NOT SET IN STONE
Dublin are a class apart but ongoing glory isn’t inevitable
TWO of the most entertaining TV programmes of the Christmas period took GAA stories as their subjects. And in their ways, the tales of Jason Sherlock and the ageless Offaly team of 1982 help add some context to anticipation of the footballing year to come — one many believe is done weeks before it will properly begin.
Dublin look unbeatable on this first morning of 2019, as Kerry did back on January 1, 1982.
Empires aren’t small-scale; they loom over their environments, resplendent in their power and their majesty.
The rest of the country is craning necks upwards to try and take in the splendour of the truly wonderful side Jim Gavin has put together.
It is impossible for many to imagine them ever getting beaten.
Younger Dublin supporters will struggle to recall a season that didn’t end with All-Ireland glory.
But when the county won the first of their All-Irelands under Jim Gavin in 2013, it was only their second in 18 years, a third in 28.
This empire has risen quickly — and the story of Jason Sherlock was a reminder of this.
‘Jayo’, the documentary shown on RTÉ last Sunday night, was most obviously notable for the aspects of his personal life it revealed, in particular the poignant story of a fragile relationship with his late father.
It was also useful, though, as a reminder of just how bare Sherlock’s Dublin career was. The AllIreland to which he inspired his county in 1995 was a brief blue flash in decades that were dominated by other colours.
Dublin could only manage the status of minor characters as Kerry re-emerged in the mid1990s from a barren decade; and when Ulster rose in the early 2000s, it was Kerry that provided the most telling opposition.
And for the rest of the first decade of this young millennium, Dublin flattered and always faltered.
In those years, Sherlock remained a classy pivot in their forward line, but the summers followed a familiar pattern, especially in the second half of the 2000s: Leinster would be conquered with ease, the hopes of supporters would balloon, and they would be ruthlessly pricked long before All-Ireland final day.
Sherlock retired from intercounty football in May 2010, but he played his last match for Dublin nine months previously, in the disastrous All-Ireland quarterfinal defeat to Kerry in Croke Park.
The day is remembered as the county’s Year Zero, recalled for Pat Gilroy’s description of his team as ‘startled earwigs’.
That day, when Sherlock was taken off with 24 minutes played, the idea of a Dublin empire would have seemed as improbable, as daftly remote, as flying cars or colonies on Mars.
Nothing stays fixed, though, not failure and not success.
Sherlock’s retirement was not a critical part of Dublin becoming champions; he was approaching his mid-30s when he stopped with the inter-county game. He simply ran out of road.
Gilroy, meanwhile, got on with the business of bringing shape and sangfroid to a team whose mood had been too easily dictated by Hill 16.
Dublin got tougher and more disciplined and little more than two years after that humiliation against Kerry, they were champions again. Gavin has expertly harnessed their resources since, and suddenly Dublin are an empire.
But Sherlock’s playing story was a reminder that there was little inevitable about it.
And the terrific account of Offaly’s All-Ireland win in 1982 reminded us that the end comes to great sides, too.
‘Players of the Faithful’ was a marvellous study of the side that stopped Kerry winning five AllIrelands in a row. This seemed like a fresh telling of a 36-year-old story because it concentrated on Offaly. Their famous win that wet September day is usually described as an agony for Kerry as much as it is the astonishing tale of a small, dual county winning their third football Championship in 12 seasons.
But Offaly were well managed by the fascinating Eugene McGee, and he wrung just about all he could from a gifted generation.
They had been coming, too, winning their third successive Leinster title in 1982, as well as losing the 1981 final to Kerry.
By 1982, they were the most seasoned opponent Kerry could face, and even then it took the stunning intervention of Seamus Darby to deny Kerry.
Their empire went into decline — if winning three-in-a-row between 1984 and 1986 constitutes decline.
And in this context it does. The documentary revisited the old stories of a song celebrating the five-in-a-row having already been recorded, and of the merchandise ready to be sold once the final whistle sounded.
Kerry were left devastated, and Dublin won the All-Ireland the next year (their last before Sherlock inspired them in 1995), before that three-in-a-row, the last blaze of the Golden Years.
Success isn’t inevitable, and it doesn’t last. They were the two lessons imparted by two of the most enjoyable television interludes of the last week.
It sounds hackneyed and worn to warn that success is no inevitability, and that it can’t last forever. But it’s true.
Dublin fans are entitled to savour the possibilities contained within the coming nine months. And if they do win a fifth All-Ireland title in a row, they must be hailed as the greatest football team of all time.
But there is a thrill, too, in remembering that nothing is ever that certain.
Empires rise and they falter, too.