McDonald proves the future has arrived

They tell you to wait – to let the years do their work, to let the frame fill out, to give him time. But what’s the point in waiting when Kobe McDonald is already here, 17-years-old and tearing a Mayo senior quarter-final apart like he’s been doing it for a decade? His body still has the rawness of youth about it, the sort of teenage frame that should be a hindrance against seasoned men. And yet it isn’t. Not for him. He slipped through Belmullet’s lines as if physics itself was indulging him, demanding the ball, dictating the game, bending it to his will. The youngster arrived on Sunday evening carrying the future under his arm like it was just another size five.

By half-time, the scoreboard read 0-14 to 0-3, and it barely flattered Crossmolina. From the first throw-in they snapped and snarled, winning every loose ball, breaking every Belmullet attack before it could breathe. Ryan O’Donoghue, usually the spearhead at the top of the North Mayo club’s attack, was reduced to two frees in the opening 30 minutes. Gary Boylan managed the only Belmullet score from play in the half, and that came as the whistle was in the referee’s mouth. Everything else belonged to maroon jerseys.

And yet, for all the collective hunger, it was McDonald who turned dominance into theatre. He wandered from midfield to the edge of the square, drifting into pockets of space nobody else noticed, and wreaking havoc when the ball found him. One sequence summed up just how he controlled the game: Jordan Flynn fizzed a ball low into the inside line, McDonald caressed it from his toe into his stride, spun his marker as though it were the easiest trick in the book, and slipped Niall Coggins through on goal. The finish was smothered by Shane Nallen, but the move was pure prophecy – a teenager seeing the play three steps ahead of everyone else, dictating the rhythm like an old maestro.

After the break, Belmullet attempted to tighten the grip on McDonald and tried to drown him in attention. And yet he seemed to revel in it. By the hour mark he was still darting into space, still demanding the ball off the shoulders of teammates, still running like the game had only just begun.

His final tally was 1-5, but the numbers only sketch the outline of the performance. He clipped points from the ground, swung them over from play and then produced the moment that sealed the afternoon. The goal didn’t come out of chaos; it came out of foresight. The tyro had seen it brewing, ghosting into a pocket, ensuring that when the break came, he was alone. One clean strike, one green flag and the contest was over.

What stayed in the memory was not the margin on the board but the image of McDonald still drifting into open country as the game wound down, as if the field had been drawn to his preferred dimensions. For others his age, the walls usually close in and the spaces vanish. For him, they kept parting, like curtains being drawn back.

Every county has its prodigies, its whispered names who might one day step into the breach. Most of them take the slow road – a league debut here, a summer cameo there, years of gym work before that promise finally hardens into presence. But McDonald seems to have no interest in that script. He is already vaulting straight from prospect to protagonist.

Obviously, his surname carries a certain resonance in the county, and there are shades of inheritance in the way he ambles into games with that same nonchalant menace. There will be voices who say patience is still the wisest course, that he must be minded, managed and eased along. And maybe they’re right. But there comes a point when performances stop asking politely and start demanding recognition. On Sunday evening, the young Crossmolina man crossed that line.

Last year’s All-Ireland intermediate champions haven’t stumbled upon a wonderkid by accident. They have built a system that makes space for young men to grow in public. McDonald may be the brightest of them, but he is not alone. This is a club that has lifted a cohort of underage winners and fast-tracked them into senior football without snuffing out their spark. It is one thing to nurture talent; it is another to trust it under the spotlight of a county quarter-final. Crossmolina has done both.

And that is where this story diverges from the usual Mayo tale. In this county, hype has always run a step ahead of reality. But Crossmolina has gone about it differently. They have not held up McDonald or any of his teammates as messiahs-in-waiting. They have blooded them, trusted them, let them learn in real time.

The result is not just one prodigy bending games to his will, but a club tilting the balance of power through a wave of youth. McDonald is the sharpest arrow in that quiver, but the story is larger than him. It is about a place that has decided tomorrow is too far away and that the best way to prepare for it is to play it now.

And that lesson does not stop at the parish boundary. If Crossmolina has shown anything, it is that the future cannot be kept wrapped in cotton wool. It must be trusted, tested and thrown into the furnace before it is fully formed. That is where Mayo, as a county, often hesitates. They talk about pathways, about patience, about protecting young legs until they are ready. But sometimes readiness is not a matter of age or frame; it is a matter of temperament.

McDonald proved that on Sunday, and so did the teammates who have stepped with him from underage to senior without blinking. The county would be wise to take the hint. The next great Mayo team will not arrive ready-made; it will have to be shaped in the cauldron.

The only question is whether Mayo are bold enough to follow Crossmolina’s lead.