I REMEMBER THE week leading up to my first championship squad being named with the Dubs.
I was a bundle of excitement. I was full of hope. I was nervous but I expected to make it to the bench.
For me the possibility that it couldn’t happen didn’t exist. A world where I had come in and was only third choice keeper was a nightmare I didn’t want to be.
My training regime had ramped up since January. I had spent a few hectic months training like a lunatic in the gym. I gained size and agility. I developed new muscles and was fine tuning the physicality of my anatomy. I was guzzling protein shakes and creatine like a new born suckling on mother’s milk. I had catching up to do.
When I worked, I worked. But just about. I was a manager in The Church, a new bar that had just opened in Dublin. I was busy but they were flexible and gave me the shifts I needed to train whenever I wanted. And when I wasn’t working, I trained with the squad. When I wasn’t with the squad, I was at the gym. When I wasn’t at the gym, I was down in empty GAA fields hoofing footballs over a bar on my own.
Obsession
I was obsessed. I was doing everything I could to make that squad. Nothing else really mattered. I had just moved in with my girlfriend at the time. She couldn’t take it. We spent a few months living separate lives in a swanky new apartment in Smithfield. In the end, she left. I came home one day for her to tell me she was leaving. She moved out and left me the following morning. There had been warning signs apparently.
But I still had the Dubs and that was all that mattered to me. I had the potential for making it onto Croke Park and that for me was more important than any relationship. It was more important than any job. It was more important than any cause or any career. I did not really care what happened to me aside from my progress with the Dubs.
And when that squad was announced prior to our first game and Pillar Caffrey read out my name as sub keeper…well, it justified everything. Everything had been worthwhile…All the sacrifice, the failed relationships, the half-arsed effort in work: I rationalised all these failures and knew that being named as sub keeper for the Dubs made everything worthwhile.
Transformation
I went to an event called “Warriors of the light” last Friday night in Dublin. It was hosted by Dubs footballer Kevin McManamon to raise awareness about depression and suicide. I got there early and met up with some current Dubs players who I knew from back in the day.
I asked them what the difference was from when I was involved. The biggest change, I was told, was that the team which won an All-Ireland under Pat Gilroy had removed all security for players. There was no longer an expectation to start in big games. When I was involved, you could pretty much name the starting team if everyone was fit. This had gone. And the current Dublin team is a more extreme version of this new model.
Nobody is guaranteed a start and players are picked on form and not reputation. There is a constant need to prove yourself. That is the biggest change I was told of. And I was speaking with lads who had all been dropped from the squad when I was there, only to return and go on to win All Irelands.
Maybe they had something to prove. Not only had they something to prove, but they were given the chance to do it. I was also told that they had gotten rid of the deadwood…the players who were just happy to be there.
I was dropped from the squad, I thought to myself…and I had been happy to be there.
No Regrets
As the night went on I got to listen to some inspiring speakers. Alan O’Mara and Conor Cusack shared their stories about battling against depression and suicidal thoughts. It was rejuvenating to hear people open up so candidly about their issues. I thought about how much things had changed in the few years I had been gone.
One thing which struck me was that they both mentioned how they invested all their self worth and identity into their success as a county player. I understood this. I had been there. Even though I only managed to get to the sub keeper position, I still took this as being a success.
- More from Lenny:
- Conor McGregor and the Irish Dream… whatever that is
- Carvery in Croker and the art of war
- I know the effect drugs have… but I wouldn’t have doped to be Dubs #1
When Michael Savage came in and ousted me from my spot, I fell apart.
Everything I had considered important in life unravelled like a pair of pantihose caught on a barbed wire fence. I could not face the reality of being in Ireland and not being with the Dubs. I fell back into heavy drinking and drug taking. Less than three months after being dropped from the squad; I was on a one way flight to Sydney, not to return for a long time.
The Moral of the Story
As our attention turns to summer dreaming and the limitless potential abounding, bear in mind that the sun goes on shining (or the rain goes on raining) no matter what happens. Don’t lose the plot if you lose your spot and don’t go baloobas if you make it. There is more to life.
Keep balanced. Keep amateur sport in perspective. I know how important it is when you are there. I know how much it means to succeed. But sacrificing career opportunities, relationships and all round happiness to try and achieve something which less than 1% of the population ever will, is not a recipe for success.
Believe me, I know…
- John Leonard’s trials on and off the pitch are best chronicled in his book Dub Sub Confidential –Setanta Sports Book of the Year Winner. These days he writes, speaks, makes documentary films and is the founder of Sober Paddy, Five Point Five and Travel Kids Club.
