My first county final experience

Preparing for this weekend was a big deal for me. I was going to witness my first county finals, not only as a reporter, but personally too. I'm from Germany and soccer is absolutely king over there. It's got a mentality, right down to grassroots level that's absolutely alien to Gaelic football. In Germany, soccer players change colours like underpants and the sport generally lacks the community spirit that's so crucial to Gaelic football.

I have learnt a lot about this Irish treasure in the last couple of years and I've been to important inter-county matches, Mayo's historic win over Dublin in 2021 being one of them. But the buzz of a county final is a different animal.

I could sense it in the days leading up to the finals. Schools recorded videos of players visiting and little kids wishing them 'good luck.' Towns were decorated in their team's colours and stories from the past were being retold: 'Do you remember when...?'

In MacHale Park, the shop behind the stand was busy all weekend. I'm perfectly fine with the options available. I approve of no alcohol being served at matches, it's more family-friendly. Everything was done by volunteers, emphasised by the fact, when I arrived at the turnstiles for the intermediate final on Sunday, I met Cill Chomain manager Nigel Reape at the entrance, serving as ticket volunteer.

The previous day he had been on the sideline, coaching his team in the junior final. A fascinating example of how Gaelic football is run. Over the weekend I found club officers making tea, and in Nigel's case, a high profile manager simply helping out so the event ran smoothly. Just try to imagine Manchester City manager Pep Guardiola checking tickets at a Liverpool home match.

FAMILY FORTUNES

I notice the diversity in age and gender. I see old couples, families with kids and teenage 'ultras' behind the goal. Before throw-in on Sunday there was a small girl, completely wrapped up in a big jacket, with scarf, hat and gloves, holding a pack of Taytos in each hand, very slowly coming up the stairs, stubbornly on her own. The little girl had to struggle to complete the climb thanks to the precious cargo she was carrying. However, the sense of achievement when she reached the top was uplifting. Little did she realise, her mother was behind her every step of the way with hands outstretched should she stumble at any stage.

I sat next to a couple who had the radio commentary audibly on, which I initially found amusing, as we were in the stadium watching it live but when you think about it, how often do we wonder who just scored or who just got a yellow or red card? I couldn't fault them.

The turnout was great when you think of the respective population sizes of the participating communities. No one had exact figures on the attendances, on Saturday and Sunday and I found it hard to estimate, but I would say the term 'the whole town is here' wouldn't be too far from the truth.

Everyone mingled with everyone else. There was no separation of fans and no aggressive tribalism. People were super chill and a friendly word was always just a smile away.

ESCAPING THE RAIN

Before the match started, the anthem was sung and it was impressive to see the two teams, lined up on the pitch facing the flag. It reminded me of the role this sport has always played in the national psyche. It's unique and its character is reflected in the match day programme which includes the players' profession: accountant, electrician, scientist or carpenter. A reminder, that the heros of the day who invest so much time and energy into proudly representing their clubs, are mere mortals just like the rest of us. They do it for the parish. It signifies that they are of the community. And I love how people always have a story to tell about them: 'Oh I went to school with this guy,' 'he's my cousin' or 'when he was little, he was a lively young fella.'

To avoid the persistent rain and wind, the supporters gathered close to the roof of the main stand, shoulder to shoulder. MacHale Park in Castlebar is a great place to stage the club finals. The massive main stand, with the dressing room tunnel, and the huge lights, provide a fitting backdrop, worthy of the occasion, for players, supporters and neutrals alike. The players actually warm up on a side pitch which makes their entrance onto the pitch about fifteen minutes before throw-in more dramatic. 

Yet, I cannot help but wonder, whether these games should be played elsewhere. At a smaller venue, as I'm a strong believer, a packed small stadium results in a better experience than a mostly empty MacHale Park. The sheer proximity to the players would certainly heat up the atmosphere which is a bit muted in Mayo football's HQ.

On the other hand, I personally have reached an age, where I enjoy the comfort of a big roof over my head, sufficient toilet facilities and nice seats to sit in. I suppose, having all finals in MacHale Park by default seems the most democratic decision possible.

REPLAY MADNESS

To be fair to the crowd, especially in the intermediate final on Sunday, you could feel the tension and excitement, especially in the dying minutes when the game was on a knife edge and could have gone either way. It was electrifying.

But then, the harsh realisation after the final whistle was equally sobering from my point of view: Replay! So we've had colossal drama in an intermediate county-final, and then everyone packs up to meet again next week? Maybe it's the German soccer mind still nagging in my head, but to me it was mind-boggling. Why not have a decision on the day? At least give them extra-time to increase the chances to have a decision on the day?

I see it from everyone's perspective: The players, who have families and jobs, will have to go through all the tension again for a week. The supporters have to rock up again if they want to witness the triumphant lifting of the cup and all the volunteers have to show up again. I feel a sport that hinges so much on the sacrifice that people make, should not take their engagement for granted.