Mayo Connacht Final flashback: Memoirs of John Maughan's shorts and the airshow

It's 21 years since the first Connacht final of the modern era was played in a sundrenched Pearse Stadium. It almost feels like yesterday. The airshow - of all things - was on afterwards. It was 2003 and the country was in the adolescent stages of New Capitalism. The Galway minors won the curtain-raiser, back when there was such a thing, with Finian Hanley at full back and Sean Armstrong at full forward. Keith Higgins was at 3 for Mayo, and Micky Conroy at 14. The senior football championship was an altogether different beast compared to what it is now. There was no monopoly. Every provincial championship was competitive. The defending champions were Armagh, for God's make. Galway had won only two years before. Mayo would be in a final a year later. Anything - literally - was possible, save for John Maughan wearing long pants. On July 6, 2003 under a hot sun in Salthill, he most definitely did not wear long pants. This was prime time on a Sunday afternoon.

There are a few things I remember about that day that came to mind this week. I remember that my brother, Maurice was living with Paul Clancy at the time. The pair were on opposing teams that Sunday, and I recall dropping both of them to separate hotels on the morning of the match, being all-too- aware of the absurdity of the logistics. I recall, too, the horror of watching Clancy being stretchered off after six minutes following a brutal collision with Fergal Costello. A scary moment on an otherwise electric afternoon. 

It's likely the bias in me, but Mayo should've won that afternoon. The impact of a first half penalty miss by Stephan Carolan was amplified by Matthew Clancy's opportunistic goal for Galway just before the break. It was a gap Galway minded - barely- until the death. And so, Mayo headed to Sligo to lose in a qualifier to Fermanagh. Galway went east to Croker, suffering a demoralising loss to Donegal. By then, I didn't care. Mayo were gone, the footballing summer was over before the turf was saved. 

And so we return to Salthill this Sunday for another Connacht Final, except this time the turf isn't even cut. Both teams are so deep into their own respective identity crises, they might learn more by just switching managers at half time and seeing does that makes things any clearer for each other. Kevin McStay is trying to verbalise Mayo into a provincial championship. Padraig Joyce is attempting to monosyllabise Galway to victory. Two contrasting approaches, from two contrasting men, and while, win or lose, they both end up in the same place, the vibes will be very different. 

Do vibes matter? Well, in the absence of any consequential action, yes, they do. For Galway to rebound from near disaster against Sligo by bettering Mayo in Salthill would completely reframe a heretofore indifferent season. For Mayo, their rather laboured summoning of the “Mayo Roar” may well be just an innocent soundbite offered up to placate the hungry masses, but there's a sense of impatience, too, that another summer as underwhelming as last will leave players, management and supporters dissatisfied with their recent pursual of progress over perfection. We all know Dublin are a considerable distance out in front, but it shouldn’t be beyond this team to be challenging Derry and Kerry and Donegal as the best of the rest, should it? 

So, a Sunday of uncertainty beckons. The only sure thing is that this showdown represents the real start of a championship so slow to gather anything resembling momentum. Wards Hotel in Lower Satlhill will be hopping, before and after. If the sun shines, there'll be ten thousand more there than if it doesn't. A bank holiday weekend. A Connacht final. Salthill. Galway versus Mayo. There's enough ingredients in all of that to ensure a Sunday to remember, with or without an air show after.