COLUMN: Ardagh all set for big day in the sun

On a sun-soaked Sunday morning, at training back in September 1998, I lined up the shot. Nephin was in the background, the smell of peat was in the air, and I, along with my best friends, was looking forward to our fourth game for the newly formed Ardagh Ladies team later that week. The training was, shall we say, more social than serious, but life was good. I was only about 20 metres from the post, but I pulled the trigger, and it sailed over. Feeling satisfied (the ball ending up where it was meant to was a rare occurrence for me), I turned to return to the end of the line, and my knee crumpled beneath me.

Such was the agony that everything went black for a few seconds, and when I came to, in a heap on the ground, I opened my eyes to the concerned silhouettes of several teammates peering down at me. The kneecap wasn’t quite where it should have been, and I ended up on crutches for a few weeks, but incredibly, the damage wasn’t all that serious, even though – mostly through my own negligence - the injury has lingered, meaning I can now predict cold snaps from a few days out. At the time, I’d just procured my first boyfriend, and in an unfortunate incident the day before, he in turn had managed to procure a black eye. We made a handsome couple for those first few weeks.

That morning signalled the beginning of the end of my footballing career, and being honest, it was probably the best thing for all involved. My impressive lack of both co-ordination and basic footballing skills meant that I was no great asset to the Ardagh Ladies, and I was secretly relieved not to have to put my lack of talent on display every week. But it was still an immense source of pride to have worn the jersey of my home parish (borrowed from the underage lads, of course) even if, a couple of underage camogie games aside, it was just for a few short weeks.

That morning, it was one Brendan Murphy who, with typical care, loaded my bike into the boot of his car and drove me and my balloon-sized knee home. This Sunday, Brendan - a club stalwart - will be on the sideline as a selector, alongside Declan Kelly, Joe Snee and Conor Carney, as manager Sean Carey attempts to lead Ardagh to their very first county final victory.

ALWAYS HOME

From the outset, I need to say that this is not a journey with which I have been involved, apart from turning up at games. I left Ardagh in 1999, and though it will always be “home” to me, I haven’t lived there since, nor have I ever had any involvement with the running of the club. I have not put in any time in a hi-vis, in a kitchen or with a shovel. I don’t know too many of the families that make up the club anymore, nor many of the players that have represented the parish so wonderfully this season. I have merely watched from afar or from the sidelines, with no small amount of admiration for the incredible work that has been done in the club over the last decade or so. So this column is no attempt to claim any skin in the game, nor launch myself onto any bandwagon.

But home is home. And there is something about this weekend that feels monumental for the parish, and for many of the people among whom I grew up. Indeed, history has already been made, as this is Ardagh’s very first county final appearance. Back in 1997, on another gloriously sunny day, I recall heading to Knockmore full of hope, to watch them make a groundbreaking appearance the North Mayo Junior Final. That day is better best forgotten, but suffice to say, it ended in bitter disappointment, as Aiden Heffernan’s Crossmolina, rich with future All-Ireland winners, took the win.

Ardagh has not had many days in the sun since the club, in its most recent iteration, was formed in 1978. Being positioned between the three North Mayo giants of Ballina, Crossmolina and Knockmore has not helped its cause, and in Edwin McGreal’s marvellous book, ‘Our Finest Hour’ there was no great victory on the field to immortalise in print. Instead, the Ardagh chapter focuses on the ambition of the club, which, by President Tony Mulderrig’s admission, “should have folded, and came close on several occasions”, and its quest to develop a second pitch.

​GOLDEN AGE

This quest was realised through a remarkable Meitheal approach, meaning that the new, larger pitch – built, as was the original, on a literal bog, cost a fraction of what it might have. The ambition didn’t stop there, and the club has fundraised extensively and imaginatively for a gym, community walkway, and ongoing enhancements to the grounds which mean that it is now – bias aside – one of the most pleasant grounds in the county in which to watch a game.

​VOLUNTEERISM

The parish is tiny. The pipeline is a challenge. But the club has worked incredibly hard at underage to deliver to the parish this golden age, and the dream of bringing the Pete McDonnell cup back to Cloonkee. There are young generational talents in this side, but there is also the fruit of many hours of unseen hard labour on cold winter nights. The nights on which dreams are born and nurtured.

We are on the countdown now. Flags are appearing everywhere. Eastern Gaels may have something to say about Ardagh’s hopes and dreams, but in this year of magic in the county, Sunday may just be the day that this tiny North Mayo club makes history. And I would love nothing more for the people of my home parish, and for the people that have poured lifetimes, and their whole hearts into this club. For them, too, to be able to stick their chests out, and be proud to be from Ardagh