Vanquished Kingdom suffers the blues

SOME days are for living; others for getting through.

And yesterday in Kerry fell comfortably into the latter category.

Nobody told us there’d be days like these. After the best of times, it’s difficult to contend with the worst, when that all-consuming feeling of emptiness refuses to take its leave.

Tyres sourced for crossroad bonfires were returned to silage pits as a county battened down the hatches and pulled the curtains for a long, difficult winter.

An all-consuming pall of disappointment competed with the showers over Tralee and Killarney all day as downbeat stewards assembled to receive their yellow bibs and instructions for a homecoming parade few knew how to approach.

“Kerry have lost All-Irelands before and people always turn out in big numbers,” reassured Sgt Ray Walsh, lifting his head from dotting the Ts on the safety plan in Killarney. But everyone knew it wouldn’t be the same. Not when Sam was having his ears wigged on Merrion Square.

The band played on, damp flags hung in the moist air and children scaled fathers’ shoulders to catch a glimpse of their heroes parading, grim-faced and heavy-hearted, along Tralee’s Denny Street and Killarney’s College Square.

On Radio Kerry, the conspiracy theorists were out in force, jabbing the finger of blame at the referee, the media, insufficient injury time, high-flying Dublin elbows and whatever you’re having yourself.

But despite the disappointment and the anti-climax, the community notice read out at the very start of the programme captured the mood of a county.

“Radio Kerry,” the newsreader announced, “has not been informed of any deaths this morning.”