EVERYONE dreams, but not everyone really lives.
While I am nearly sure I never came up with this, I definitely heard it recently in conversation. About a week ago, I awoke from a dream - or should I say nightmare - when I revisited a time I rarely want to recollect.
I dreamt that I had lost a second All-Ireland final. Losing one was bad enough but, second time around, I launched into a tirade on who I could blame for this one (in the dream). Into the bargain, it was against Cork, once again.
In the week leading up to an All-Ireland final, the supporters, the players’ families and your friends are buzzing. Their weekend is planned in a military fashion, but there is absolutely nothing enjoyable for the player in the build-up.
You spend your time distracting yourself from indulging in the nonsense. I say nonsense because you want to enjoy it, but you can’t allow yourself to, with the subconscious playing tricks which may come back to bite you if the result doesn’t go your way. You can just imagine the thought: 'I told you not to go to the opening of that shop last week, if you had kept your head down, you may have won the game!'
There’s sheep being dipped in the county colours to flags being erected on the highest buildings and cousins and long-lost family returning to these shores. The training sessions will be guarded by a couple of heavies, while hundreds of jerseys will be laid out for your name to be inked on them.
All are distractions from the main event. I can only imagine, for the Dublin players, that the city may be big enough to hide away for a couple of weeks and, if you had a baseball hat and a hoodie, you may just get away from it on Grafton Street.
You have less chance in Westport or Castlebar. When I try to remember the build-up, I only recall trying to help arrange tickets for certain people I wanted to repay for their help over the years in getting me to where I was. Call it guilt or whatever, I never liked saying no. I probably cared too much how people would view me if I didn’t come up trumps.
People ask me if losing a final ever comes into your thought process prior to the game. You can try and be the big man and say no, but the reality was the fear of losing rarely left your mind. On the flip side, you couldn’t help but think of the bus journey home with Sam Maguire, taking it into Newry and out to Saval, my own club. You couldn’t help but think of the few days you would have basking in the glory of joining a very elite club in Down as winners, one which is still held with huge esteem throughout Ireland and the world.
On the last session of the weekend, we were handed an itinerary for the next few days. It naturally presumed we would be returning as winners and, for four or five days, would be on a victory tour of the clubs of the county.
As it turned out, Monday’s itinerary was followed, the rest was cancelled. Whether, in hindsight, this was a good idea or not doesn’t really matter as it had nothing to do with the result on the day. Silly mistakes and probably a bit of bad luck mean that, to this day, I still wake up after the same nightmare, the same result and with the same sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
That feeling never goes away but, while you may wish it did, I would still rather have lived this dream (or nightmare) than not lived it at all.
THERE’S nothing lucky about Dublin’s path to this year’s All-Ireland Senior Football Championship final.
They are, by far, the best team in the country and have deserved to beat everyone and everything in front of them. They say the harder you work, the luckier you get and this is as true in life as it is in sport.
Dublin are the best team in the country because they are the hardest working team. They have the best players, who have worked the hardest to get to this stage of their careers. Well away from the 84,000 who will attend the game on Sunday, it is the hours and hours of fitness, skill development and dedication each player has given to the Dublin panel up to this point.
When Eoghan O’Gara is landing points such as the final one the last day out against Kerry, you see a player who has transformed sheer raw strength into something quite polished. That doesn’t happen overnight.
Losing finals, indeed losing matches, becomes a habit, particularly important matches. Some teams really wilt under pressure, when expectation is highest. Like it or not, Mayo have wilted since 1953 and, while they have not reached the dizzy heights of previous campaigns, they have one thing going for them which I never remember a Mayo team possessing - luck.
They were quite fortuitous in both the quarter and semi-finals, when Tyrone and Tipperary had their chances and failed to capitalise. Players such as Cillian O’Connor, Andy Moran, Aidan O’Shea and Lee Keegan have been playing particularly well in these bigger games, when they have failed to deliver on similar occasions.
They say give me a lucky general as opposed to a good general. Unfortunately though, Mayo will still have to be brilliant and Dublin below par if Sam Maguire is to go west. Lucky as Mayo have been to date, this is one game where their luck could run out.
Worst of all, it’s the biggest day of all. Dublin to win and continue the long Mayo nightmare, one which seems unlikely to end anytime soon, as long as this Dublin team hangs around anyway.
