Golden Oldies and a Sunday morning adjusting to a new high

With exactly 11 minutes to go in Tullamore on Saturday evening last, my significant other began imploring referee Joe McQuillan to blow for full time. Now read on…

After removing the Michael out of the poor woman over her time keep miscalculation, it was readily admitted that such was the astonishment and excitement surrounding the fact that Meath were ten points ahead of supposed good things Kerry, losing track of time was a small price to pay.

Even though in all honesty the job was done by then. Bryan Menton’s 56th minute goal putting the ice cream in with the Jaffa Cakes. Yes, 35-year-old Bryan Menton. Who came back into the county fold after two seasons away.

Tempted back by the developments prompted by Jim Gavin’s football revolution. Which has tempted Bryan and Donal Keogan and Michael Murphy and Paul Conroy to, in one case, return to the fold and with the others soldier on where heretofore they were left feeling like it was no country for old men!

The proliferation of ‘old fashioned’ football both in terms of attacking and defending is naturally less taxing both physically and mentally than the robotic, pedantic, negativity-skewed dross which predicated the inception of Gavin’s group in the first place.

As Sean Boylan said to yours truly in the aftermath of Saturday’s tremendous success in Glenisk O’Connor Park, the ‘new’ order is encouraging lads to play with a bit of confidence and “Back themselves to have a go”. Meath certainly employed both those facets of the above with interest.

To the extent that when Eoghan Frayne tapped over a 21 yard free after the half time hooter when Kerry were pinged for a defencive breach, it left the underdogs with a six point cushion which was the very least they deserved.

Cathal Hickey’s ‘acquisition’ of a black card right from the second half throw in was far from the worst thing which could have befallen the outsiders.

In fact, it was statement of defiant intent. We haven’t gone away, you know, and we’re going nowhere. In fact, our lads displayed maturity and composure which belied their fledgling levels. No kneejerk reactionism. No panic.

Rather, like a mechanic who cops he has the wrong wrench out, a quick readjustment in the toolbox and rectify the situation with the appropriate hardware.

Translated into football-speak, that manifested as Conor Duke dropping out to midfield or deeper and Ruairi Kinsella doing likewise. Playing when I like to call the ‘floating’ centre forward role.

Dropping deep into our own half of the field, augmenting the defencive effort, starting counter attacks and – in the case of the Dunshaughlin dynamo – finishing plenty of them.

All the while, David Clifford’s influence was nullified to as good a degree as anybody has managed since the Fossa phenom exploded onto the scene as a freakishly good Minor.

No doubt the simplistic explanation would be that (a) the great man is human and entitled to an off day (true) and that the Kingdom were short five of their top performers and (c) they didn’t have to win.

Aside from the fact that such an assessment is grossly disrespectful to Meath (and bought by plenty), no team goes out to deliberately lose. Especially in Kerry, where Jack O’Connor’s credit score garnered from past glories won’t count for dung if he doesn’t update them shortly.

The fact is, Kerry never got back into the contest because they weren’t let. The belief, commitment, composure, hunger and abundance of skill amassed by young and old in the Meath camp from good days, bad days and indifferent harnassed with the new rules allowing the exploitation of what have traditionally been the central tenets of our methodology.

Swarm defending, pacey counter attacks, high fielding, long kicking and the confidence to have a crack for a score from well out the field.

All of that against a backdrop of discourse beforehand about how Kerry were without x, y and z of their stars whilst conveniently ignoring the fact that the Royal backroom team had to plan without Brian O’Halloran, Jack Flynn, Ronan Jones, Mat Costello, James Conlon, Jack Kinlough and Conor Gray. And you needn’t try and tell me any or all of the above wouldn’t be as big a loss to Meath as Kerry’s casualties were to them.

Conversely, though, that Meath were able to circumnavigate their absences and drive on is the greatest illustration that they have developed the strength and depth which is prerequisite to having ideas of doing anything noteworthy at the highest level nowadays.

Hence, Hickey, Ronan Ryan, Adam O’Neill and Keith Curtis, on Saturday, for example, putting in mighty shifts when need was greatest. While special mention must also go to Cian McBride who played his part when introduced. Enjoying his best outing in a Meath jersey since returning from Australia as, collectively, Brennan’s brigade produced what I would class as the best display by our men’s team in senior championship football since the win over Tyrone in 1996.

“On a Sunday morning sidewalk, I’m wishing Lord that I was stoned, ’cause there’s something in a Sunday, that makes a body feel alone. There aint nothing short of of dying that’s half as lonesome as the the sound, of the sleeping city sidewalks, Sunday morning coming down”.

Sunday Morning Coming Down – Johnny Cash

Count has been lost of the amount of times yours truly has welled up, often just thinking of the above lyrics, without even hearing the song at all. For a million reasons and none. Sporting ones, and others which will never go beyond me and the control tower between my shoulders. The most recent Sunday morning, though, was different.

Coming down off the sort of GAA-related high that the county has yearned for, probably since the Ladies team last lifted the Brendan Martin Cup in 2022. And they more than played their part on this occasion too, in circumventing the horrendous conditions at wintry but impressive Manguard Park, Hawkfield in Newbridge at lunchtime on Saturday.

This was a third meeting between the sides this season with the initial pair divided. Pat Sullivan’s side emerging triumphant in monsoon like conditions at the National Sports Campus in Abbotstown during the National League before Meath went to Cedral St Conleth’s Park in Newbridge and turned the tables on the hosts. Thereby annexing a place in the Leinster SFC Final against Dublin. A match they should really have won, having been seven up with 11 minutes left.

However, as had turned out to be the case with the lads, having to go the scenic route may not have been the worst development to befall Shane McCormack’s team. Ironically, however, it was somebody of Group One Meath and GAA pedigree, Lauren Murtagh – daughter of former Champion Jockey and burgeoning trainer Johnny and granddaughter of hurling legend Michael ‘Babs’ Keating – who caused the Royal girls most problems.

Yet, a couple of Emma Duggan frees were enough to ensure the sides went in deadlocked at the midway point. And, despite a couple of atrocious decisions from referee Seamus Mulvihil – disallowing a perfectly good Duggan goal and Binning Vikki Wall for no more than trying to get by her direct opponent. But sure, then, it’s becoming increasingly clear that at least some of officialdom have it in for our Dunboyne star and, it’s getting to the stage now where powers in the county to start taking a stand about the blatant scapegoating the player.

In any event, Duggan’s deadly accuracy and two wondrous long range efforts from the trusty left boot of Marion Farrelly put the issue beyond doubt. Mind you, as with the men’s match later that same evening, not without the input of often unfortunately unheralded troops like Aine Sheridan, Robyn Murray, Sarah Wall, Megan Thynne and the introduced duo of Katie Bermingham and Shauna Ennis.

So, it was a different sort of Sunday morning coming down after the incredible highs of the day and night before. We got no credit, and we won’t be given a chance next time out either, but that’s ok, we’ll refuel and go again. We’re at the third last hurdle for two All Ireland titles. The knockers and begrudgers can sit on it and swivel!