The fan's view: Mayo versus Cavan

“Engine malfunction”, screamed the message on the control panel, as the warning alarm sounded and the lights on the dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree. I was leaving Castlebar on the commute home on Friday evening, and the way things were looking, I might have to stay until throw-in on Saturday.

“It'll be Wednesday or Thursday at the earliest,” proclaimed the mechanic when called upon to deliver first aid (or more likely, the last rites). There was nothing for it. Amidst several stops and starts, and a few indignant drivers who assumed I was holding up the traffic for the craic, we eventually stuttered home. I was fairly sweating, but what else would one expect from a car with a Roscommon registration? I hoped it would be the only engine malfunction to occur over the weekend.

It's only when you don’t have a car you realise how reliant upon it you’ve become. On the plus side, we are doing a Steps to Health challenge at work. It’s an ill wind, and all that. I had to call in a few favours from friends with functioning engines over the weekend, and - not for the first time - my pal T came to the rescue for the match trip. K had the late lunch ready and waiting for us, and after a feed of Castlebar’s finest fajitas we gathered the last of the crew and made our way into the stand.

That, of course, was a rookie error – every regular Hastings Insurance MacHale Park frequenter knows that when the sun shines and there is no risk of rain, you head for the terraces to avoid being blinded. We were clearly out of practice, but were rewarded with some baskworthy early summer sunshine – perfect championship weather. We had several layers, but not a hat between us. “The botox will be melted in me head” lamented one of the crew.

NO ENGAGEMENT

So why didn’t it feel like a championship outing? Why, despite a sizeable visiting crowd, was the attendance miniscule, especially by Mayo standards, with empty seats in prime positions? Why did the team announcements, usually greeted with applause, raise barely a murmur? Why was the atmosphere so leaden that you could hear the players calling to each other on the pitch? On paper, at least, this had the makings of a relatively interesting contest, so why the evident lack of engagement?

Was it the lingering malaise, post-2021? Was it the price of tickets, again on the steep side? Was it the perceived lack of jeopardy? The latter is definitely a factor. A Cavan man behind me was heard to mutter before throw-in: “This round robin shtuff is a load o’me b******s”. It was hard to argue. Still, by half time, the same buck might have been happy enough to have another game on the horizon to which to look forward, because this one wasn’t going too well. Nevertheless, worrying times for the GAA, who have made of the championship what another nearby Cavan man succinctly proclaimed “a hames of the thing.”

It was no performance for the ages from Mayo either. One of ours – a fan of direct football - let the frustration get the better of them. “Enough of this tippy-tappy sh*te!”, they protested loudly after a sequence of several particularly laboured passes, much to the amusement of those around them, who collapsed into a fit of giggles, the likes of which hasn’t been seen in Castlebar since we last beat Galway. We got the win, but despite the margin it was far from convincing. My mind drifting off sometime in the third quarter, I pondered what I would do if I should, in some kind of unhinged parallel universe, become a manager. The first thing, I decided, would be to equip players with a device that would administer an electric shock every time a player kicks a ball backwards, with an increase in voltage every time such an offence occurs. I am patenting this technology as we speak, and fully expect demand for my new business idea to be so great from within this county alone that I will be able to afford a full fleet of functioning cars.

The loudest reaction of the day came in response to the introduction of Aidan and Paddy, the sight of the latter in particular provoking raptures from the Mayo crowd. It was all the more devastating therefore to see him lying cruelly prone, in agony at the final whistle, surrounded by an onslaught of children and overgrown children. In the absence of an update at the time of writing, here’s wishing him the mildest of injuries and the speediest of recoveries.

UNACCEPTABLE

A note too, re the poor accessibility in MacHale Park. A friend who is a wheelchair user attended, and having no option but to locate at the very front of the stand had their view partially obstructed for the entire game by a steward standing inside the barrier, and for the last ten minutes, fully blocked by hordes of children waiting to launch themselves onto the pitch at the final whistle. People with disabilities pay the same for their tickets as everyone else and in such an expensive stadium, it is unacceptable that if they wish to be among the crowd in the stand and not behind glass, that this is the poor experience they have. Not to mention the exposure to the elements on wet days. Perhaps something for our county board to consider, or even better, act upon. Surely an inexpensive solution can be put in place – or if already in place, better promoted.

Back to the championship. Déjà vu awaits in two weeks as we turn our faces back towards Dr Hyde Park. Let’s hope the result will be similar this time. And that by then I have a functioning set of wheels. But for now, at least my steps are through the roof!