over the sideline because Dublin players dragged our defenders to the ground. They call it doing what you have to do to win. I call it cheating.

We were cursed and yet I take great pride from us being the only team that stood toe to toe with a generational, exceptional team. In 2018, tiredness saw us exit for the first time pre semi-final since 2011. That’s some record. Covid intervened in 2020, a year that was steeped in history and centenaries of the nation’s birth. A nationwide shut down saw us enter our inner prison world. Sport could be played only under strict conditions and in empty stadiums. Fate also nodded back 100 years, the four semi-finalists, Mayo, Dublin, Cavan and Tyrone were the same semi-finalists as 1920. What was that telling us?

The final was played on Christmas week in a cavernous stadium watched by the ghosts of Ireland’s past. We sat at home, alone, away from our neighbours as this almost surreal match was played out. If the ball hit a post, we could hear the sound echo into our front rooms. My wife was making us a cup of tea as the ball was thrown in. 12 seconds later we were a goal down. Three minutes later we were level. We discovered Oisín Mullin, tried hard, stayed close, but as they say, goals win games, Dublin got two, we didn’t.

Covid spilled into the next season, 2021, as well. Restricted numbers, masked meetings and social distancing was draining our will to live. Mid August in a truncated season, we finally had slain the Dublin dragon. But. It was at the semi-final stage. Reflection now tells us we leaked away our emotion after that game, took too much from the win. Tyrone, like the Foot and Mouth year of 2001, arrived to a final under their own terms and pace. We didn’t. Somewhere between the semi-final win over Dublin and the final against Tyrone, we lost an ingredient. Beaten in every position, every battle and fight. We didn’t deserve anything. And that was that.

This and last week’s piece covers more than 4000 words and seven finals including a replay. One could wrote 2000 words on each final and still go mad. My aim was to parse and purge those finals into a personal snapshot of how I now look back. Our final journey from full page features to then abridged articles, then paragraphs and finally footnotes of dates and full-time scores. Going forward we must make sure that we stay out of the footnote and index section of the narrative. History will in time record Mayo of 2011-2021 as one of the great GAA stories. Dublin’s historic nine titles in that era 2011-2023 will forever be referenced by Mayo’s part in it.