The County Final

It was county final weekend in Sligo this week, so Tourlestrane won. Again.

They beat my club, Coolera-Strandhill. By a decent margin. Just like they did in the 2019 final. And the 2018 semi-final replay. And many other times in recent years.

It was dispiriting, deflating, crushing even. Go to the thesaurus and pick your word. It probably applies.

It was worse because we thought we had a chance this time. We had won our previous four games by double-digit margins and the lads were a joy to watch. Racking up good scores and not conceding much.

Meanwhile Tourlestrane were coming back to the pack. Or so we thought. They had been taken to extra-time in the semi-final and hadn’t looked as dominant as usual in their path to the big day.

But we were wrong. And as the cliché goes, it’s the hope that kills you. The parish had never been so well-decorated, but in the end we wanted the ref to blow it up. To put us out of our misery. We knew for most of the second half that it wasn’t going to be our day.

I looked out at the players sitting on the Markievicz Park turf afterwards. Listening to victory speeches that weren’t about them. Watching green and yellow jerseys lifting the cup and jumping and cheering. Again. And they hadn’t really landed a blow. Another winter of regrets. Another county final gone.

Players and supporters gathered in a sea of red in Coolera House afterwards. Former players had travelled back from all around the country for the game – by my count 13 of the 15 from our team in 2005 were there, as were many others. We had lost finals too, and remembered the importance of club solidarity in getting us through them.

And as the evening progressed the company and craic started to overcome the disappointment. We thanked the players for the fantastic football they played this year, we told each other that we mustn’t leave it so long next time, and we said that life goes on and we’ll look forward to another crack at Tourlestrane in 2022.

On the day after the 2005 final the defeated Curry team came to Strandhill. Not an easy thing to do, but we appreciated it. And so I was glad to hear that the lads had spent Monday singing songs with Hughie Lowry before meeting up with their Tourlestrane counterparts that evening. It’s all part of getting over a big loss.

One day Tourlestrane won’t win. Maybe it will be us who does, or maybe someone else. But one way or another a county final is a big thing. And it’s nice to know it still feels that way.

This is our heyday, baby!

And this is our heyday, baby

And we ain’t gonna be afraid to shine

Cos we can make our heyday last forever

And ain’t that what it’s all about

-       Mic Christopher - Heyday, 2001.

You know the song.

I can’t sing or play it for you here, but it’s the one from the Guinness ad. The one where Michael Fassbender (or is it the ex-Mayo footballer Kevin O’Neill?) dives off the Cliffs of Moher and swims to New York to say sorry to his brother. Or his friend. Someone who seems to forgive him anyway.

Jamie Callaghan, brought up down the road from me in Ransboro, sang a great version of it as the finale of Theme Night #26 – the online show we recorded back in April when we were in the throes of peak lockdown.

And I was reminded of it the other day when I met one of the great newspaper men of this town to ask his advice on writing a column. He’s retired now, and I joked about how things were in his heyday. He came straight back at me to say that his heyday wasn’t over yet. He may be retired from the day job, but he’s writing short stories now and being published, busy with a gaggle of grandchildren and no coronavirus was going to stop him.

And I think that’s what Mic Chrisopher was getting at. In his live shows he used to introduce this song by saying that the word ‘heyday’ was generally used to denote a time in the past where lay a person’s best work or the best time of their life. He thought however that each day you should aspire to do your best work, and always try to make this time the best time of your life.

Tragically, he died in an accident aged 32 soon after writing this song. What he’d give to be alive now – pandemic or no pandemic.

And that’s why we used it as the big closing song back in April. We all remember what it was like then, and indeed what it is still like to an extent. Everything has changed. We can’t see our family and friends in the way we would like. Businesses are suffering. Musicians can’t make a living.

But this is our heyday, baby. And each day we wake up we can treat it as such. We’re here, we’re alive, and a new day full of possibility is stretching out before all of us.

And ain’t that what it’s all about.

PS Jamie did a brilliant job on the song – you can listen to it here.