
A FACE IN THE CROWD Mayo’s James Nallen prepares to sit on the bench after being substituted after eleven minutes of the All-Ireland Final.
Hope springs eternal
OVERVIEW
Denise Horan
Croke Park
THERE’S a lot to be said for heroic failure. Heart-breaking though the
losses of ‘89 and ‘96 were, Mayo walked away with pride intact. The
fans faced into the long journey home with tears in their eyes, but
hope in their hearts. This hadn’t been Mayo’s day, we felt, but there
was a sense that it wasn’t far off. Our day would surely come. Progress
had been made.
Since then – in the three final defeats to Kerry – there has been
little left to be proud of at the end. And that was the cruelest part
of Sunday afternoon – that Mayo were stripped of their pride. After the
heroics of the semi-final, the maturity with which they had approached
the final, the togetherness they had displayed all year, the hope they
had brought, they deserved - at least - to walk away with their heads
held high. After a 13-point battering on Gaelic football’s most public
stage, that is simply not possible.
But, if we, as Mayo people and fans, are feeling pain like we’ve never
felt before, imagine how it feels to be David Heaney, the man who led
so superbly all year, the man
who rallied his players when hope seemed lost against Dublin, the man
who put his body on the line to deny scores so many times this year
that he was in danger of losing some vital parts of it. The man who was
70 minutes away from immortality, as the first Mayo captain in 55 years
to lift the Sam Maguire.
Or put yourself in James Nallen’s shoes. Arguably the best centre-half
back in the country over the last decade, he was inspiring us when many
of his colleagues on Sunday were still playing Under-12 blitzes. He has
lost four All-Ireland finals, and in the latest one suffered the
ignominy of probably ending his career by being withdrawn after just
eleven minutes of play. Whatever is owed to us as fans, James Nallen
deserves more than what Sunday brought him. All the heartbreak he has
endured has been endured because he cared so much, because he
considered heartbreak worth it for the sake of winning an All-Ireland
medal. And now he never will.
And what of Ciaran McDonald? Loved and criticised in equal measure,
he’s always an easy target, and the detractors were out in force after
this latest final debacle. He had a woeful second half, but honestly,
did anyone throw more of themselves into the Mayo cause on Sunday? His
game was riddled with errors, granted, but he never stopped trying. The
anguish was plain to be seen on his face every time he misplaced a pass
or landed a shot the wrong side of the uprights (compounded by the
Kerry cheers that greeted his every slip), but he bounced back every
time and sought to make amends. If there is a more honest player in the
country, let him step forward and take a bow.
And that’s only three of 30 men who sacrificed so much to get to
Sunday’s throw-in, only to be met with despair at the end of it all.
Spare many thoughts for those players in the weeks to come and be kind
in how you judge them, because history won’t be. That is for sure.
LITTLE can be said about the game itself. Analysis is almost wasted;
how do you analyse a demolition? And if you can manage it, what purpose
does it serve? Kerry were brilliant, Mayo disastrous. There’s little
more to be said. Our nature makes us seek answers, but sometimes there
just aren’t any. Few were being offered around Croke Park on Sunday
afternoon, so why feign enlightenment now, using the distorted wisdom
of hindsight?
We came into the final full of hope and rightly so. Coming back from
seven points down against a vaunted Dublin side, we showed character
the like of which we scarcely we knew we possessed. Yes, Dublin were
over-rated, but still Mayo secured a victory against all odds. It
seemed to bode well. So too did the fact that the players were guarded
in their public comments, were focused to the point that nothing else
seemed capable of penetrating their world.
Our faith wasn’t misplaced. We weren’t naïve to be hopeful of victory.
But we met with a better team on the day, a team that had a point to
prove after last year’s final defeat. Kerry are a force to be reckoned
with any day of the week, on any football field. Kerry with the bit
between their teeth and with questions marks hanging over their
pedigree are an unstoppable force. Did 2004 not teach us that?
IT’S back to the drawing board now for Mayo. The post-mortems will
shorten the winter and account for a large portion of the spring, but
what conclusions will be drawn? As is the case in the aftermath of
every final defeat, there will be calls for a change in management. But
will they be justified and will they be heeded? A massive clear-out of
players will probably be recommended by some, a change in training
methods by others. There will be as many solutions presented as there
were flaws on Sunday last.
Who knows what course will be taken at the end of the period of
mourning, and who can tell now what the right course is? Save for the
man above, no one, and none should try - not in the days to come. The
only thing that can be said for certain is that now is not the time for
hasty decisions. Now is the time for reflection and stock-taking, for
licking of wounds, rebuilding of self-esteem and being gentle with
battered bodies and bruised egos. It’s a time for unity and
togetherness, a time to truly live out the ‘family’ mantra that Mickey
Moran preached so consistently this year. Who leaves their family in
the time of greatest need? Who kicks a family member when they’re down?
We may be losers, but let us never be traitors or deserters.
WHEN you’ve failed heroically, there’s a future. There’s a defiance and
a determination to bounce back. There’s resolve and there’s resilience.
With annihilation, perspective is harder to find amid the debris and
the tattered dreams.
But you have to keep hoping because when hope goes, all is lost. All is not lost.