High Noon at Croke Park

Dubs fans come out in force to support their team

BY

MATT TREACY

I met a taxi driver last Sunday who was talking about some chap with an Irish surname who had a scored a goal for a soccer team from Lancashire. Had I seen it? No. Wouldn't cross the road. I was thinking of Brian Lohan and Davy Fitz; agony chiselled on their faces. And of John Gardiner and Seán Óg; happy but equally drained, and gracious. And of Paul Caffrey and Mickey Harte embracing, not for the cameras, but in mutual respect. Each will spend the next number of days plotting each other's downfall and heartbreak, but you may be certain that they won't be bickering in the press or having to excuse the loutish behaviour of their players.

I smiled at the taxi man. He might as well have asked me had I been listening to the Crazy Frog song after I'd been to see the International Blues Band.

The words 'classic' and 'epic' are too often abused. I don't think that can be said about the two big games in Croke Park last weekend. An honourable mention must also go to the hurlers of Westmeath and Down who served up a gripping encounter in the final of the Christy Ring Cup. Unfortunately, Westmeath's victory has been cast under a small cloud by the fact that the referee Dennis Richardson blew up before time in the first half. The Down manager John Crossey was insisting on Sunday that the County Board appeal for a replay, and they have written to the Central Disciplinary Council and to the Westmeath County Board making such a request.

Every year the hurling championship delivers more high-quality games than football, but even in the light of some titanic games already so far, the Cork versus Clare match will stand as possibly the best we have seen this year. Clare haven't hurled as well since they beat Tipperary in the final eight years ago. Brian Lohan looked like a man who had gone to bed on 13 August Saturday 2005 and woken up on Sunday 3 September 1995. It was a game Clare could have won but they lost nothing in defeat. Nothing and everything.

Cork again proved that they are a steely crew. Not for the first time in this championship they were given a true test, of skill certainly, but perhaps most of all of heart. It is not easy to win consecutive All Irelands in either hurling or football these days. Simply put, it is difficult to maintain the same level of commitment and purpose and even where those qualities seem to have been retained, there is the danger that a hungrier bunch are waiting in the long grass. So far, when their deepest reserves have been called upon they have answered. Only the Cats or Galway stand in their way now.

What more can be said of the Dublin versus Tyrone match? It was certainly hard to appreciate in the midst of it all and there were times when I could barely bring myself to watch. I can only imagine what it must be like being a player. The wonder is not that players drop the odd ball into the opposing goalkeepers hands, or that passes go astray or that balls are fumbled, but that in the epicentre of the inferno, chaps who have to get up on Monday morning and go to work, perform Herculean feats of skill and courage. And those of us who get to see them may count ourselves privileged.

While the main credit for the quality of the match must go to the two teams, referee Aidan Mangan also deserves a mention in dispatches. (Not sure if the Carrickmore jury would agree!). Tyrone will question the free that allowed Mossy Quinn to equalise and most of all the decision to move the ball to a position where it was unlikely he would miss after the third successive attempt by a Tyrone man to distract him. Or maybe Enda McGinley had said, "Best of luck now mucker". Mind you Tyrone would have a case for arguing that this was simply an attempt to redress the balance given the barrage of noise emanating from the Hill whenever a Tyrone free was taken. It is not sporting, nor is it exclusive to Dublin supporters. Maybe it's just that there's more of them.

Breathtaking

Minor quibbles aside, it was a breathtaking spectacle. At various times both sets of supporters were stunned into silence but the silence never lasted long. The match was played amid an elemental roar that echoed around the packed stadium. On the pitch both teams committed themselves with savage intensity but an intensity that never pushed either of them into some of the more cynical and nasty acts that have marred other games this year.

Shoulders were given and taken and Mangan's task was made all the easier by the emphasis on the ball rather than the man. There were many instances of superb tackling by both teams at speed, proving that the football tackle is not the myth it is claimed to be. A testament to the spirit in which it was played is the fact that only 27 frees were awarded in the course of the match and none were for anything that could be remotely considered dangerous.

As a consequence the action swung from end to end, interspersed at regular intervals by some brilliantly taken points. Brian Dooher's in the second half from out under the Hogan, and one of Sherlock's in the first are only two examples that immediately spring to mind. On top of that we had two goals; Dublin's a scrambled effort from Quinn after an incisive run by Bryan Cullen; the second an audacious and cleverly crafted effort from Eoin Mulligan.

Virtue

But the scores were only details on a much bigger canvas. It was brilliant stuff. To be honest if someone asked me if I would prefer another nail biting match of that calibre or a guaranteed Dublin victory in a mediocre game, I would opt for the latter. So would Tyrone. But Saturday proved that there is still virtue in trying to win honestly and with style. It was a classic. High Noon not The Wild Bunch.