I thought that they were finished, close to a busted flush

AGENUINE, heartfelt respect has eluded the Mayo football team all through this decade. It was interesting to hear one of the greatest footballers of this generation last week officially inform Stephen Rochford, Aidan O’Shea and the rest of them huddling over in Castlebar that they will be wasting our time, and their own, bothering to show up tomorrow.

The opinion of Seán Cavanagh — having watched the Westerners stumble, crawl, fight and finally spring to another All-Ireland final — amounted to perhaps the gravest insult placed on the doorstep of the Mayo team.

It wasn’t the fact that Cavanagh said Dublin will win the All-Ireland title ‘fairly comfortably’. Or that he insisted Mayo’s only chance of living with the defending champs would depend on referee, Joe McQuillan allowing them to start ‘a row’.

It was because this was Cavanagh chatting — not just one of the most articulate footballers we have ever watched on a field, but a man who nearly always speaks absolute sense, and who does so with conviction, and an honesty which has always been brilliantly refreshing.

Cavanagh, simple and straight, told us that not one single team in the country is worthy of keeping company with Dublin on the game’s greatest stage.

He did not, even out of a brotherly politeness, exclude Mayo.

But how could Cavanagh get it so wrong? How could he be totally blinded to the astonishing combination of hunger and chivalry that is woven into the DNA of the gutsiest football team that has stepped up in our modern game?

That team is Mayo.

DUBLIN have their four AllIreland titles, and they are undoubtedly the best team there is at this time. But Mayo, as things stand, will be remembered just as speedily — and remembered as Dublin’s single greatest opponent of all.

They have footballers who have proven themselves every bit as formidable as any clutch of Dublin lads. And, indeed, some of these footballers, men like Keith Higgins, Colm Boyle and Lee Higgins (count in David Clarke, Cillian O’Connor and Andy Moran too, at a slight push) have been able to demonstrate depths of individual courage that very few men in the Dublin dressing room have been asked to summon forth.

Maybe Dublin have an equal amount of bravery stored up inside, and maybe they will demonstrate it soon, maybe even in the next 24 hours, but to date it has never been exhibited.

Of course Dublin are an outstanding group of men, and fronted by one, Stephen Cluxton (include as well Philly McMahon, James McCarthy, and Ciarán Kilkenny at another slight push) who has raised the bar on leadership to a level never seen before on a football field.

The essential difference is that we have not seen this Dublin team, or many of the individuals therein, left naked, bowed, humbled, beaten and beaten again — and we have never seen this Dublin team make such a long journey to get back up on its feet.

But we have seen Mayo perform such an act.

Again, and again, they have raised themselves, and not just after AllIreland semi-finals and finals, but this very summer. In half-empty grounds during hairy encounters with other teams of limited value, we’ve seen Mayo stumbling and struggling to play like a team at their full height.

That’s what makes this group of Mayo footballers, as a whole, and as individuals, such a magnificent and precious team — and a team for which, deep down (and unsaid) we have been more thankful than any other team that has played the game this past decade. Including Dublin. Think I’m gushing this morning? Or repenting for stating clearly at the beginning of this year that this Mayo team had definitely — for the last time — fought for and lost an All-Ireland title?

I thought they were finished, and close to a busted flush — I was just as disparaging of them as Cavanagh.

Watching Mayo all over again this summer has afforded me a whole new appreciation, and reminded me that there are qualities that are occasionally uncommon, amongst even the greatest football teams in the land.

And Mayo have qualities — and advantages — which now, more than any other time in the past few seasons, give them every chance of defeating Dublin tomorrow and wrecking the champions’ dreams of three titles in a row.

These include a greater hunger of course, but hunger on its own has never claimed Sam Maguire for anyone. Hunger, in truth, can be crippling.

It is Mayo’s greatest strength and always lingering weakness. Hungry teams, unfortunately — mistakenly — believe they are even more deserving. But Mayo have shown greater character than Dublin, and there is