Shadowing a Lion: Dan Sheehan's dad on nerves, thrills and big decisions as he follows his son around Australia
Much like players, parents trot out the cliches to themselves and others: you can only plan and commit funds to the game that is immediately in front of you; to have booked flights, or even to have a mental map of how you might get more time off work than your annual leave, is to tempt the fate of injury and the ensuing cruel and very expensive disappointment of cancelling non-refundable travel plans.
As you watch prices for travel and hotels rise you wonder when it might be safe to put the long considered what-if plans − that you were never comfortable having in the first place − into action. Have no doubt that there was a surge in parental bookings the day after the final league game for each of the players in the
Lions
squad.
A trip like this is more complicated than a regular holiday. You need to explain to your better half that yes, it is in fact true that you are both intentionally leaving a potentially warm and pleasant Irish summer to visit the southern hemisphere during their winter. It takes more than one intervention for the penny to drop that we will be gone for a month, it will be cold and wet, we will be moving every three days, there won't be much beach action, and the luggage allowance is 15kg.
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The baggage restrictions mean that there needs to be a selection meeting with the wardrobe. Akin to picking a playing squad there are always a few bankers who were always going to make the trip. Like the
Tadhg Furlong
-type shoe – may not have seen much action this year, could be a little heavier than one might want, but has a pedigree and history that can be relied upon. Other pieces have quite simply earned the right to travel, such as the
Hugo Keenan
of shirts, which covers more ground than others might think and is a proven last line of defence against unwanted breakouts.
Confirmation of Dan Sheehan's selection for the Lions tour to Australia meant unspoken plans could start to be put into action. Photograph:Every traveller is surprised at the amount of one-cap wonders that were even considered for inclusion in the wider squad of clobber. They have been living for too long now in the back of the wardrobe and will need to be released upon return to the northern hemisphere. That said, a rather fine hat can be considered this tour's bolter.
The travel to
Australia
is a bit of a dog. Not great, but its bark is worse than its bite. The only unplanned-for complication so far has been the impact on the body clock, which can be best described as a time bomb. Maybe it is the excitement and pride of joining a tour where you have some skin in the game that lulls you into feeling that you have beaten the jet lag. The device, however, has been hidden well inside and suddenly out of nowhere on day three it detonates. The catnapping kicks in and the beast needs to be confronted. Staring at the ceiling at 4am shows there is some work to be done yet.
Canberra is a planned city that appears to have been located by dropping a pin on a map. It looks and feels like it has been designed and built by AI. Everything is logical and straight-lined.
Canberra is also the homeplace of the Hansens. They met up before and after
the game against the Brumbies
to celebrate
Mack
representing the Lions. Mack's folks kindly invited some of the travelling Irish parents to join them for a prematch drink at the RUC club. Mack's jerseys, from his time playing with the Brumbies and with Ireland, are framed on the walls.
Someone remembered to pack a cuddly toy. Photograph: Dan Sheridan/Inpho
It was fantastic to see the pride and joy that Mack's achievements give to so many of his friends and family. It is a feeling that is shared across all the families who are lucky enough to have a player in this touring party. We met Mack's brother, uncles, aunts, cousins and friends. Star of the show is Grandmother Hansen, who at 94 is the boss of the lot. How nice for them to have it all come home to them rather than having to travel or watch it from afar.
Adelaide feels to be what Canberra can hope to become. It comes across as historical and storied. The people are warm and welcoming. While crossing the street looking for a restaurant we were engaged by a local gentleman. In the space of one minute and 100 metres he gave us a review and recommendation for all the best restaurants in Adelaide. We won't go hungry here.
The stadium in Adelaide is fantastic and achieves a beautiful balance between modernity and tradition. It is as close to the centre as the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff. Supporters flow in and throughout with ease. The stewards and staff are welcoming and helpful. Their Ask Me badges invite conversation and radiate warmth. The old cricket scoreboard dominates the backdrop. You can almost hear the crack of the ball on Don Bradman's bat.
Dan Sheehan with parents Barry and Sinead in South Africa last year. Photograph: Dan Sheridan/Inpho
Much like the playing squad, the team's shadows are slowly assembling. The shadows are an important part of any athlete's team. They are the last line of defence and the first line of support. They know what makes their star shine, or what causes it to slip out of its orbit from time to time.
