Tony Leen: Mayo's magical mayhem spreads like a contagion

Then Mayo’s new messiah went searching beyond the upper Hogan for John O’Mahony and his wife’s cousin (Aidan Drake, who passed last year) in the heavens for any morsel that might nudge Mayo home. Home from the long war. And the scars that Moran determinedly chased out of house and home in the most remarkable transformation seen in the storied decades of the All-Ireland football championship.

‘Any of ye think Mayo can win the All-Ireland final?’, became a Moran cant to the press after their semi-final but the truth is not too many at home dared to see this coming either. It’s been a stunning surge from almost nowhere, stirred with an audaciously aggressive front foot approach without the ball that at times looks reckless and at times heroic.

But within Mayo's greatest story every told are the little accumulators that often would remain buried in defeat but woven into the grand story of victory. Here’s an example from the Mayo manager.

“David McBrien moves from Dublin – by the way, if anyone knows a construction job coming up can we get him one? He's had no job for six months, but he moved home to try to do this today. Enda Hession moved home, Tommy Conroy, Donnacha McHugh. They've all moved home from Dublin, packed up their lives, their girlfriends involved and that's the sacrifice they made to be here. Had I something to do with getting them home? It's probably bullying more than positive attitude, but it made a massive difference to us there when the going got tough.” 

What was equally profound and remarkable about Sunday’s historic All-Ireland final win over Kerry, the reigning champions and the game’s aristocrats, was Mayo’s organised and well-advertised mayhem. It’s difficult to see with the yoke of 1951 haunting them how the callow representatives of a county without an All-Ireland in 75 years could cast out those demons and sidestep landmines in the course of a frantic second half at Croke Park. But they did, and therein is a rich mine of future interrogation.

Over the course of the piece, Mayo turned a seven-point first quarter deficit into a 62nd minute lead that stood at five (1-19 to 1-14). That’s a twelve-point turnaround. Now was their moment to go for the drawbridge, to defend the citadel for kin and for their forefathers?

Fuhgeddaboudit!

This was a cannonball run from a wrecking crew who were beaten on the kickouts breaks but got more shots off, were a dismal 4/14 for two-point tries (29%), but went full ‘Tin Cup’ down the last and kept asking the caddie for more balls to fire from range at the Davin End. If Kerry couldn’t quieten Mayo’s fevered excitement, Mayo’s own players almost managed it, keeping an outmatched Kerry breathing in the process.

Ryan O’Donoghue eventually iced a big one to push out the gap to five late doors. Nearly there but for the fact that David Clifford was still at the far end, kicking a monstrous two pointer in the 65th minute against the wind off his right foot. Gulp.

A minute later his brother made it a two point game. Now gasping for air, Mayo had all the gelignite for the implosion the nation feared, watching with dread through their fingers.

Would Mayo dive in and foul Clifford? Would they actually lose their minds? (Hat tip here, by the by, to their team sports psychologist Rachel Clancy). In one moment, Kerry’s Michael Jordan almost slipped the cover but the ball spilled from his grasp. Mayo just stayed there, hand over the flame. And left it there. The secret is not minding. Clifford forced an effort at a two and Sean O’Shea’s dropped short. After Ryan O’Donoghue’s two, Mayo were denied certainty at five up when Jordan Flynn smashed the crossbar with a fisted effort from no range. How could cruelty be that cruel?

After all, just like seven of their last eight finals, Mayo conceded the first goal inside 15 minutes. Pre-written scripts were obliging Kerry’s bid to bend the final grotesquely their way, early and often. They led 1-5 to 0-1 but once Jack Carney nailed his first two, Mayo were off the leash and rabid. Earlier this summer, they’d seen what half and half looked like and Moran and co couldn’t get on board with that.

All duck or no dinner, he reckoned.

“The caution is that's what happened (against) Roscommon if I'm being honest. I could never really talk freely about it but Kevin (McStay) and Stephen (Rochford) had a way of playing and it’s absolutely not the wrong way of playing - it's the way most teams play. And we were trying to change it. And when you try to change something and you feel on the pitch it's not working and you get caught between two stools, Roscommon happens. And when they have good forwards like Roscommon, that's what happens.

“And after that we just made a commitment. We said ‘we're just going after this’. And it didn't really work for the first 20 and then ‘boom’ it started and from then on it's been really good.” 

Anyone who spends half an hour in Moran’s company can’t but be ready to have a sup of whatever he’s having. He hasn’t and wouldn’t have much truck with the hierarchal status of any county, or any perception of same. Afterwards on Sunday, he told a story of a wealthy construction friend of his in Chicago.

“I always thought, in Mayo, that we were a bit down on ourselves. We got to an All-Ireland final against the greatest team of all time in 2017 and it was like the world ended, I was like, these are the greatest players that ever played, they're probably better than us and we maximised ourselves and nearly got over the line.

“I wear a Chicago Cubs cap, that’s not for style, I wouldn't have any style. But we went to Chicago, New York, London back in October, November to try and get our diaspora back involved. One of the most generous men I've ever seen insisted on buying me a Chicago Cubs hat. So I wear that just to remind myself of the Mayo people, successful Mayo people who went around the world and made millions of Euro, hired heaps of people, hired all the Irish boys when they were going over. If they can do it, why can't we do it on the football field?” 

Will it matter to any great extent that it was Kerry who collapsed under Mayo’s stampede in Croke Park? It will, and in short time. Beating Kerry in the last game of the season is the seasoning that tastes that little bit different. Jack O’Connor was gracious and honest in his assessment of Mayo’s intensity and his side’s bid for back to back titles, and an historic 40th All-Ireland.

“It wasn't the ending we envisaged after a tough enough year. But you have to take your hat off to Mayo. I thought they had more energy than us, more legs, more hunger, I just thought that on balance, Mayo were better than us on the day."

He added: “I'm long enough around the place to know that this is fantastic for the game of football. But from our point of view, we're bitterly disappointed because we're in the business of trying to win it for ourselves.” 

It renders nonsensical some of the analysis that Kerry were summer sure things in a championship that was wonderfully erratic. The defending champions never got to the pitch of the campaign, a point accepted afterwards by their manager.

"We only hit our straps two or three times this year. We just weren't consistent enough. We possibly got a bit of luck against maybe Tyrone and possibly a bit of luck against Dublin. And sometimes your luck runs out. Mayo might have got one or two breaks today so it balances itself out. But overall it was a year where I thought we played in fits and starts. That's a fair summation."

Of Kerry’s up and down championship, maybe.

Anyone shaping to make cold, sober sense of Mayo’s magic carpet ride might need a while longer.

And a tight grip.