Dogged Donaghy gets off the ropes for final round

In America, basketball’s big men are separated into two distinct categories; guys like Kieran Donaghy who play ‘above the rim’, and guys like me, ‘space-eaters’.

When Donaghy exploded onto the national consciousness with Kerry in 2006 he was all about the high flying, highlight-reel plays that earned him the footballer of the year award that season. He injected fresh juice into a Kerry team and supporters who badly needed it. It was his energy, athleticism and, in particular, vertical leap, that set him apart from everybody else on the field.

Bomber might argue, but Gaelic football hadn’t seen anyone of his size with that level of quickness, combined with the soft hands and ball skills he possessed. He was unplayable at the time, revolutionising the way the game was approached from inter-county to Junior B club sides who began scouring the parish for the biggest man they could find to fill the No. 14 jersey.

But the passing of time has been unkind on his body, his legend has faded with an unforgiving accumulation of injuries which have slowed his wheels, and caused a lack of production in recent times that has had some supporters calling for his head.

Reputation means little in Kerry, don’t you know? He has an all-access Gold card pass to the Sports Surgery Clinic in Santry and knows far too many up there by their first name. He has had knee surgery, multiple foot surgeries, shoulders done, elbow problems, various ongoing back issues, and the latest long-standing situation with the groin and hip flexor, which has been the most debilitating and slowest to improve. His chronological age isn’t in the same decade as his playing age. His odometer would have to be wound back about 100,000 miles to make any price at a used car dealership.

But that’s why after the semi-final replay in Limerick, as the Kerry crowd poured onto the field, there seemed such a tremendous outpouring of joy for all the players. Particularly Donaghy. He was like a boxer on his last legs, written off by the whole country and somehow managed to find the self-belief to hang in there and come out swinging in the final round.

The people’s champion was back. It was a testament to his mental strength more than anything else.

We saw him adjust the way he played the game to cope with his diminished physical capabilities. Instead of out-jumping, he out-worked. He used his body to great effect to manoeuvre enough free space — his hips, backside, anything to hold his ground and battle the full back for two yards. Those two crucial yards are all he needs to use his long reach to grab possession. Once it’s in his paws, his decision-making is usually flawless. It was a huge transformation to see how many catches he made with both feet on the ground as opposed to off it.

Space-eating at its very best.

He and I go back a bit. Before the days of Google Maps, we travelled to every obscure corner of Ireland searching for basketball gyms and football pitches. We roomed together on every road trip, and yes, he’s an absolute nightmare to share with. His phone never stops. He’s obviously hard of hearing, because our TV and his conversations could be heard from the elevator. As for sleeping, an optional extra — every night before a game was like a kid waiting for Santa Claus. No fear, just genuine excitement. And everybody fed off it. When he was a teenager trying to cut his way with a Tralee Tigers county league basketball team. I was perplexed why everyone in the gym was calling this scrawny kid ‘Star’. It struck me how everybody in the gym seemed to know him, and how he knew all their names; he gave the younger kids a high-five, the older women got a peck on the cheek. It was bizarre.

I didn’t like the nickname then, and I still don’t bother with it. He didn’t give it to himself, mind, but a tag like that brings great expectation. I’ve always felt that it helped create a false perception of him. A misconception of a flashy, selfish individual, who was more interested in personal gain rather than team success. The irony of the nickname is that the perception is nowhere close to the reality.

Playing a league final against Derry in Parnell Park on a searing hot day in 2008. I was walking down the tunnel to the dressing room after the game and out of nowhere this character in a suit collared me for a random drug test. We had travelled to the game by train that weekend so we were rushing to make the homeward journey. I quickly showered and got changed into my Kerry tracksuit and headed up to the testing room to find Donaghy above before me. Time ticked by, as we downed bottle after bottle of water and energy drinks, but to no avail. We were as dehydrated as a carcass in the Sahara. The train home was looking doubtful, but we assumed somebody would have made alternative arrangements for us. Eventually, we did what we had to do, completed the paperwork and headed downstairs to find everybody gone. Vince Linnane, Kerry’s long serving gear man rang to tell me not to worry, he had put our bags and clothes on the train bound for Kerry. Sound Vince. But Kieran and I had missed the last train from Heuston, and with out gear bags went our wallets.

To this day, our then girlfriends (now wives) believe this was all a big set up, some elaborate ruse to secure a night out enjoying Dublin’s hospitality. It really wasn’t, but the two of us, in Kerry track suits and all, without a coin in our pockets, had the best of nights in the capital.

When faced with a problem, Donaghy doesn’t bitch or moan, he just finds a way around it and keeps moving forward. That problem-solving ability was never more necessary than a few weeks ago. I sent him a text in the hours after the quarter-final against Galway. I knew he would be hurting he didn’t see get any game time. I asked him if he wanted to meet for a quiet pint somewhere but he declined. He just wanted to go home and keep his head down. He seemed almost embarrassed. This was the first time in his career that he was fit and available for selection, and did not feature. The next day, he called me to go play nine holes out at Tralee Golf club.

He was still down, but I could tell there was plenty of fight left in him. I said all the usual things, tried to be as upbeat and positive as I could. In truth, I’m not entirely sure if I truly believed what I was selling, but he’s a guy who needs positivity like oxygen, it feeds and nourishes him. Nothing to do with me, but he had his mind made up long before he crashed his drive down the middle of the first fairway that he was not going to go quietly into the night.

He had already resolved that he was going to work his way into Fitzy’s rotation, whatever it would take. And without that mental fortitude, we would have been beaten comprehensively by 14-man Mayo in Croke Park and the landscape in Kerry would be very different for everybody.

I’m not sure what tomorrow will bring for Donaghy or Kerry. But I know just over a month ago, retirement must have been on his mind.

Today? Redemption.