They watch closely, observing lots and speaking little. They look for the small things and note changes that others do not see. Their gaze lingers a little longer than others might after any type of meaningful contact during a game. They observe and decipher signs of stress or concern. They largely live on their nerves and their savings – it's an expensive and rewarding indulgence being a shadow.
Some know each other well from years of hovering in the background. There have been lifelong journeys to get to this point. The path has not been straightforward. It is much closer to a rollercoaster than a motorway, all the way from underage rugby through to club and country and now this. What a treat for us all.
There was an unofficial orientation day of sorts for the shadows at
the Argentina game in Dublin
, just as this voyage began. Shadows glanced at other shadows. Introductions were made and some phone numbers exchanged. The overwhelming tone of first conversations among the shadows are of pride and pinch-me-to-ensure-this-is-all-real. Only the very odd shadow ever expected when bringing their little lad to mini rugby that we might end up chasing them as Lions around Australia.
Only a few shadows made the warm weather week in Perth. A few more appeared in Sydney, with another few additions in Canberra. Adelaide is serving as something of a rallying point for what will soon be a flotilla. We might need a bigger boat for what lies ahead ...
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Irish Examiner
4 hours ago
- Irish Examiner
Donegal and Kerry showcase football's Wild Atlantic Way
Eleven years ago, the same year both Donegal and Kerry previously contested an All-Ireland final, the Wild Atlantic Way route was launched. On a comparatively shoestring budget, Fáilte Ireland had to come up with an initiative to rebrand the splendour of the west coast in the hope of boosting a tourism industry still reeling from the economic crisis. Then chief executive Shaun Quinn went back to his homeplace in Raphoe in Donegal and conjured up the phrase. The wave-shaped acronym that became the logo followed and after that it was a case of agreeing on the route. Launched in April 2014, it was initially deemed gimmicky. The rusty stop signs were maligned as eyesores and the new road signs dismissed as the proverbial lick of paint. By the time Donegal and Kerry faced off that September, the sneering and cynicism was on the wane. Hotels in counties like Donegal were reporting bookings up by as much as 40%. Last year, it was revealed the Wild Atlantic Way has led to a 58% increase in revenue, which now totals €3 billion per annum. Not bad for giving a new name to something that was already there. Finn MacDonnell, owner of the famous Dick Mack's pub in Dingle, told this newspaper last year its creator should 'be given a trophy'. Aisling Arnold-Kelly, owner of Arnolds Hotel in Dunfanaghy reported the promotion was transformational for her business. 'We were opening on St Patrick's Day and closing after Halloween,' she told the Irish Times. 'As a result of the Wild Atlantic Way, we are now open six months full-time and five days a week in the off-season, from November to February…' A lot of what the Football Review Committee (FRC) started 10 years on from Fáilte Ireland's great marketing campaign can be likened to the Wild Atlantic Way. The product is still the product, football remains football as FRC chairman Jim Gavin had intended, but the packaging is a damn sight better. In almost every GAA field in the country, the FRC's lick of paint has amounted to two partly-elliptical arcs and a dotted halfway line. The skill of a long-range point has been flagged literally and figuratively. The quick free is quicker in the form of the solo-and-go. If the 2,500km route from Kinsale to Malin Head fuels nostalgia for ex-pats and second and third generation Irish about the old sod, the four back, three up restrictions is a nod to how the game used to be played. Like the paintings of Paul Henry and postcards of John Hinde that sold the idea of Ireland as a destination in the early half of the 20th century, there is romance to the rules. The allure of empty space as portrayed by those artists is what the FRC have advertised to footballers. Gavin may be a self-proclaimed fan of 'east coast football' but within the parameters he and his group have set, the west are this year's winners. The tropes about Donegal being too wedded to their running game because of their geography and their management's allegiance to it has been disproven by their progress under these new game conditions because they have excellent kickers. To a lesser extent, Kerry's presence in this final is notable when they seemed for a large part of the season to be slower than most to catch the hang of two-pointers, a point Jim McGuinness referenced after Donegal's All-Ireland semi-final. Both have moved with the times. The aggregate 27 points, the 2-21, the pair accumulated between themselves in the 2014 All-Ireland final could be matched or surpassed by half-time on Sunday. It's inflation but, unlike what those holidaying in Ireland are experiencing, it's the good kind. Just as the ruggedness of the west has been re-imagined, the GAA have realised that when you rebrand it, they will come. Novelty or not, attendances were up 21% for this year's group stages compared to last. Crowds for the 13 knock-out matches will exceed 430,000 and could be as much as 23% higher than 2024. That's not to say the fare from the preliminary quarter-finals has been great. It's been pretty underwhelming, in fact, after some electric group matches. The average winning margin has been 7.8 points compared to the group stages where the average gap was 5.6. Consequently, there is some pressure on Sunday's final to showcase all the good that the FRC has brought to the game before the permanency of the rules are voted on in early October, but finals are often fraught affairs and it's been six years since a stone-cold classic was delivered on this stage. But it doesn't need to be wonderful to establish that the tweaks have been a success. As those living in the Donegal and Kerry beauty spots on the Wild Atlantic Way can testify, a shower is never too far away.
