AGAINST THE BREEZE
FIFTEEN years ago, I found myself faced with a difficult decision. Back then, I worked in the real world.
But I had a notion of becoming a journalist. In order to make the leap, I had to quit a job, take a loan from the bank, and return to full-time education.
I am not a natural gambler so I was anxious. I wanted to try my hand at journalism, but if things didn't work out, I would have wasted a year, gone further into debt and I'd be on the dole.
In urgent need of wise counsel, I rang an old-timer. A retired journalist, my advisor knew the trade inside out.
His guidance was unequivocal.
He begged me not do to it. He implored me to see sense. "You must be stone mad," were his exact words. "Stick at what you are doing," he said. I listened to him. To be fair, he made a lot of valid points.
But at the end of his diatribe against his chosen vocation, I asked him one question. "If you had to do it all again, what would you do?" I asked.
For the first time in the conversation there was a long pause at the other end of the line. The reply which followed has lived with me ever since. "Well Paddy," he said, "I suppose it beat working for a living."
And with that response, I was sold.
Croke Park on Sunday certainly didn't feel like labour.
Kerry 1-16 Mayo 1-16. It was a privilege to be there. First, we had the Mayo comeback. Then, it was Kerry who stared defeat in the face. Enter Kieran 'Star' Donaghy. Never was a player so aptly named.
It was like Elvis at Vegas. We thought he was gone. Turns out, he's just a little heavier, but the magic resides.
When Donaghy's two big hands went reaching into the heavens, he not only grabbed the ball, he also brought down some stardust, which he sprinkled over all of us. Following a summer of thoroughly underwhelming football, the press box on the seventh floor suffered a collective outbreak of happiness on Sunday. For a few incredible moments, men who are paid to write about sport, sat back and savoured the magnificence of what they had seen.
It was like being in the presence of people who were experiencing a communal drug-fuelled high. As we made our way to the post-match press conference, there was virtually no talking. The analysis could wait. Better to just float on the waves of satisfaction which the two teams had sent flooding out of the stadium.
But like any party, there is always a comedown. Yes, the euphoria was enjoyable while it lasted, but the wider implications of what we witnessed cannot be ignored. After watching Kerry and Mayo, it is now abundantly obvious that neither team has a chance of beating Dublin.
The reason for this conclusion is simple. Both Kerry and Mayo are set up to outscore the opposition. While there is nothing wrong with that ideology per se, it contains one fundamental flaw. Neither of these teams has a hope of beating Dublin in a duel. Kerry are well-drilled, but limited. Five points up and with an extra man, Mayo played them off the pitch.
On Sunday, Mayo proved beyond any shadow of a doubt that they are congenitally incapable of executing a defensive system. Their attempt at playing a sweeper system was an unmitigated disaster.
In essence, Mayo have no choice. They have to stick to what they have been doing. But how can a Mayo attack that lacks a marquee forward rack up more scores than Alan Brogan, Bernard Brogan, Diarmuid Connolly, Kevin MacManamon, Paul Flynn and Eoghan O'Gara? That's right. It's not going to happen.
That leaves us with one unavoidable conclusion; this weekend's clash between Dublin and Donegal is the de facto All-Ireland final.
Why can't Donegal be dismissed in the same manner as Kerry and Mayo? The answer lies with their basic philosophy.
Kerry and Mayo set out to score more than their opponents. But no team is going to beat Dublin in a shoot-out In stark contrast, Donegal set out to concede less than their opponents. Therein lies a major difference.
Donegal strangle. They smother. They suffocate. In the Ulster final, they restricted Monaghan to 10 scores, 1-9.
Dublin are the unstoppable force. But Donegal are the immovable object.
It's going to be a fascinating collision of styles.
Many neutrals are already fearing for Donegal. Dublin are scoring for fun. The All-Ireland champions average roughly 26 points per game. Donegal average about 17 points a game. The maths make frightening reading.
But people were grieving for Muhammad Ali before he fought George Foreman in Zaire. Their sympathy was wasted.
Foreman punched himself out. Foreman hit the air. He hit elbows and gloves. He didn't land a shot where it counted.
Donegal will effectively try to replicate Ali's famous rope-a-dope tactics. The finer details of how they will try to neutralise Dublin's frightening arsenal of weapons remains unknown.
Will they pressurise Stephen Cluxton's kick-outs? If so, how will they do it?
Will they retreat into a defensive shell and invite Dublin's half-back line to attack?
When Donegal counter-attack, will they kick or carry?
If Dublin carve open a gap, how will Donegal chase the game?
It can be assumed that Jim McGuinness has put Dublin under a microscope and studied every minute detail of their gameplan. During their five-day training camp in Johnstown House last week, Donegal will have painstakingly rehearsed every facet of their performance.
Like Stephen Cluxton said in his acceptance speech last year, Dublin's coaching principles can be summed up in three words: 'repetition, repetition, repetition.' Jim McGuinness would wholeheartedly agree.
Donegal haven't been given a chance. The bookies rate them as 7/1 outsiders. The Dubs (1/10) are fully expected to trounce them. But the challenge facing Donegal is bound to stimulate their imaginations.
If they lose, they lose a game. If they win, they enter the pantheon of legends.
Con Houlihan once wrote: "I greatly respect people who go into the arena and seek glory while risking humiliation."
Those are the precise fates that await Donegal this Sunday.