BEAUTY OF THE BEASTS
Donegal set the tone in 2012 for a wonderful era of defensive football...and it’s the only way to go
IT never ceases to amaze how a crack of light can still shine through in the darkest hour. Three days after we buried our father and still raw with grief, I found myself sitting in the toilet cubicle that they called a dressing room in the old Páirc Uí Chaoimh, with Paidí going off the head.
It was half-time in the 2002 Munster semi-final replay but we knew in our bones that we were already done for and Tom O’Sullivan, our own king of cool, was in his firing line.
Tom was being taken to the cleaners by Colin Corkery and Páidí was about to pop a blood vessel in response.
‘Jesus Christ, Tom, what the f**k are you at,’ he screamed at O’Sullivan.
‘Ah Páidí, the space inside is a curse, it is killing me,’ protested Tom and the pained tone of his defence set us off. I caught Darragh’s eye and for the first time in a hellish week, I felt the giggles coming on.
What was so funny? Well it’s one of those private jokes that only a Kerry corner-back would get.
The notion that you could blame a half acre of unoccupied grass for having your backside handed to you was the kind of defence that would only serve to leave you as fair game for every wannabe stand-up that was in our group.
We were gunslingers, defending was an individual pursuit and you were judged by what numbers your opponent posted and nothing else. When I think of it now and the slagging matches I had with O’Sullivan – ‘he took you for 1-3, while I only gave up 0-2’ – it is the kind of talk that would get you chewed out of a modern dressing room. Now, defending is all about the collective.
Funny how football fashion changes; last year that patch of unoccupied grass we used to scoff at was where I ended up pitching a tent as I auditioned in practice games for the role of sweeper.
When you are playing you don’t really have much time, or use, for moralising about how the game is played.
Anyway, it demands that you adapt or die. Within 12 months of that three-point defeat in Cork, Tyrone were herding us into corners in Croke Park and along the way we learned to adapt. However, for most of my career, the way we defended remained the same.
We still went man-on-man and placed our faith that there would be enough pressure on the ball coming in to give you more than a fighting chance.
There were days when you got torched for it – I am still scorched from the memory of Pádraic Joyce sending registered letters to Micheal Meehan in the 2008 quarter-final when I got reddened – but you got on with it, until the risk started to outweigh the reward.
The tipping point? I don’t know if there was one but Donegal set the bar for collective defending that sent everyone else back to the drawing board.
Back in 2012, I spent 70-odd minutes marking Colm McFadden in an All-Ireland quarter-final and while he was a frightening prospect, he was not half as scary as the 40 yards of grass that separated us from everyone else. I am betting that O’Sullivan was somewhere up in the Hogan Stand having a laugh.
When Donegal were at their peak, they were hell to play against. You went into their half and they swamped you and then they came out and hit you hard on the break.
Far from being repelled by the way they played, Tomás and I often spoke about how their game was perfectly tailored to our individual strengths. You had 13 others supporting you in defence and then when you won back the ball, you had a licence to scorch through a wide open channel. Anyway, Tomás used to reckon if he was afforded that kind of support, he would have had to build an extension to house all those extra All-Stars that would have come his way.
And then last Sunday evening, I hit the remote control to watch Kerry/ Donegal and their jerseys were about the only thing I recognised.
They set up man-on-man while getting cleaned out in midfield and their isolated full-back line got taken for 2-7 in open play.
Afterwards, Rory Gallagher suggested he was rolling out a new system of play and, of course, that set tongues wagging that if the masters of mass defence had abandoned it as a tactic, the game was about to enter a new era of open expansive football.
Steady. There is little likelihood that Gallagher’s conversion to orthodox 15-on-15 football is permanent, especially with the dwindling defensive options at his disposal – Donegal’s future post Neil McGee was on view last Sunday and it was not pretty.
They will head for Roscommon today – the result of which will have a critical bearing on their chances of remaining a Division 1 team – and you can bet he will take out some protection to give his team a chance.
That’s because everyone is at it, single sweepers, double sweepers and whatever you are having yourself – and there is a reason for that. It’s the defence, stupid.
And, trust me, space takes defending.
I know because a man once told me it was a curse that could kill.
There is little likelihood that Gallagher’s conversion to 15-on-15 football is permanent – it was not pretty