Pauline conversion

Three eventful years into an inter-county career, Kerry’s Paul Galvin says he’s still learning his trade. He’s also one of the GAA’s more insightful interviewees, says Tony Leen.

WHEN you survive on nibbles of counterfeit candour and recycled respect for opposition, genuine GAA opinion is a precious commodity.

Paul Galvin wouldn’t go hunting microphones but the exceptions are exceptional. If he ever gets around to the warts ‘n’ all, expect Tommie Gorman to get the gig.

Intensity and a sense of indignation stoke Galvin. Too many people said he wasn’t good enough. Then, after proving them wrong, he lost the desperation that carried him to the summit.

Now he wants it back. Desperately.

“In 2004, I was full of blind energy, and that has its plusses too. But now I think I’m a more rounded player. Two years ago I was desperate to prove myself, and I played with that desperation.”

Some critics believe there’s still a whiff of sulphur about him, but Galvin won’t be shedding that razor’s edge mentality. He can’t afford to. Playing with Kerry means too much to let it go.

“I love playing with Kerry, love that jersey,” he says matter-of-factly.

And suddenly we’re careering headlong into the wreckage of last year’s All-Ireland final defeat to Tyrone — the last time the Kingdom played at Croke Park.

“I see guys like Seamo (Moynihan), Darragh, (Liam) Hassett and Crowley — I was on the terrace for the 2000 final, roaring at them. These guys are heroes and I’m playing with them now. That’s why it hurts to see them lose, great men brought down in Croke Park. It’s a hard thing to stomach.”

How bad? “A horrible feeling, a horrible couple of weeks afterwards.

“All-Ireland defeats affect everything. I was in Cork (where he works as a secondary teacher), and I didn’t even want to go out. Your confidence and self-esteem suffer, it was that bad.

“When you win everything is great, when you lose everything is shit. There’s such a difference. It’s that sick feeling, numbness. The dressing room was cold. It was stark. Back at the hotel, I just sat in my room for about an hour, wondering how could we lose.

“Everything was going so well, we’d prepared brilliantly. You just don’t contemplate defeat, that’s why it’s such a shock. It just hits you.”

Galvin palms himself between the eyes. As if emphasis was required.

He’s crammed a mini-series into two years of intercounty football — “things came too readily in 2004,” he agrees. An All-Ireland, All-Star, representing Ireland in the

International Rules, an All-Star trip; within months he was winning an All-Ireland junior club title with Finuge too.

“Then there comes a period when that desperation you had to succeed wanes a bit. That’s the real trick, that’s what makes the great players stand apart — Seamo, Darragh, Hassett, McGeeney, Donnellan and Joyce. They’re the top players because they’ve been there for a sustained period.”

Galvin’s always learning. A brief dalliance with eircom League champions Cork City forged a friendship with kindred spirit, George O’Callaghan, and gave him a taste of professional sport he still craves.

Suspended for 14 weeks from all GAA activity after a sending off in a North Kerry Championship game — “an interesting winter” — he spent the time re-evaluating his goals, his football and his friends.

“I learned you have to be selfish in this game, win as much as you can as often as you can. Take it when it’s there because there’s a lot of people out there ... let’s just say I learned who my friends were, and a lot about the people around me. It could have all gone — the Kerry career, the lot — and very quickly. I was very disillusioned and I very, very nearly walked away from it all.

“Cork City was interesting but it would have been very hard to turn my back on Kerry. I love playing with Kerry, it’s all I wanted to do as a youngster and I spent a good five years trying. I love that jersey.”

That February night at the Brehon Hotel when Jack O’Connor welcomed him back to the squad was a moment he enjoyed, but on the field, the circle of unity has not been as evident this season. Galvin bristles.

“There was one night where there was a bit of fisticuffs, and name me a county where that doesn’t happen. I don’t know why it’s happened this year but some people seem determined to pull the pin out of the grenade.

“I’ve had my few rows with fellas, but you laugh about it in the dressing room afterwards. We’re still a very close group — there’s 30 fellas in there and you’re bound to have tensions. If you didn’t have a squad member scrapping with a first team guy for his place, there’s something wrong.”

However, the dearth of desire evident against Cork will surely undermine Kerry’s efforts against Armagh today at Croke Park. The manner of the loss in Páirc Uí Chaoimh still aggravates Galvin.

“They probably deserved to win the first day (in Killarney). They out-fought us, and that’s the worst way to lose. They had that desperation. Now we’ve lost a chance to lift a trophy and I still don’t have a medal for 2006. It’s gone to one of the Cork lads.”

All the while, however, Galvin has been quietly reinventing himself. The catalyst for change, ironically, was Peter Canavan’s goal in the final last September, when the Kerry half forward found himself hopelessly cut adrift as the last line of defence.

“I learned a lot from that incident. Now I’m more conscious of attacking the opposition goal. I’m a forward after all, and there’s a danger you can become too much of a ground-hog around midfield.

Scoring 1-12 in the league and 0-6 in the championship underlines that. Galvin hasn’t been spending his time annoying Cork men and battling for midfield breaks.

However, he accepts there might be a lot of scuffing today.

“For me it’s a defining day, a huge game. If we lose, we’re fu***d.”

And he doesn’t just mean for 2006.

“A huge factor for the Kerry team this year is the experience we have lost — there is 13 of the 2004-winning squad gone — almost half the group. And that’s 11 All-Ireland medals gone in Crowley, Hassett, Kirby and Ó Cinneide. They’re fantastic players, real men, winners, and any team would miss them. They had their detractors but I could never understand it.

“Look at Ó Cinneide — who’s going to guarantee you five or six points every day? Also, (Liam) Hassett was great to me, he’d always have a few helpful words, even though we were competing for the same position. One day at training he was wearing the No 10 jersey and he turned to me saying ‘This is yours now, mind it’. You cannot replace experience. Now it’s a far younger group.”

In his third season Galvin clearly has more to offer in terms of experience, but it’ll never be a stroll down Easy Street.

“Wing forward is a hard graft the way football has gone. Teaching and the time off in the summer is a help, but you need that free time to get yourself right. The kids used laugh at me in (Críost Rí) school, stretching my calves and quads. But they take no notice of it now.”

Today’s quarter-final has been understandably hyped, but it’s still only a quarter-final. Defeat for Kerry will mean their earliest championship exit since 1999.

“We have faith in each other, and in Jack (O’Connor),” insists Galvin.

“I’ve learned a lot from him, small nuances, and things he sees. He talks about something and then it happens in a game, and you know you’ve got a good coach.

“On Saturday, we simply have to figure out a way to beat these fellas, and if we do, we’ll be hard to stop.”