Black clouds are hanging over football in Louth
CHAMPIONSHIP football conjures up certain images.
Long, hot summer days, county flags and colours flying high, pre-match craic and banter on pavements outside traditional watering holes, bumping into old friends and foes, anticipation and excitement on the way to the stadium, the hustle and bustle inside the ground, the hair standing on the back of your neck as the crowd sings Amhran na bhFiann . . . and above all, sunshine and short sleeves. But Championship 2020 is a different animal.
There were no traffic jams or long delays coming in past St Lomans into Mullingar. The journey over was short and uneventful. No LH cars on the road and no familiar faces to share a chat. Parking was available right outside Cusack Park’s front gate. There was no hassle squeezing through the turnstiles.
The place is empty and eerie - you can sit where you like. Beneath the heavy grey clouds in a cold damp Cusack Park stand with the rain dancing on the ground below, this all seems very unnatural and about as far away from championship football as you can imagine.
It isn’t yet 1 o’clock, but you’d be forgiven for thinking it was an evening throw-in. Where are the floodlights? I normally pen the column on Sunday evening and Monday morning, but with lots of dead time to kill I decided to bring the laptop with me and write it ‘live’, so to speak.
I’ve run out on the Mullingar pitch many times during my career but have difficulty remembering a more bleak setting than this afternoon. The sky is almost on top of us.
Both sets of players are out early on the soggy surface, going through their pre-match routines. Not alone can you hear every shout and grunt of the warm-up, but after the torrential downpours of recent days, even the squelch of their boots is audible. Both sets of players pour off the pitch after the warm-up. They’re soaked to the skin. I hope Tony Reynolds has a change of gear.
Today has all the hallmarks of a January O’Byrne Cup tie or a wintry relegation dogfight. This will be more a test of stamina and resilience than true skill or footballing ability. I hope we’re up to it.
Half-time: Longford 1-5 Louth 1-4. The scoreline is probably a
fair reflection of what’s gone on for the previous 37 minutes. Referee David Coldrick is poor, but in these trying underfoot conditions he’s giving the benefit of the doubt to the defenders. His leniency in the tackle, however, is favouring the stronger and more physical Longford men. They’re giving little quarter to the likes of Conor Whelan, Ciaran Keenan and Conall McKeever.
On a day when scores are at a premium the concession of that 1-2 between the seventh and eighth minute could prove costly. Sam Mulroy has been our only scorer in the opening half. Himself and Longford midfielder Darren Gallagher have accounted for all but 0-3 of the entire first-half tally.
Mulroy’s superb 27th-minute goal off the butt of the post via a deflection brought us back to level scores. He also tagged on four from four in another faultless display of dead ball kicking, but he can’t win it on his own.
Former County Secretary Pat Toner is keeping me company during the interval. It’s good to have a listening ear to share the frustrations. We both agree. It’s a day for bigger, stronger men.
Full-time: Longford 1-9 Louth 1-7. Louth GAA’s 2020 involvement has finally come to an end. You could argue we had opportunities to win it, but ultimately Longford probably just about deserved it. Sam added three further points during the half, one from a 45 and two sublime efforts off either foot from play. But there were no other scoring contributors to lighten his load.
Twice Anthony Williams found himself in excellent goal-scoring positions at the edge of the square, but he was the wrong man in the right place and nothing came off either chance. Emmet Carolan and Liam Jackson also failed to hit the target when well-placed for scores.
But no blame is attached to any of the 20 lads in red today. They dug as deep as they possibly could. This was truly an awful day for football. One of the worst I can ever remember and that’s going back to the early 80s.
When Longford edged their noses in front (1-7 to 1-6) with their first score in 20 minutes you sensed there wasn’t going to be many more white flags raised. Conditions deteriorated even further in the final 10 minutes and the war of attrition intensified. Mistakes and errors multiplied during that closing period, with countless possessions being coughed up by either side.
Longford took the greater advantage and substitute Robbie Smith steered them home.
I was first out the stadium gate after Coldrick’s final whistle, and with the rain hopping off the roof I completed this closing paragraph in the car.
The journey home was quiet and uninterrupted. The phone never rang once. The usual calls about how we got on or what went wrong never came through. To me that kind of sums up where we are at as a county at the moment and the level of interest in the game.
I’m nearly glad there is no back door. I’m not sure anyone has the stomach for it. Neither the unpalatable prospect of Division 4 football in 2021, nor the search for a new manager entered my thoughts on the return trip. I switched the radio off and the combined efforts of Finbar Furey and Christy Moore took me home. It’s been a poor day . . . and an even poorer year.
Winter football is going to be a real leveller for the remainder of this championship season. A bit like the All-Ireland Club Championship where grit, determination and resilience regularly trumps tradition, quality and skill. Rain-sodden provincial venues could claim more unexpected victims in the coming weeks. Those left standing will have earned the right to play on the lush pastures of Jones Road come December.
It really is a championship like no other.