Fortune favours the brave in Connacht

Brendan O’Brien

Form never, ever, counts for more than a hill of beans when the two Connacht neighbours meet to discuss business.

Take the experiences of Galway's Paul Clancy, who meets the old foe for the eighth time in ten seasons in tomorrow's provincial final. His own personal ledger shows three wins cancelled out by four losses. Nip and tuck stuff.

His best and worst memories of Mayo are separated by 12 short months. That's how fast the wind changes between these two, where bragging rights swing quicker than a teenager's moods.

Castlebar seven years ago towers above the rest as the day that elicits the widest Clancy grin. His first two seasons in maroon had been ended by Mayo, but this day was destined to be different.

Kevin Walsh remarked afterwards about how it was the first time he had ever seen a traffic jam in Claremorris on the day of a Galway match. 34,000 souls shoe-horned themselves into McHale Park the biggest Connacht championship crowd in yonks.

By the afternoon's demise, that nearly-great Mayo team had breathed its last, skewered once and for all on a four-point defeat. The path they had forged to the All-Ireland final for two long years was Galway's to follow. Galway though would find its end.

Maurice Sheridan said after the '98 game that he hoped Galway would win that All-Ireland, with the rider that, if they did, he wanted to meet them in Tuam the following year.

His prayers were answered and, on a rain-drenched afternoon with fans perched precariously on top of toilet roofs and dressing rooms in scenes reminiscent of days gone by, Mayo turned the tables again, John Maughan being chaired jubilantly off the pitch clutching the match ball.

"In '98 they were coming off the back of their good runs in the All-Irelands," remembers Clancy. "We went down with a pretty young team, an unfancied side and that launched us. Then in '99 they did the exact same thing to us.

"Things tend to see-saw that way between ourselves and Mayo It doesn't matter how things go later in the All-Ireland, there's never more than the kick of a ball between us in Connacht."

Like any local derby, the stakes are raised to fever pitch by the managerial criss-crossing of the two borders. Clancy, having spent all but two of his nine seasons in the county jersey under the guidance of a Mayo man knows about that better than most.

"They certainly seem to produce good managers," he laughs. "In fairness, they always leave the green and red at home when they come over to Galway. With a lot of Mayo people living in Galway, the interest is always high. It's an enjoyable day more than anything."

It's the kind of day Clancy has to remind himself of when the ogre of pre-season training looms on cold winter nights. After a decade collecting Connacht and All-Ireland medals, few would blame him were he to mothball the boots and polish up the golf clubs instead.

"At the start of the year it can be hard. You're thinking, 'no, I don't want to be involved in this'. Travelling long distances for league matches and going to places like Armagh and getting hockeyed can be hard to take but championship football is highly addictive.

"The week up to a Connacht final, it's easy see why you stay involved. You wouldn't swap it for 18 holes of golf on a Sunday morning. I can play golf at any stage.

"I want to get as much out of my football career as I can. I'm injury free touch wood so I want to knock another few years out of it before I go."

With other 'vets' like Michael Donnellan, Declan Meehan and Padraic Joyce still manning the line, questions persist over the team's hunger. Clancy waves them away, pointing out that these are relatively young men. Inquiries as to their inconsistent league form and a stuttering semi-final win over Leitrim are accepted as more vaild, though Clancy points out that Galway weren't the only team to wane against stubborn underdogs.

"When you're playing in your own province it's never easy. We were happy with our commitment and fitness. Against Leitrim, we kicked so many wides we should have been out of sight. Other days they were going over."

More than any other, tomorrow they'll pray those balls go over.