A last lament for our September Sundays

LAST look around the old place, confetti strewn across the turf, the odd straggler still in the stand, not ready, not just yet, to let go of it all.

Win or lose it’s bitter-sweet the leaving of the place that day, even to those of us who know with certainty we’ll be back. To say that it marks an end is something of a trite observation, of course it does, that’s the whole point of it.

It’s more apt, perhaps, to say it represents a transition. From the summer to the autumn. From carefree days to days laden with obligation. It’s not the first time you feel the nip in the air or notice the evenings drawing in, but it is the first time it registers with you on a conscious level. It’s all over now, baby blue.

Time, the passing of the seasons is as much about a state of mind, of perception as anything else. Until then, until that very moment it’s summer. We look forward to it, with hope, with expectation, with wonder and just like that over seventy minutes, one afternoon, it’s gone.

The trip back home, down the motorway, is almost elegiac. Be it in victory or defeat eventually a time will come when the talk dies down, the ins and the outs of the match parsed to within an inch their lives, and you sit in silent contemplation.

On a fine day the setting sun will cast its golden orange rays across the countryside and, though dazzling and distracting, few drivers are glad to see it go down. Not on this day of all days. Not on the third Sunday of September.

For pretty much as long as any of us have been alive the third Sunday in September has had a special place in Irish life. The words on their own are enough, people know, there’s no need to spell it out.

Just as Leinster House means the Dáil, just as Number 10 means the office of the British Prime Minister, the third Sunday in September means one thing and one thing only – the All Ireland football final.

The first Sunday of September and the hurling decider are almost as indelibly linked. It doesn’t resonate in the same way, however. Not because it’s any less important, simply because it comes first, simply because there’s more to come just two weeks down the line.

There’s a tug on the heartstrings alright, a reminder that our time is finite, that we better enjoy it while it lasts, our September days and our September dreams. The denouement of eight months of striving, eight months of plotting and planning, eight months of living and breathing every moment, every twist and every turn. September has so long been the centre of our sporting firmament that thoughts of a life without it in its current form are hard to wrap your head around. In the midst of all the gnashing of teeth and consternation about the decision to adopt the Super 8 format – and really we should beware thinking the Twitter echo chamber is representative of anything but itself – the decision to play the All Ireland finals in August has slipped somewhat under the radar. It’s comfortably the most significant decision taken at last weekend’s Congress in Croke Park. Bigger than the election of a new president, bigger than the restriction of replays, bigger than the Super 8. The very fabric of life on this island has been altered and that’s not just idle hyperbole. This was a decision not to be taken lightly and, we have to assume, it wasn’t. It was a decision born of necessity and, all things considered, the correct decision was taken. To gain any semblance of control over the fixture situation the inter-county season needed to be restricted. Plenty on Twitter and elsewhere have derided the extra three weeks for club competition as derisory and maybe it is, maybe these players and pundits have thought more and more deeply about this than we have, but three weeks hardly seems insignificant. The decision will allow for the GAA to move towards playing off all competitions within the calendar year, which everybody seems to agree is the right direction of travel. The gaps between games for club sides are frankly ridiculous. Ballyea played their All Ireland semi-final six weeks before the All Ireland final having, in turn, waited nearly ten weeks since they defeated Thurles Sarsfields in the Munster final in November for that match with Galway’s St Thomas. There are, of course, drawbacks to the decision beyond the obvious emotional resonances. Pat Spillane highlighted some of those on RTÉ last Sunday evening. The principal one amongst those being the loss of the month as a promotional vehicle. That’s not an argument to be pooh-poohed. It’s a very real concern. All the same it feels like a price worth paying for allowing the GAA to move towards – and it’s just a move not a panacea – a saner approach to fixtures. So this year as we make our way from Croke Park on that fateful day, it will carry the weight with it of all those that have gone before in a way we’ve never experienced before. Time to say goodbye? Unfortunately we must.