Living the Mayo dream from Perth on All-Ireland Final day

LIVING so far away from home can be difficult.

From missing big events like milestone birthdays and university graduations to the everyday moments that matter like going for a dreaded dip in the Atlantic with my dad or picking a paint colour for the new kitchen with mum, to driving to the shop with my sister to get a few cans of coke after a night out in Castlebar.

There are so many small beautiful moments that I end up missing out on that make me wonder if the white beaches of Western Australia or the rugged mountains of British Columbia are worth it.

And up there with all these precious moments, one that stings a hell of a lot, is Mayo reaching the All-Ireland final and not being at home for it.

Growing up, I was immersed in football. From hearing stories from my grandad about playing for Ballycroy in his bare feet to listening to tales of the years when he and Dad lined out together, football was woven into our family long before I ever pulled on a jersey myself.

I started playing from a young age with Castlebar Mitchels, then for my primary school, St Angela’s, before going on a great football adventure with Davitt College.

Dad was our coach and he was, and still is a sports writer. If I wasn’t playing in my own match, I was on the sideline watching one Dad was covering. There was no escaping it.

MAYO HEART

I have been going to Mayo games for as long as I can remember. Some of my happiest childhood memories were made on those trips to Croke Park.

The excitement would start long before arriving in Dublin, piling into the Mitsubishi Spacestar with sandwiches and Tayto galore, stopping at Feerick’s on the way for the breakfast and seeing who else had made the trip.

Then came the moment we reached Drumcondra and saw the crowds gathered outside Quinn’s. That was where I would meet my aunt, uncle and grandad before we all made the walk to Croke Park together.

Those days were so special. Walking down Clonliffe Road and getting the first glimpse of Croke Park is still one of the best feelings in the world

SEA OF GREEN AND RED

As I got older, the routine changed, but the excitement never did. The family car was replaced by the train, and the sandwiches wrapped in tinfoil were replaced by a chicken roll on the walk from Heuston with my friends.

We would make our way through Dublin towards Croke Park, joining the sea of green and red making its way through the city.

There was something special about that walk, seeing Mayo jerseys everywhere, hearing people talking about the game, and feeling that familiar belief that maybe, just maybe, this could finally be our year.

By 2021, I had moved to Dublin with my partner James, so getting to the games was easier than ever before. The build-up was different. Family arrived at the apartment on the morning of the game, we made a fry before heading out and then went for a pint before the game.

But one thing remained the same, we would still make that walk through the streets of Dublin, streets that had turned green and red for those few hours.

And we still felt that same feeling we had felt all those years before that maybe this was finally going to be our year. Mayo played Dublin in the semi-final that year and I'm sure I don’t have to remind anyone how that went.

After years of heartbreak at their hands, beating the Dubs in that moment felt like we had won the All-Ireland itself. The relief, the excitement, the feeling that maybe this was finally happening was something I’ll never forget. For that one evening, it felt like we had already won it all.

A few weeks later, we were back in Croke Park for the final against Tyrone. Before the game, my sister and I were outside a pub, taking in the atmosphere and the excitement that seemed to be everywhere around us.

Then someone let off a flare and the streets were filled with smoke, Mayo jerseys, and the green and red of our county.

Although the result went Tyrone’s way that day, those are the moments that stay with me.

THINKING OF HOME

But this time it's a lot different. Instead of being in Dublin with our family and friends, adding another day to the memory box, we will be watching the game on a TV from Western Australia.

There will be no buzz around Perth about Mayo being in the final, no stress trying to get tickets, no organising lifts, no trip to the shop the night before to get everything ready to make sandwiches for the journey and no trawling through what feels like thousands of people trying to find familiar faces before walking into Croke Park.

Instead, it will just be me and James, sitting in our house in Perth, watching the game together at 11.30pm. The small moments have changed.

Now, it’s calling my dad to ask if there is much excitement around Castlebar, wondering if my cousins will be making the trip to Dublin, and scrolling through social media to see what everyone is saying about Mayo and Kerry.

These days are so precious at home. The build-up, the excitement around the county, the kids outside practicing to be the next Kobe.

These are the things we should never take for granted. They are what make days like this so special.

The vast majority of Mayo supporters have never experienced what it feels like to win an All-Ireland. After all the heartbreak, the near misses, and the years of waiting, I really hope that on Sunday, we finally get to experience that feeling.

And although I won’t be walking through Dublin with my family and friends this time, I’ll still be there in every other way, wearing the jersey and thinking of home.