Casinos and chicken ranches were filling the Clones air on Saturday evening while an emotional Michael Murphy hugged his Da like he’d never won silverware before. “This is a man who has captained his county to an All-Ireland,” Joanne Cantwell reminded us, Murphy’s reaction to Donegal’s triumph somewhat countering the notion that winning provincial titles means nothing any more.
Mind you, if Armagh do what they did last year – fail to get their hands on the Anglo Celt Cup, having to settle for the Sam Maguire instead – they probably won’t fret too much about their 2025 championship season, but they looked sufficiently gutted come full-time to suggest they were, indeed, rather eager to win this Ulster final.
Nobody, though, loves an Ulster final more than BBC Northern Ireland commentator Thomas Niblock. “Is there a greater day in the calendar than this,” he wondered as the teams took to the field, dismissing anything that might ever happen on any other of the 364 days.
And as the second half got under way: “Is there anywhere you would rather be right now than in Clones?” Some might well have replied, ‘eh, the Maldives maybe?’, but Thomas would have had none of it. Besides, the Monaghan weather was Maldives-esque, those in the crowd without sunscreen turning the colour of Armagh’s shirts as the game progressed.
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A damn mighty game it was too, a marginally bonkers thriller at times, every time it appeared to be settled it sprang in to life again. “My God almighty,” Thomas hollered when Donegal gave up possession at the death in normal time, Armagh going up the field to equalise and send the game in to extra-time.
“Players are collapsing left, right and centre, supporters are collapsing in the stand, the game is going down to the chokey neck of championship seconds,” said Thomas, who sounded like a man who was about to collapse himself.
Extra-time, then. “I think there might be another wee gear in Donegal,” Conor McManus told Sarah Mulkerrins when she asked for his forecast, and so it proved. A very wee gear, mind, only a point in it in the end. And just to round off the occasion, there was a shemozzle. Hats off to the Tír Chonaill supporter who tried to break it up with his green flare, like he was armed with tear gas.
Back on RTÉ, Donegal‘s Ciarán Moore joined the panel, pointing out that he was 10 when Murphy raised the Sam Maguire. “We all grew up watching him,” he said, like Murphy wasn’t feeling elderly statesman-ish enough.
While Donegal had to wait a whole 12 months to get their hands on the Anglo Celt Cup again, just the 68 years went by since Louth last laid their paws on the Delaney Cup. And oh my, what an occasion in Croke Park. Divil a sign of blue, the Dubs left watching on telly for the first time since Brian Boru was in short trousers.
The game? Another uppy-downy inny-outy contest, to use the technical terms about these things, Louth coming out on top by two points come the final hooter. They’ll be dancing in the streets, from Termonfeckin to Tullyallen, for another 68 years.
“On days like this, you’re just appreciative of what football can bring to counties,” said Seán Kavanagh on RTÉ as Sam Mulroy thrust the trophy in the direction of the heavens, the red-clad half of Hill 16, most of whom looked around 12, bouncing on the concrete beneath their feet like it was a trampoline. Glorious. The Croke Park neighbouring residents will hope it‘s another 68 years before they’re back, their celebrations breaking the Richter scale.
“Fifty-eight years is a long bloody time not to win silverware,” said Louth manager Ger Brennan, to Damien O’Meara. Famine over. Louth? Not so wee any more.
The one disappointment about the weekend‘s football was that the lads didn’t wear skorts in solidarity with their camogie sisters. “The controversy over the wearing of skorts by camogie players has deepened,” the RTÉ Nine O’Clock newsreader announced gravely, in or around reports on Ukraine and India/Pakistan.
If the Camogie Association isn’t careful, they’ll have Donald Trump intervening soon. Although he might find them somewhat more recalcitrant than the players in those other conflicts. There’s no end to this mortification.
