I’M QUITE SUPERSTITIOUS on the night before an All-Ireland final – or any big game for that matter.
This year, I went to the gym, a few weights and pucking a ball against the wall, getting my head focused.
There’s a physio on hand for a rubdown and a stretch but going to Mass is one of the key items on the agenda.
Here’s a good story before one game. I didn’t know there was a football final in progress at Nowlan Park and my car was blocked in. ‘Ah feck sake, I have to go Mass, lads!’ I was panicking and the car blocking me was the referee’s!
I had to go into Nowlan Park, stop the game and get the keys off the ref and move his car! I couldn’t miss Mass.
After Mass, it’s home for pasta and chicken. I’d sleep well and I’m big into visualisation, what I’m going to do on the field.
So, as I’m nodding off, I’m imagining what I’m going to do on the field the next day, visualising the man I’m marking.
It might take me two hours to get to sleep but I do and I wake, nervous.
I would suffer with nerves but not too much, a small bit.
The family leave earlier than me to make the trip to Dublin and they come into the bedroom, wishing me the best of luck.
It’s over to me and my younger brother Richie, then. He’s also on the panel and we’re left in the house by ourselves, getting our gearbags ready.
We’d have half of it done the night before. Now it’s time to make sure that we have togs, socks, all the right stuff, grips, boots, glove.
You’d be on the bus wondering if you forgot something, the worst feeling ever.
Before one game, I forgot my glove. I was searching frantically through my bag. ‘I can’t play, lads!’
But thankfully, our kitman, Rackard Cody, had a spare glove.
Time for breakfast then and it’s the same as always – porridge, eggs, tea. It takes a little bit longer to eat on the morning of the match because you’re thinking about what lies ahead.
I’d go for a few pucks then with Richie, before getting a lift into town. We park outside Langton’s Hotel and it hits me then – it’s All-Ireland final day.
I throw my gear into the bus and Rackard dishes out the supplies – water, biscuits, whatever we need.
On the bus, some guys have their earphones on, others are chatting, joking and messing.
I’d fall into the latter category. I’ve graduated to the back seats of the bus now.
Richie Hogan and myself have been sitting together since 2007 but we’re in the back now, along with Richie Power and Eoin Larkin.
Everybody has their own seat on the bus. If a newcomer starts off in the League, he might take your spot but he gets a gentle reminder to hop it!
You’d be thinking about the game but having a chat with the other lads. Others are listening to music, some are asleep.
We reach the Crowne Plaza hotel and it’s lunchtime. Some lads drink soup, some don’t. Sandwiches, jaffa cakes, yoghurts, whatever you need again.
Again, the nerves are kicking in, thinking about the game, but the Crowne Plaza have a nice outdoor area and we puck a few balls around.
The minor game would be on at this time, too, and some of the lads would watch that on the TV.
On the bus to Croke Park, the messing stops and lads tune in. The Garda escort brings a sense of ‘right lads, we’re here’ and the adrenaline really kicks in now.
Earplugs are in for the last 15 minutes, and the favourite tunes go on. ‘Eye of the Tiger’ for me, Transformers theme tune and that Script tune, with Will.I.am. How does it go?
‘You can be the champion….’ Hall of Fame, that’s the one. Anything with an upbeat tempo to it. Close to Croke Park, I play the famous speech from ‘Any Given Sunday’, Al Pacino’s one.
You see the crowd, Kilkenny supporters and the opposition, shouting and laughing!
As the coach arrives under the Hogan Stand, the camera crews are waiting for us. You’re focused now, head concentrating on getting the gearbag, hurls and into the dressing room.
Things are a bit more relaxed then, because we’re here. You can do your own thing. Some lads go for a few pucks in the warm-up area, others are leafing through the matchday programme. Some head out to take in some of the minor game.
Soon, it’s time to tog out and the physios are in. In the warm-up area, lads are stretching, working on their core, beating the ball off the wall, talking to each other, communicating.