The 42
10 hours ago
- The 42
An isolated, distinct land that carries the football tight to its heart: Failte go Tír Chonaill
THERE IS CHANCE, a good chance at that, that in around 20 years, perhaps when the management career of Michael Murphy is winding down, that the history of Donegal football could be told through the stories of three figures: Brian McEniff, Jim McGuinness and Michael Murphy. From the birth of McEniff, Donegal were only getting going. He lit the flame that the other two have carried. They have had almost no success of note without those three figures. Geography, politics, culture all play a role, but the county has always been fragmented. To achieve requires a lot to be straightened out. When it is, though, they can unite into an irresistible force . . . ***** Anyone looking to escape the build-up to Donegal being in an All-Ireland final, could have picked worse places to take a quick staycation last week than the Isle of Doagh, on Donegal's Inishown Peninsula. By our own counting, we tallied up more flags for the hurlers of Cork and Tipperary than in support of Donegal on the road from Ballyliffin to Carndonough. In a county that is a place all of itself, there are fragments even within that system that have their own peculiarities. The Inishown peninsula favours soccer. The view of Five Finger Strand. Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo In a Moville household during the week, I heard the children refer to soccer as 'football', and the native sport as 'Gaelic.' Naturally, they have requested six tickets for Sunday from their local club. The old tourism board slogan of 'Up here, it's different' contains multiple truths for Donegal. The very formation of the county system wasn't a natural geographic fit and three distinct Donegal cultures emerged. The east of the county unquestionably held more in common with the Protestant character of east Ulster. It was thriving and industrious, hiring many from the impoverished other parts of the county while Scottish settlers created a society with its own schools, newspapers, churches, marriage patterns and class structures. That left the south of the county and the extremely isolated north west. Utterly underdeveloped industrially, with areas such as The Rosses still lacking in proper road structures even up to a century ago. And in between the three regions was barren wasteland, high up and low down. Shouldered by the mountains on one side and hemmed in by the waves on the other, the locals created their own enterprises and entertainment. By the middle of the 1800s, north Donegal and particularly around the Inishowen Peninsula, with Urris as the epicentre, was a Poitín making industry, creating thousands of gallons that was exported to Belfast, Dublin and even Scotland. The lack of a permanent police presence in Inishown helped, but the locals were a shrewd bunch. They would station their distilleries in a sheugh between their land and a neighbours. In the event of discovery, they would successfully argue that it wasn't on their land, but on disputed territory. Incredibly, it worked. But the addictive nature of the alcohol was responsible for families being torn apart. Nobody wanted to incur the wrath of Judge Louis Joseph Walsh. In a previous life he was a contemporary of James Joyce and a playwright as well as a radical Republican who stood for election. But when he was appointed as the very first district court judge by Dáil, he took a dim view of Poitín and his policy was to jail the mother of the family caught transgressing. And any house would fall apart without the presence of the Irish mammy. Previously, in 1814 they brought in a system of townland fining. If the argument over disputed territory was used, a fine would be placed upon the entire townland. When the bills were inevitably unpaid, the army would move in and round up and impound the livestock of the area. This would cause huge poverty, cut off their means of paying tribute to landlords, and result in eventual eviction. All in, the existence of many was bleak. Diversion and sport was practically impossible. The Famine became a decades-long event in Donegal. The further failure of the potato crop in the late 1870s left those along the southern end of the county around Kilcar, Glencolumbkille and Killybegs barely able to make ends meet. Jonathan Bardon's 'A history of Ulster' held that, 'Living conditions in Gweedore were poor, with small homes built from turf; most had only a hole in the roof as a chimney and a low entrance acting as a doorway. Many had no windows and little space for habitation . . . Gweedore has a sad notoriety. Poverty and privation have been the portion of its peasantry.' During the Great Famine, occurrences of excess deaths in Donegal were significantly lower than other regions. Between 1846 and 1851 it was 10.7 per thousand, whereas a county such as Cavan, for example, had a 42.7 rate. A deserted famine house in Bloody Foreland, Gaoth Dobhair. Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo What saved the worst excesses of suffering in the county was the established pattern of seasonal migration and emigration. With one of the lowest rates of literacy among the lower classes, parents were less inclined to encourage children into education, but to prepare them for the hiring fairs in Strabane and Letterkenny held twice a year, that could take their children away to labour for periods of six-months solid. Quite often, the venue was Scotland for the potato harvest, or 'Tattie hoking' as it was known. Ordnance Survey reports are typically unsympathetic to the plight of the natives – see Brian Friel's masterpiece, 'Translations' and the Captain Lancey character for further evidence. But in a statistical report taken by a real-life Lieutenant W. Lancey in May 1834 he cruelly noted about the public's lack of recreation around Downings, 'They are, like the rest of the country, not addicted to public sports. They appear either to have lost or never possessed a taste for feats of activity or manly strength, and all their leisure time is taken up in moping over misfortunes, real or supposed.' Advertisement Historically, there are many examples of two different types of hurling in Donegal. The earliest reference can be found a few miles outside Carndonough in the ruins of a 17th century planter's church ruin at Clonca, where a craved slab features a sword and a stick alongside a ball. By the 1800s Camán, also widely known as 'commons', was played on a restricted field with the ball – a wooden object known as a 'nagg' propelled along the ground. The other type was a cross-country affair, focussing more on ball-carrying and played across entire townlands. Beaches were suitable venues for games that were recorded in Gortahork and Magheraroarty. In the south of the county, once the final harvest of the year was cut in August, it would produce a frenzy of activity on the level fields. After the establishment of the GAA in 1884, Donegal started slow. Several clubs were formed in the east of the county, Letterkenny the furthest inland. With no county board to organise and sanction games, they depended on the Derry county board for sporadic games. Donegal clubs also were somewhat commitment-phobic, with an example of the Green Volunteers not fielding against The Joys, but later playing a soccer match against Derry club, Ivy. The historic connection to Scotland, along with the origins of Glasgow Celtic, goes a long way to explain the deep roots that soccer has in the county. When it came to Gaelic Games, the seeds fell on fallow ground for decades. That's not to say that sport had no presence in the county. The Protestant influence in east Donegal brought activity in hockey, cricket and rugby. Regattas would be contested by teams of fishermen on the Foyle and Lough Swilly. After the Irish Republican Brotherhood seized control of the GAA at a convention in Thurles Courthouse in 1887, the clergy in Derry began encouraging the working classes to play association football instead. The locals obeyed. The early hankering for hurling helped Donegal who, it might surprise to hear, have three Ulster senior hurling championship titles from 1906, 1923 and 1932. They reached the second final in 1904 to be beaten by Antrim. The same outcome occurred in 1905 though it is left unclear if that game was actually played, the title nonetheless going to Antrim. The 1906 championship reached its finale on 14 July, 1907, when Donegal beat Antrim on a recorded scoreline of 5-21 to 0-1 in Burt, a place that has deep hurling roots. Essentially though, Donegal took their own sweet time. The Prairie Fire that torched across the country in the spread of Gaelic Games was snuffed out on the bogs of Donegal. There were many factors. The lack of rail transport. The lack of anything approaching modern roads. The distances involved in organising GAA activities at board level, when the majority of meetings were held in Limerick Junction in Tipperary. It wasn't a particularly nationalist county, either. The level of Donegal involvement in the 1916 Easter Rising was minimal, if any. The Irish Republican Brotherhood tried to organise in the county and Ernest Blythe spent some time trying to rise numbers for the Irish Volunteers, but could only recruit 20 men. When the GAA's Central Council called for mass participation in Gaelic Games on 4 August 1918 in what would become known as 'Gaelic Sunday', almost 100,000 taking part in an act of civil disobedience with the RIC seeking permits for games, there was no record of activity in