It may only be March, but on the basis of what we have seen over the past week all the rest needn't even bother turning up for any of the end-of-year award dinners. After three days at Cheltenham and an afternoon's football at Croke Park it is all but impossible to envisage anyone challenging either A P McCoy or the Gaelic footballers of Crossmaglen Rangers when the gongs for the year 2000 are being handed out next December. These have been days when it has been an undiluted pleasure just to sit back and let all the magnificence and all the emotion wash over you. To have served witness has been a privilege.
Three years ago Tony McCoy secured one of Cheltenham's holy grails with his Champion Hurdle-Gold Cup double on Make A Stand and Mr Mulligan. The winners and the prizes may have been fewer this year but this was undoubtedly a Cheltenham of greater significance and import for him. His riding, particularly in a truly memorable Champion Chase last Wednesday, was peerless. But just as impressive was the dignity and circumspection of his reaction to the death of his Gold Cup ride, Gloria Victis, the following afternoon. Just now, at a time when he is at the peak of his craft, McCoy is something close to the complete individual sportsman. Mere awards barely do him justice.
Judging by the prepared script for the middle day of the Cheltenham Festival there was little point in any of the other horses and jockeys even attempting to mount a challenge to Flagship Uberalles. The long-time favourite for the Champion Chase had spread-eagled most of his opponents through the winter and was touted in many quarters as a nailed-on certainty. None of that took the McCoy factor on Edredon Bleu into account.
In an almost teasing way he had said the Champion Chase was one he really wanted to win, as if there is even the most modest race in his world for which he wouldn't bust a gut. But right from the off it was abundantly clear that this was a contest to which he had given a copious amount of thought. Wary of the power and speed of his challengers, McCoy reasoned that he had to draw the sting of each in turn by slowly but inexorably winding up the race over the last three fences and up the hill.
With the favourite making slight errors on the run for home, it was a plan that was working to perfection. But within sight of the finish Norman Williamson and the fast-finishing Direct Route threatened to rain on McCoy's parade. Both men and their horses settled down for battle and it was McCoy's strength, determination and cussedness that pushed Edredon Bleu through the line for the narrowest of victories. It is already being talked about as one the great Cheltenham rides and with very good reason. This is a legend which shows no sign of diminishing.
But there is more to the man and the jockey than mere racing genius. Shy and almost self-deprecating, McCoy is an impressive figure. But right at the centre of the mix there is a compassion and a genuine concern for the animals on which he plies his trade day in, day out which elevates McCoy from the ranks of the merely gifted or talented.
The decision to pitch Gloria Victis into Thursday's Gold Cup was a brave and even foolhardy one. But the inexperienced novice could have had no better guide as his pilot nursed him around the unforgiving Prestbury Park course. Horse and jockey may have gone on to win their sport's greatest prize had they not come down two fences from home but such speculation matters little now.
As the race reached its climax and the partying began, McCoy sat disconsolate and in tears as his horse was humanely destroyed a few hundred yards away. For a long time afterwards he looked grey and drawn and when he spoke about what had happened the following day he told reporters that he was not ashamed to say he had cried for an hour as the full import of what had happened sank in. Embarrassment should have been the emotion furthest from his mind. Pride would be a lot closer to the mark.
McCoy may epitomise everything that is admirable in individual sporting achievement, but at the other end of the spectrum Crossmaglen Rangers are testimony to the unbreakable power of a closely-knit and driven team unit. There were periods of play of such consummate quality during their third All-Ireland club win in four years that they made you ache and long for the summer afternoons of the Championship.
Crossmaglen's exploits during the latter part of the last decade and now at the start of this have been heroic and remarkable. This was a club better known in the GAA consciousness for political wrangling than for football and for speeches at Congress rather than at Croke Park. Officials readily concede that the spin-off from the continuing occupation of their ground retarded Crossmaglen's development by 20 years.
But through it all they remained steadfast in the justness of their cause and that stance has been rewarded. The easing of the security situation also cast aside the shackles of the players and now that they have cut loose they are without equal at any club anywhere in the country.
A visit to the town and the club leaves an indelible mark. Crossmaglen is truly a place apart. Coralled into the Six Counties at partition almost by geographical accident, it is nominally part of the North and yet it looks south for everything it needs culturally and economically. The uniqueness of this position has invested the people with a self-confidence which is deeprooted but in no way showy or bragging.
This translates into their football as well. Crossmaglen inevitably start games in imperious form and then, as if sensing the need for a greater challenge, ease off only to stick the knife in clinically in the final quarter. Oisin McConville's goal against Na Fianna was truly a thing to behold and came at the end of an intricate Crossmaglen move that mixed awesome power with delicate finesse. If we see other scores as good during the rest of this 2000 season we are in for quite a GAA year.
On the basis of what we saw in Paris, David Humphreys and Ireland might still mount a late challenge but even with nine months to go, McCoy and Crossmaglen as man and team of the year? It looks like no contest.