After togging out, the temperature rises and things are upbeat. Brian’s voice is raised, others too. There’s a ten-minute warm-up in that warm-up area and players speak, Brian speaks. Into the huddle and away we go. Showtime.
On that pitch, I take a glimpse of Croke Park, take in the crowd, the noise, and adrenaline kicks in. It’s total focus on the warm-up drills on the pitch, making sure I’m getting my second breath because with so much nerves and adrenaline, you could be thinking ‘I’m not fit’ after ten minutes, if that second breath isn’t there.
But after collecting those first one or two balls during the game, you feel you’re going to have a good one.
Hopefully it’s good news at half-time. In the dressing room, heads are down. This year, each player knew that we didn’t hurl, that we didn’t get going. We knew ourselves. We were looking around for Richie Hogan to do something, Mick Fennelly to do something.
Jackie Tyrrell spoke because he was up in the stand looking down on us. It’s always good to have a perspective like that because he can see everything. When you’re playing, it’s hard to see what’s going on because you’re concentrating on your own game.
In the first half, I knew I didn’t get going so I promised to put my head down and get on that breaking ball when we got back out there. That’s what I did.
Jackie spoke the truth, he spoke with anger, passion. Jackie doesn’t usually talk because he’s getting his own game focused and worrying about himself but he was injured, unable to play.
He saw that we were so close to losing but we had an extra gear there and we knew it. I just spoke about tempo, being bullied on breaking ball, on the ball. That’s not what we stand for, we stand for bullying the opposition, winning breaking ball. Our hooks and blocks were down, our tackles were down. Our physicality was down.
Jackie let all that out there and said that if we didn’t step it up, Andy Smith would be up collecting that cup, and we don’t want that. It was the truth.
In other games, you might be hurling so well and it’s not happening for you but we were hurling poorly and deep down, we knew there was an extra gear there.
It reminds me of some of our training sessions, maybe after coming back from the club, and Brian would stop a training match after two minutes and eat the heads off us. ‘Lads, this is diabolical, useless.’ After that, the attitude goes through the roof, pinging.
So after half-time here, we go through the roof in the second half. Standards up and that’s what happened.
After the game, it was ‘yes, we’ve done it, I’ve done it.’ Cillian Buckley ran to me but the energy is so zapped out of me that it’s almost difficult to celebrate. My legs are gone, my voice is gone, my breath is gone. Jumping around the field now is nearly worse than playing in the game. I’m totally drained.
Getting clapped on the back is worse now than a belt in the game. My body is cold now and lads are hitting me. ‘Jaysus, will you stop!’ But the excitement is unreal and after Joey Holden lifts the cup, we parade around the field with the Liam MacCarthy Cup.
I see my friends and family in the stands, waving at me. Down to Hill 16 and having the craic. In the dressing room, the cup is in the middle of the floor and we stand in a circle around it.
The county board chairman, Ned Quinn, is singing the ‘Rose of Mooncoin.’ Rackard is singing too. I just want to sit down now, take a deep breath and take it all in.
We look into the eyes of our teammates, and smile. ‘Well done.’ That’s what it’s all about.
After the showers, it’s down to the players’ lounge for that first pint. ‘This is what it’s all about.’ We’ve been off the drink for so long, this is going to be great!
John Delaney, the FAI Chief Executive, was there. He was more excited than us! He’s very friendly with Eoin Larkin and Paul Murphy. He got on the bus with the cup and we started singing a few songs with John.
On that bus, after having a couple of drinks, the craic and the sing-song is going, getting louder. We hit the Citywest Hotel and the Kilkenny crowd is there to greet us, cheering, shouting.
Walking up the stairs in Citywest is unbelievable. Those feelings, I’ll always remember. We get changed for the victory banquet and drinking that drink again, with a smile on your face, is incredible. The best thing of all is that we have no regrets.
Good fun.