Donegal. Almost a year later, Ulster GAA held its convention in Derry on 16 March. Secretary Eoin O'Duffy was a huge figure in the War of Independence who led several lives. He would later become the first Garda Commissioner before raising an army to go and fight in the Spanish Civil War on the fascist side of General Franco. But Donegal have him to thank for their GAA culture as he personally formed a new county board, their first meeting being held in Strabane, Co Tyrone on 3 April 1919. This time, it stuck. The board would meet regularly. Six different regions were set up in a smart move to keep travel to a minimum. Clubs sprung up everywhere. In 1921, both Ardara and Glenties were formed in a spirit of nationalist fervour. That decade was one of consumerist growth. It all helped. In 1923 there were 9,246 motorcars registered in the county. By 1930, that figure had grown to 32,632. The county footballers first made an appearance in the Ulster championship of 1905/06 where they were beaten 0-20 to 0-1 by Derry. A year later and the score was 0-18 to 0-2. They checked out then until 1919 and became a fixture from then on. The country changed. Donegal may have been lagging behind but they were still moving forward. A dance in Donegal town in September 1921 was reported on as, 'Irish dances were in the ascendant. No jazzing or one stepping. Any attempt to introduce these ugly, disgusting things would have been immediately frustrated and criticised'. A year later, the people of Gaoth Dobhair went for it with full jazzing and one-stepping to beat the band and were rounded on by the local press. The establishment of the Department of the Gaeltacht went about revitalising those communities on the western seaboard, just as tourism was taking off and Bundoran was becoming an Irish Blackpool. Donegal was arriving. ***** Almost everything they achieved in Gaelic football had the imprint of two men: Brian McEniff and Jim McGuinness. For their first Ulster title in 1972, McEniff was a player who won an All-Star. He was also the team manager, at the age of 30. Two year later he repeated the trick and while the reigning Ulster winning manager, was ousted by a county board that were familiar with the whetstone. In all, he managed Donegal five times. He won five Ulster titles and an All-Ireland in 1992, when he carried a teenage McGuinness on the panel, nicknamed 'Cher' by the squad on account of his long curly black hair. Brian McEniff with the Sam Maguire, 1992. Billy Stickland / INPHO Billy Stickland / INPHO / INPHO McEniff's final stint as manager brought them to an All-Ireland semi-final loss to Armagh. But it was also achieved while he was the serving county board chairman. McGuinness has now also accumulated five Ulster titles: 2011, 2012, 2014, 2024 and this year to go along with the All-Ireland in 2012, while Declan Bonner managed Donegal to Ulster success in 2018 and 2019. Throughout the decades in the method of playing football, Donegal had a certain way of doing things. They were early adopters of the fist-pass and carried the ball tight to their chests. Even today, that's the Donegal house style. Work the ball through the hands. Your feet are for shooting. They don't apologise for that. In the past, McGuinness has linked the 2012 All-Ireland with the 1992 All-Ireland in terms of style. 'That identity, what goes on in club football with the wind coming in off the Atlantic, it happens every day of the week,' he said in an interview over the past year. 'That style got us over the line in '92 and it happened in '12 again.' The Donegal bench, with a teenage Jim McGuinness standing, await the final whistle of the 1992 All-Ireland final. Billy Stickland / INPHO Billy Stickland / INPHO / INPHO Now, you can point out that it all sounds a little fanciful given that other western seaboard counties such as Galway and Kerry have known a gust of wind in their time and haven't been afraid to give the ball an odd kick. But that was bred into him. Even when McGuinness was a teenage sub on the first Donegal team to win the All-Ireland in 1992, their full-back Matt Gallagher went the entire game in the final against Dublin without kicking the football once, instead laying it off with a handpass every time. Doing it their own way is the county character. Take the music for example. The Donegal style of Irish traditional music is very connected to the Scottish Highlands. Almost exclusively played by fiddle. The cradle of this music originates from the areas around Gaoth Dobhair, while Johnny Doherty of Ardara was the most famous and renowned exponent of popularising it. It is played with single bowing, making it choppy, staccato and raw. Not to say that it is unsophisticated, but there are those that can look down their noses at it. Put it this way: Donegal