MY REACTION to a win in any big match was always more or less the same, as I pretty much wore my heart on my sleeve.
I was fortunate enough to experience some massive wins, which usually resulted in me performing some meandering run with an open mouth, screaming and hugging anyone in close proximity.
One of the most surreal endings to any game came in my club’s Ulster club final appearance against Baillieboro with Pat McEnaney refereeing. We led by three points deep into injury-time and following wave after wave of attack, a 21-yard free was awarded to our Cavan counterparts.
We had been coasting along in the first half and were leading by nine points when all changed. We were haemorrhaging badly towards the end of the second-half and, along with our supporters, we were on the edge in our quest for history.
I saw the Cavan free-taker ask McEnaney how long was left and was probably the only person apart from the free-taker to hear him say that this was the last kick. I stood in front of the goal-line ahead of about eight of our players as the Ballieboro player drilled a low shot which I repelled with my elbow straight back to him.
I immediately took off running with my hands in the air towards the Clones stands and he then drilled the ball expertly into the back of our net. Our supporters looked on in absolute amazement and incredulity as I danced a jig in front of the Gerry Arthurs Stand. The Ballieboro crowd celebrated only for McEnaney to take the bravest of all decisions and rightly disallow the goal. It probably saved my acute embarrassment which would have lasted a lifetime had the goal stood.
Last Sunday, I watched on this time as delirium overcame the players and supporters of Slaughtneil at the final whistle as they achieved something that I don’t think will ever be replicated.
Seeing them win their third Ulster title, I was carried back 20 years in my mind to the greatest of all days which few experience. There is simply no greater feeling, but the Derry champions’ achievements surpass anything that has gone before and few outside perhaps Kilcoo - who came so close - could feel anything but genuine admiration for what they have done as a club.
I then went home, as any good father would do on a Sunday, and watched the two other provincial finals, with Dr Croke’s winning Munster and Corofin taking Connacht honours.
Their reactions at the final whistle were in stark contrast to what I had just witnessed in the tense atmosphere of Armagh’s Athletic Grounds. The Gooch’s reaction to a facile win and the Munster club title was akin to someone who had just played in the opening of a pitch in some remote club. There was absolutely no emotion shown whatsoever after their emphatic win over the Nire by a cricket score in a match that was effectively over after 10 minutes.
The Connacht final was practically identical as Corofin obliterated St Brigid’s in match that was billed as one that potentially could go right to the wire
It’s hard to fathom how both finals, with supposedly the top two teams in their province involved, could end up so one-sided.
You get the feeling that while Slaughtneil were rightly celebrating a ground-breaking success, both the Croke’s and Corofin had already focused their minds on bigger fish. So much so that Sunday was perhaps merely viewed by some as a stepping stone and not to be savoured for any length of time.
That approach would be a mistake as all titles should be relished as if it were your last. We get marginalised sometimes in Ulster with our games being described as tense and attritional. And while quality football might have been rare, it was still absorbing action for the neutral which, for me, swung in one particular moment away from a great Kilcoo comeback and back towards Mickey Moran’s men.
The Magpies from county Down had been awarded a free just inside scoreable distance in a one-point game and, with ball in hand, Daragh O’Hanlon went short. On receiving the return, he coughed up possession and the Emmett’s did what they are becoming experts at. They turned that potentially equalising situation into a two-point game.
It’s probably unfair to pick out an individual who shone throughout and it’s even more rare for that player to be a defender. Yet Brendan Rogers epitomised what is so good about the Derry club and so rare in the modern game. His role was not only to defend, but to support and attack. He did just that, scoring two great points.
What was also very evident was their humility (a quality I don’t possess in abundance), with every one of their team mentioning the word ‘community’ when referring to their victory. Affording a share of this victory to more than just the team is a gesture rarely highlighted by other successful clubs.
Another point that is not lost on me is how low a profile Mickey Moran plays in all of these achievements. He leaves all the plaudits and press work to men from Slaughtneil.
It is a stance that is so refreshingly modest and admirable from a manager and a club that deserve to celebrate their Ulster titles - which may not be the end of what is already a truly remarkable story...
IF ANY of you have had enough darts, snooker and the I’m A Celebrity rubbish which seem to monopolise our TVs at this time of year and you are still craving GAA action this weekend, the final of the Paul McGirr Memorial tournament is scheduled for Saturday at 2pm in Dromore, between St Eunan’s, Letterkenny and St Peter’s, Warrenpoint.
It is a competition that is now in its 17th year and is definitely well worth a visit. It would also be remiss of me not to mention the ladies from my neighbouring club at Shane O’Neill’s.
Only a few years ago, they were involved in the All-Ireland junior competition and now find themselves in the All-Ireland intermediate club final on Sunday in Parnell Park against Annaghdown from Galway.
Good luck to the girls.
