It Occurs To Me: A win for the syllables!       

  The Davin Stand in Croke Park is very underrated…it’s in the shade and very cool, and last Sunday, it was ultra-pleasant. 

It was the place to be in the second half when Donegal rattled three goals into the net in front of us. After the third, half a dozen Meath supporters departed, one of them saying: “I can’t take any more of this!” 

He had literally been tearing what little hair he had left out by the roots. I was sitting beside Michael Vambeck from Letterkenny, whose successful hairdressing supply business has been operating for over four decades. “Michael” says I, “I don’t think your man will be requiring any of your products!” Earlier, in the Croke Park Hotel, Martin McHugh went past with his arm in a sling (after a shoulder operation, I’m told). One Glenties wag went: “Ah cripes, the Wee Man is injured…not even on the bench!”

There were many representatives from the great 1992 team in attendance…including Anthony Molloy, Manus Boyle, and as you can see in the accompanying photo, Brian McEniff met up with Joyce McMullin and family. 

The atmosphere was electric…by the final whistle, it was stratospheric. The repetitive crescendo of “Don…ee…gal, Don…ee...gal!” made the Meath man mutter: “We haven’t even got a chant...Meath has only one syllable!”

Not a chant…not a chance!  The one area of agreement between the Donegal and Meath supporters was bewilderment at the man in the Leitrim jersey who was wandering about in the stand. Which green and gold team was he supporting?

The best analysis I heard of the prospects for Sam 2025 was from Stephen McCahill outside Croker. “Kerry have five brilliant players. Donegal have 15 excellent ones!”

Brian McEniff met up with Joyce McMullin and family before last Sunday’s semi-final in Croke Park

I shared this with a friend from Listowel who added: “There’s a football rivalry between us, Frank, but we have none of the dislike against ye we hold for Tyrone or Armagh. We have absolute respect for ye…and I know you have for us.”

I remember back in the 70’s when all the Donegal heads supported Kerry…anybody but Dublin! The Kingdom represented us culchies when nobody else was doing it, and our affection for their great footballing county hasn’t changed. Mind you, in ten days' time, when their supporters are trying to stretch ‘Ker…ry’ into three syllables, we’ll stretch another one out of ‘Don…ee…gaw…all!’!

                              The feed before the frenzy

The two old guys at The Maples in Iona Road in Glasnevin were wearing Donegal Creamery DL tops over their shirts and tucked into their high belted trousers. 

“Jesus lads”, says I. “You’ll be roasting out there today!” One of them laughed: “Sure it's the roast we’re headin’ to! The carvery here is some packin.’” 

Right enough, whatever about our highly trained and disciplined footballers, pre-match training for supporters is very demanding indeed!

                           Return of the vuvuzelas?

I’m sure many of you remember the irritating sounds of the Vuvuzela hooters in Cape Town at the 2010 World Cup. Nobody liked them. 

Fifa banned them because the blaring three-foot horns became a phenomenon of their own as they drowned out commentary, distracted players, and left a lasting legacy of sight and sound. 

Their first cousins have started to make inroads into Croke Park and my good humour almost evaporated when a load of youngsters sat over from us in the Davin Stand, many armed with annoying hooters. Mercifully, they were in the wrong seats and were moved, but the GAA should ban them to hell! 

One steward told me that they were the subject of a load of complaints and agreed they had no place in  football or hurling. 

Let’s call them ‘Vuvugaelas’  and consign them to history asap!

                                     The decline of the ‘handbags’

Having a chat and a pint post-match, many were in  agreement that one of the other big pluses in Jim Gavin’s new rules was the lack of fouling and cards of all colours. 

How the game has changed! Here’s a memory from old footballer Phil Atwill who came from my father’s parish in Cavan, and who remembers when ‘handbags’ were the sole preserve of the women. “There was more danger of a row among the spectators nor there was among the teams. I seen when no team could come to kick football in Killeshandra without the town 'neucks', as we used to call them, rising a row. And it was women that riz (gave rise to) the row in several occasions. Scrabby came to kick the Leaguers and the outsiders were prepared. They went into the wood that was merning (beside) the football field and they pulled an arm of ash plants. 

And they came out and when the row riz Scrabby tackled them and they gave the Leaguers a fright that put manners on them from that day till this.

“They lape on one another quicker. They'd run in on top of you and give you the two fists in the stomach and put you on your back. And, if all failed, they lape up with two heels into the chest and put you down. Mickey McGannon was an auld fellow and he'd say, ‘Oh, football's alright, but I don't like to see them slithering down others’ eyebrows with a pair of steel tips on them'. Well they had shin-guards. I got a pair of them shin-guards as a present from one of them (players). Well there was scores cut in that you'd think a man had sunk a ‘cleek’ in them and ripped them up. With kicks!

“There was no such thing as a football boot until 1903. That's the time when football was brought in in a civilised way. Well there was no football match without a row. I went to a tournament in Newtowngore. I was about 18 at the time. And we walked 6 miles from Killeshandra over to it, five or six of us, and we walked home. And we saw five minutes football. The ball was threw in and the match went on between Killeshandra and Aughavas, (from) far over in Leitrim. The row began and it never ceased. There was, I suppose, a hundred men in a ring, in a pile in the middle of the field, boxing. And there was one man, Charlie Gilronan, of Killeshandra. He was a blacksmith. And he was going round the ring and any place he met a polis (police) man he nailed him. Well, there would always be drink because no man nearly went out sober. That was the way it was. They'd get the drink in some town before they'd go. But in tournaments the drink was supplied. It was kept away from the field.”

More than a hundred years later, they’re known as sponsors!