traditional music is the most distinct from the others. For reasons, primarily geographic and cultural isolation, it has absorbed precious few other influences. It won't surprise you to learn that their Sean-nós singing is fairly unique also. Again, they do things their own way. And there's a particular strength that comes with that. When Jim McGuinness made his complaints around having to play Mayo in Dr Hyde Park this year, he'd have known this was no huge injustice. Especially with Kerry having to play Meath in Tullamore the day before. Instead, he was channelling his former manager, Brian McEniff. During the 2003 championship, McEniff made an enormous noise about having to play an All-Ireland quarter-final replay against Galway, in Castlebar. 'A pilgrimage to Castlebar,' he called it when the venue was announced. Given that the opposition was Galway, some of the Donegal players sniggered at their quirky manager. But McGuinness – who appeared as an injury-time sub for Christy Toye that day – would have noted the support that Donegal garnered through McEniff's proclamation. 'It would only happen because it's us,' said McGuinness of having to go to Roscommon. If 2012 owed something to 1992, then the lessons taught by McEniff go deep. ***** In a way, it's absolutely amazing. At The Famine Village in Doagh, the proprietor Patrick Doherty talked of living in his family home with the thatched roof and the low entry. Related Reads 'One of my early years, I had the match played in my head a thousand times beforehand' David Clifford 'could be the best player that has ever played the game' - McGuinness 'It's challenging but it's adding to the entertainment' - Goalkeeper view on new rules There were a few 'back in the day' yarns, one which centred around how mothers treated teething weans to the long stems of seaweed, coiled up. The child would bite on the tough stem and the taste of sea salt would please them enough to stop the crying. Doagh Famine Village. Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo What changed everything, he said, was the entry into the European Economic Community in 1973, and the acceleration of events in 1984. The Man From The Council would then come round to your thatched house and order it to be tumbled and replaced with a fresh house. The clothing company, Fruit of the Loom, came to Buncrana in 1987 and employed thousands. Ireland was modernising. Donegal's modernisation was gaining pace, building on the existing and improving tourism industry. Think about it. For a couple hundred years, they were few areas in Europe quite as remote as Donegal. People ate the seaweed and cockles off the beaches and what they could catch on a rod. Now, the world comes to them. To taste their now legally-distilled Poitín. To chew on the local seaweed and marvel at the few thatch cottages left. They sit in recreations of Irish wakes and lap up the folklore before grabbing coffee and traybakes, making plans to hear a little of that old time music later on in the evening. Americans, English, Europeans, Irish, they all come in their droves to rent out houses and take trips on the coach tours, marvelling at some of the most unspoiled views of western Europe; or at least those that have not entirely succumbed to Bungalow Blight. They have it made. In other ways, they don't. There are fishing vessels moored in the deepwater port of Killybegs that are valued around €25 million. In the past, they would have fished the waters nine months of the year with people employed the length of Bundoran to Falcarragh within the industry. Now, the boats can leave the harbour in late October but they have to be finished by the start of March. Other crews from Spain, The Netherlands and Portugal can dock in Killybegs and travel 15 miles outside the bay to fish their bigger quotas. That's got to rub a few noses in it. Even something as emphatically Donegal as a day on the bog is gone. People still 'win' the turf, but it's a clandestine affair and selling turf for burning has been banned since 2022. Given the misery of the mid-1800s outlined earlier, you'd be forgiven for believing that Donegal had never achieved prominence. Within the Donegal GAA crest is a right hand gripping a red cross, the coat of arms of the O'Donnell Clan. They ruled Tír Chonaill for centuries as old royalty of the Gaelic nobility system. Frequently warring with other clans, most notably the O'Neill's, their most famous member was Red Hugh O'Donnell who was instrumental in many battles during the Nine Years War. Eventually though, after red Hugh's death in 1602, Rory O'Donnell engineered the Flight of the Earls on 14 September 1607, taking the prominent members and supporters of the families in a ship holding a reported number of 99. An art installation commemorates the Flight of the Earls, Ramelton. Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo Leaving for Spain in a French boat hired in Nantes six months previously, determined to seek Catholic support, particularly from Spain to challenge English rule in Ireland. It never happened for them. As they left Ireland behind them, nervously looking at the shores of Lough Swilly, paranoid that the English were aware of their plan, they left behind a leadership void. One that was filled by the Plantation of Ulster by English and Scottish settlers. The descendants of the O'Donnells and O'Neills would go on to die young on foreign battlefields or rise to nobility and loyalty in Europe. Prior to their departure, they had elevated Donegal to international renown. The contrast in centuries was hammered home in one letter to The Irish Times some years ago, when a daughter recalled telling her father that his native parish in Donegal was hanging on a wall in the Doges Palace, Venice, in the 17th Century. He replied: 'Imagine, the Venetians knew about us in the 1700s and Dublin only discovered us in the 1960s!' They know all about them now. ***** Check out the latest episode of The42′s GAA Weekly podcast here
Irish Times
14 hours ago
- Irish Times
Kerry and Donegal. Two households, both alike in dignity. And in scenery. And, for sure, in roguery
From Tuosist and Teelin, they'll come to Croke Park. From Gallarus and Gaoth Dobhair, from Ardfert and Ardara. Hog's Head and Horn Head and all the many mad, wild heads in between. An All-Ireland final between Kerry and Donegal , the island's two most far-flung outposts. People and places forgotten by Official Ireland, gathering in kinship to be at play. Alright, alright. Easy on the uilleann pipes there, Carmel. For a slightly less misty-eyed take, let's turn to the internet – and the Tripadvisor account of one @Abcvance out of Grimes, Ohio. The dateline is October 2019 and our Ohioan friend has a question. @Abcvance: 'Looking at coming to Ireland in Aug/Sept. Doing Dublin, Galway and then deciding between Donegal or Kerry for the other area. Which do you recommend & why?' Oh boy. Here we go. READ MORE @bredamv: 'My choice would always be Kerry, with its spectacular scenery, the highest range of mountains ... Wonderful beaches, beautiful lakes, islands to visit ... I know there are some who may disagree, but in my two visits to Donegal I have been underwhelmed by it.' @Claudes: 'Both Kerry and Donegal are beautiful (bredamv, where did you go in Donegal that you didn't notice the spectacular beauty of this county?)' @nakagoli: 'Donegal is, imo, more beautifully rugged than Kerry. And it has the advantage of being a bit quieter as many visitors seem to think that Kerry is a MUST. It isn't!' @bredamv: 'I certainly did not see more rugged beauty in Donegal, neither did my fellow travellers. I guess from looking at the McGillicuddy Reeks every day, I kind of expected similar beauty in Donegal but I now know that Kerry has a large number of the highest mountains in Ireland including the highest Carrantoohill [sic] at 1,038 metres, while Donegal's highest, Mount Errigal at over 700 metres is way down the list.' @Claudes: 'Kerry having the highest mountains in Ireland surely has nothing to do with this issue and I don't know why you keep mentioning this fact.' Kerry and Donegal Fans on Hilll 16 during 2014 All-Ireland final. Photograph: Alan Betson/The Irish Times Sadly, it's there that we must leave our Tripadversaries to their squabble. History does not record whether @Abcvance ever made it to our green and gold shores but you'd imagine he or she trod mighty lightly once here. Maybe they decided not to journey on from Galway at all, for fear of causing offence. Donegal and Kerry. Two households, both alike in dignity. And in scenery. And, for sure, in roguery. Darragh Ó Sé tells a story of Eamonn McGee coming down for the Comórtas Peile na Gaeltachta one year in the early 2000s with €20 in his pocket, drinking for three days in between bouts of football and going back to Donegal with a fiver. Fair to say the future Donegal All-Ireland winner was neither unique nor unwelcome in his endeavours. Ahead of the 2014 final, I was in Darragh's company when his phone rang. 'This is a Donegal fella now,' he said. 'He'll be looking for tickets.' He picked it up and got onto the front foot immediately: 'John! How are you? Come here, before I forget, I'm short two tickets for Sunday, have you heard of any going?' 