Better late than never
YOU remember his run, of course. Who could forget it? If the 1975 All-Ireland final had been played on snow then Mickey Ned O’Sullivan wouldn’t have left a footprint.
Time and again he came swerving and slaloming through the Dublin defence, until one of those runs came to - well, full stop doesn’t do it justice. Try an exclamation mark with double underlining.
Dublin full-back Sean Doherty stopped the Kerry captain with extreme prejudice and Mickey Ned was introduced to the joys of hospital food. He never got to make that trip up the steps of the Hogan Stand, never got to say his cúpla focail, and never got to hoist the Sam Maguire over his head. Until last Saturday, when his club, Kenmare, arranged for O’Sullivan to lift the Sam Maguire and make his speech.
As the centrepiece of a function raising funds for Kenmare GAA club’s €750,000 development, it was perfect. Trouble was, GAA President Sean Kelly was unavailable. Who’d replace him? How about the man who put O’Sullivan in hospital three decades ago?
Doherty recalls Mickey Ned’s impact on that 1975 final, and his impact on Mickey Ned: “He had made a few trips up the park before the incident happened. We had sent word back down to our half-backs and forwards to do something about this young fellow who was haring around the place. Things were getting serious.
“On his third trip forward, it was time to do something about it. We had to, or otherwise we would be destroyed. Paddy Cullen was shouting at us and suddenly I saw a shadow coming my way. I was running in a straight line and Mickey was running straight at me, and there were a couple of guys at the side of me.
“Neither of us seemed to be able to put on the brakes and we collided. It could have been any one of us that got hurt and unfortunately Mickey came off worst.”
O’Sullivan’s recollection is broadly similar. With good reason.
“I got the ball at midfield and started the run and I have to confess, I don’t have a great recollection of it but I kinda concur with Sean’s version of the event as I was kinda shuttled in. We met early on and decided on a version.”
Why didn’t he pass the ball?
“That was a question Mick O’Dwyer often asked and if I had passed the ball then we would not be having a night out tonight. Sean was lucky I wasn’t 14 stone! We both looked after each other the day after I left the Mater - we had lunch, discussed it and shook hands, and we are friends ever since.”
Suiting the deed to the words, when Doherty handed over the cup at the function, the Kenmare man’s first words were genuine - “What I want to say, Sean, is all is forgiven” - but it was a bit different in 1975.
O’Sullivan had no speech prepared, for one thing.
“I was superstitious but felt if we won the words would flow. Imagine if I was able to make the speech knowing what I know tonight, I would be accepting Sam Maguire on behalf of a team that would go on to win eight All-Irelands and that the team we beat would, along with ourselves, win 12 of the next 13. No one would believe me and yet it came to pass.
“Dublin/Kerry is possibly the greatest rivalry in Irish sport but unlike every other rivalry, it has been pure. If a sheep farmer from Kerry was to meet a man from Ballyfermot, there would be mutual respect.”
Respect doesn’t rule out ribbing.
O’Sullivan recounts a tale told by one of his successors as Kerry captain, Páidí Ó Sé.
“Páidí was in Dublin one day and he was out by St Vincent’s football club and he spotted Gay O’Driscoll, Brian Mullins and Tony Hanahoe sitting on a bench outside the clubhouse. He could see the bench was laden down with All-Ireland medals. Páidí said he just had to stop and get out of the car, went over and sat down on the bench next to them and the bench collapsed!”
It all came from the ’75 clash, though. Dublin had won in ’74, but Kerry’s victory the following year meant the next 11 years set diamond on diamond. Doherty described the dull Sunday in September 30 years ago that started it all.
“We thought we would be able to beat Kerry, as they were a young team and they had shown nothing for a couple of years. We went into the game quietly confident that we could win it but we paid a high price.
“We got a rude awakening very early when Kerry had a new style or new plan when they pulled me and our two corner-backs Robbie Kelleher and Gay O’Driscoll out the field and they turned us out there. They had ferocious speed and we suddenly realised we had a fight on our hands.
“The ball was slippery but it did not favour either side and it was really an eye-opener for us. We conceded a soft goal early on that John Egan put away and we were not as sharp as they were in around the square. Heffo was concerned at half-time because we were under pressure all over the field. We were just not able to hold them out and even a stern half-time talking to from Heffo was not enough to enable us to raise our game.”
Dublin never gave up but they could never regain the momentum, and the side was at a low ebb when John Moloney sounded the final whistle.
“We were used to winning, used to the high life.
“We were disappointed we had underestimated Kerry. That was the real sucker punch but in many ways it laid the foundations for our redemption in ’76 and ’77.
“It was only after the game that we realised we had approached it all wrong.
“We should never have taken anyone for granted, which is what happened.
“We paid the price for over-confidence because we were responsible for launching possibly the greatest team ever to play Gaelic football.”
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