The buzz is back - bring it on

As a child, I used to have a recurring dream. Someone or something would be in frenetic pursuit, and I’d be trying to reach a place of safety. Just as I’d get within touching distance, it would disappear into thin air and reappear in the distance. Sometimes, my run would be slowed by a quicksand-like substance, and the place I needed to reach would slip away. I would be left bereft, defeated, and weakened, at the mercy of what was chasing me.

For years now, Mayo teams have been within touching distance of that place of peace and safety, away from the gloating, criticism, and pity of opposition fans, media, and the public. Hope springs, we meet major milestones, but the ultimate summit remains unconquerable. Death by a thousand cuts is tiring.

That may explain why many Mayo fans this year have chosen to step off the path, to stay in the shadows and rest for a bit. It is the reason grounds have fallen quiet and our manager has pleaded for support. There is enough disappointment in the real world. There are other factors, including the shambles the GAA has made of our championship, but while a supporter’s job is to support, it works both ways.

As fans, while we know our team needs us, we too need them, to inspire us, to light the spark and fan the flames of the so-called Mayo Roar. It is not something that can be forced, faked, or generated on demand. It is barely voluntary; it is primal, driven by instinct, a reaction in the heat of battle. It is a guttural war cry, that both generates and consumes masses of energy. The Mayo army, off the pitch at least, had limited energy reserves remaining. But on Sunday in Dr Hyde Park, the fans proved we are not dead yet, and this younger team showed they can lift us, and in turn, be lifted.

I wasn’t particularly looking forward to this game. My sister and I had spent two days in Dublin at our uncle's funeral. Quite, unassuming Marty lived in the shadow of Croke Park behind the Cusack Stand, was a member of the Croke Park Community and Handball Centre (“the club”), where he played many a game of pool and enjoyed a pint or two. Despite 50 years spent in the capital, Marty steadfastly remained Mayo to his core. The club members gave him a lovely send-off, kindly feeding and watering us after the ceremonies in honour of their friend. ‘The Green and Red of Mayo’ rang out to mark his final departure, and we hoped he might throw a bit of luck our way on Sunday.

The sun was shining – yet again - in Roscommon. The town was buzzing with Dubs, high on the unfamiliar thrill of being west of the Shannon. The driver went to meet friends in blue jerseys. The rest of us went for lunch, and we all made our way to what has become “our” spot. It’s been a long time since Dr Hyde Park has heard so many soccer chants. Hard going, but it was fantastic to also hear the Mayo chant ring out once again. We live. It showed just how incredible even round robin games can be when played in the right venues.

Hands up, like the majority of Mayo fans, I didn’t give us much of a chance. So, it was a bit rich of me to feel so frustrated at the final whistle. At the last kickout, it felt like the entire Mayo support was screaming as Ciaran Kilkenny soared: “PULL HIM DOWN!” With three Mayo players around him, Kilkenny managed to get the pass away to Jack McCaffrey. Bob Tuohy gave chase, but to no avail. It was beyond sickening to hear the deafening Dublin roar as Cormac Costello fisted the ball over the bar. This final sequence unfortunately showed why Dublin are winners and Mayo are not. Kevin McStay acknowledged, “We had to foul him… rugby tackle him. Shoot him. I don’t know. Get a rope. Do anything!” Let’s hope his team takes note of this because with Derry ahead, we will need every trick in the book, cynical or not.

When the dust settled, and the adrenalin abated, there was much to take from the performance. After weeks of stuttering through, we came alive and showed our class. When the game might have slipped away in the second half, we forced our way back in. Like in the old days, we caught fire. Tommy Conroy was unmarkable, Mattie Ruane was outrageous – and outraged to be called ashore - and our record-breaking Aidan caused Dublin no end of trouble. Ryan, as always, was electric. Donnacha McHugh showed maturity beyond his years. It wasn’t perfect, but who wants to be perfect at this point?

We thrive in the Hyde, and after three days here, it has started to feel like home. We finally nailed the best lunch spot in Roscommon (Jacksons), the best spot in the ground (terrace, slightly to the graveyard end, halfway up), and most importantly, we haven’t lost there. We will be sorry to say goodbye for this year.

But the real championship starts now, and the buzz is back. Bring it on!