'Ah shite Darragh, I was coming to you for the same. I'll see what I can do ...' Kerry and Donegal. Counties where the rhythms of life wouldn't have much trouble jamming with each other. Almost exactly the same size, broadly similar in population. Scoured by emigration, down all the generations. Hereditarily certain of one thing above all – that the bastards in Dublin couldn't care less and should never be depended on. A horse and jaunting car at the Gap of Dunloe in Co Kerry. Photograph:The sea, the islands, the fishing. The Gaelgóirí communities dotted through hills and coves. Hundreds of rally cars gunning away in Killarney and Letterkenny every summer. Thousands of spectators craning to get a whiff. Donegal golf, which is Kerry golf but cheaper (albeit not as much cheaper as it used to be). The tourist season, in which the rest of us get to go and live in one Narnia or other for a week. The end of the tourist season, with the dreaded promise of the long winter to come. Yet when it comes to football, they couldn't be more different. They each have their own DNA, proud and staunch. In Kerry, you move the ball by kicking it. In Donegal, you ferry it around through the hands. Neither county is as dogmatic as they'd like to let on about these truths but they hold them to be fairly self-evident all the same. And so they come to Croke Park for the All-Ireland final, trailing their people behind them. For two such football-dotty counties, their paths have remained blissfully uncrossed for the vast majority of championship history. This is only the fourth time they've met – somehow, Kerry managed to play every other Ulster county before they first happened across Donegal. All three games so far have been in Croke Park and the score is tied – one win, one draw, one defeat all round. They come together at a time when the sport itself is entirely up for grabs. Exactly whose DNA is best suited to these new rules ? Instinct would have said Kerry, naturally. All you needed was to see a couple of those flowing moves, a few of those dinked balls to the linkman, all that space around David Clifford. It was as if the FRC went through months of meetings and reports and sandbox games to come up with ... Kerry football. But the longer the summer has gone on the more the certainties of the past decade and a half have taken hold. The best teams still make possession ten-tenths of the law. There is more risk in the game now but a ball kicked away is still a cardinal sin. Every team's starting principle is creating a defensive shape designed to turn the ball over and go on the attack. Which sounds a lot like ... Donegal football. Fanad Head, the northernmost lighthouse in Ireland, in Co Donegal. Photograph: Bruno Morandi/Gerry Images Whither or which, the sport is back in the affections of the floating public again. Whatever else the new rules did, they did that. At a Holy Communion party back in May, a couple of us snuck in out of the sun to catch the second half of Dublin v Galway in the round robin. We thought we were outlaws, making good our escape from the bouncy castle Alcatraz out the back. By the time Tom Lahiff kicked the winner for Dublin, the livingroom was sardined. In truth, the knockout stages have been a bit of a washout. Down v Galway was a cracker, Meath v Galway was a stinker, albeit an entertaining one in the end. Kerry's shock-and-awe routine against Armagh was the new game in excelsis, Donegal's turnaround against Monaghan on six days' rest was a ferocious statement of intent. Everything else has been a bit light on fireworks. Maybe we should be careful what we wish for. Though the final isn't a referendum on the new rules, the FRC looms over it all the same. The championship has been largely free of refereeing controversies but the stakes are never higher nor emotions on more of a hair-trigger than in an All-Ireland final. Nobody wants Sam Maguire to be decided by a three-up breach. It seems relatively safe to assume that Donegal and Kerry will deliver though. They look to have timed their runs to the minute. They both would have picked the other out as the danger heading out onto the second circuit and now they're jumping the last together. It comes down now to who gets up the hill. Donegal and Kerry players parade before the 2014 All-Ireland final. Photograph: Morgan Treacy/Inpho Writing in these pages before he went off to get a proper job, Keith Duggan presaged the 2014 final with a line about the relative histories of Kerry and Donegal . 'It brings together a football tradition based upon absolute certainty and a football tradition based upon absolute hope,' he said. And he was right, as usual. But it's a different story now. Donegal don't travel to Croke Park in hope these days. They are fuelled by absolute certainty. They bring it in busloads, from Downings and Moville and Killybegs and everywhere else. The same as Kerry have always brought it, from Lispole and Waterville and Kenmare and beyond. Tradition evolves, dances through itself, tumbles through the times. Kerry and Donegal own the city this weekend. Are you watching, Ohio?
