THE EMOTIONS. Some 24 hours later and they are not nearly in check. And that’s just the rest of us, the people who can only imagine what it is like to be from Mayo today.
We might not feel it close to anything like the degree they do, but feel it we do. It’s a little like when the Chicago Cubs won the World Series in 2016 to end a 108-year wait.
Now, maybe you have watched a baseball game from start to finish at some point in your life. Maybe you’ve even been to Chicago. I have done neither, but don’t think you have to in order to feel something watching the fan videos that went around at the time.
It’s also a little like 2004, the year the Boston Red Sox beat the mighty New York Yankees to end an 86-year yearning for the World Series and kill off the Curse of Bambino. It all sounds familiar. And it is a bit like that. But only a bit.
This one is different because we were there every step and every stumble with Mayo.
We watched in 1989 as Anthony Finnerty blazed a shot across the face of the Cork goal and fans surged down the old Canal End steps, their celebration unfulfilled. That was the game, but they’d be back to win it soon.
Anthony Finnerty in the 1989 All-Ireland final against Cork. James Meehan / INPHO
James Meehan / INPHO / INPHO
Then there was 96, Colm Coyle’s kick which bounced over the bar for the equalising point. Freakish stuff. Brawls and the wrong man getting a red card in the replay.
Running into Maurice Fitzgerald the next year. Then 04 and 06 and punishing defeats to Kerry. The 2010s and Donegal and then perhaps the best of all Mayo teams, who had the luck to come up against the best team from anywhere, any time.
Still, they went blow-for-blow, came back from big deficits, suffered own goals, saw lads dragged to the ground for an endgame and had to take it all. Then Tyrone in 2021 and the emptiness that came with that defeat. Afterwards they did what they always did, and started again.
In a way we can relate to Mayo. We all know what it is to have a broken heart. We have all tried and failed. Most of us never reach whatever level of glory might be possible in our lives. So we can identify with a team that gets close but doesn’t get there.
Mayo, though, become less relatable in how they respond to defeat. Most teams, most people, go away. They reason quietly with themselves. We can put it all on the line again . . . but maybe we won’t. The pain was so great. The next time and the time after that we’ll stop at a certain point.
A phrase by American writer Erica Jong about these things could have been coined for Mayo. “Everyone has talent. What’s rare is the courage to follow it to the dark places where it leads.”
Maybe the son of a Mayo emigrant is more appropriate: “Get up off the floor and believe in life,” is the word according to Noel Gallagher. “No one’s ever gonna ever ask you twice.”
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The first time I left home on my own for more than a few days was 1996. The Leaving Cert completed, the bright lights of North West London awaited. We’d make a fortune as warehouse and hospitality temp workers! We’d meet people from all over the world! We met people from Achill, from Swinford, from townlands I’d never heard of before. Most of them had London accents, but regarded themselves as Mayo-Irish-London-English in that order.
“Stick out your chests and be proud to be from Mayo,” said Jack Coyne yesterday. Was it ever any other way?
Jack Coyne celebrates with his family. Ryan Byrne / INPHO
Ryan Byrne / INPHO / INPHO
You only truly appreciate how big Mayo is when you leave Ireland. The population of the county is nearly 138,000. The Mayo diaspora is estimated at 3.5 million, which seems conservative.
Anyone that’s ever travelled abroad has met at least 2.9 million of them. Generalisations are generally useless but I’ll ask for indulgence here.
The Mayo people you meet have stoic qualities, common across the rural west. There is a tacit acceptance that life can be hard. There won’t always be enough to go around, be that good land or jobs. So a lot leave. Some want to go, others would have rather stayed. Either way, you head off and do what you must to make it happen. In times of poverty or plenty, you persevere; you scheme and dream and graft in good humour. County Mayo, from Vancouver to Harrow, from Charlestown to Longsight, is filled with people who keep going.
Keeping the faith: A Mayo supporter in full voice. Ryan Byrne / INPHO
Ryan Byrne / INPHO / INPHO
The indomitable spirit gives us something to live up to. To see them get over the line yesterday was inspirational and affecting.
Sport, well, sometimes it can be a bit cruel. We’re told early on that it teaches us how to win and how to lose. Both are important, even if it feels that sometimes teams can get a bit too accustomed to one or the other. The older you get, the more inclined you are to feel sorry for the loser.
You’d need a heart the size and composition of a piece of gravel not to feel sad at the sight of Tipperary camogie players signing autographs for young fans while choking back tears after losing the semi-final on Saturday. For Tipp it was a 10th semi-final loss since 2006. Many of the players have lost time and again at this stage. To even the strongest of characters, it can seem like you are confined by destiny.
When Jordan Flynn palmed the ball onto the crossbar yesterday – a few inches north a point or lower a goal – it felt like the latest cruelty from the not-always-just sporting gods. This would be the moment that 2026 was reduced to when the next montage of Mayo grief was stitched together, the Chicago Cubs black cat of 1969 equivalent.
When Kerry cut into the lead with nerveless kicks from the brilliant Cliffords it seemed we were watching a film that had been scripted, not something playing out in real time that could take any course depending on the actions of the protagonists. Yet somehow, through willpower, mad endeavour, belief in technique and the often-lacking stroke of luck, the script got flipped.
Mayo had the ball, the ball was moving up the other end. Is Conroy going to square it to Kobe? Can Kerry get a goal in the next 16 seconds? I dunno … maybe … probably. It’s out by the sideline now. It’s nearly over. It’s over. It has been done.
A Mayo supporter at full-time. Tom Maher / INPHO
Tom Maher / INPHO / INPHO
This win does so much for so many. The aftershocks will be felt in teams far beyond the county line. We won’t be amazed to see names long absent winning club championships in the coming months, and dormant forces in the League of Ireland finding new life.
Mayo have shown everybody that you can beat what the world or your mind throws at you. That even in defeat there a passion for sport and for life that cannot be extinguished by any result. Stay going. Stay going and you can get a day like this.
A win, first, for Mayo people everywhere. Second, for all humanity.
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'Get up off the floor and believe in life' - A win for the Mayo people who kept going
THE EMOTIONS. Some 24 hours later and they are not nearly in check. And that’s just the rest of us, the people who can only imagine what it is like to be from Mayo today.
We might not feel it close to anything like the degree they do, but feel it we do. It’s a little like when the Chicago Cubs won the World Series in 2016 to end a 108-year wait.
Now, maybe you have watched a baseball game from start to finish at some point in your life. Maybe you’ve even been to Chicago. I have done neither, but don’t think you have to in order to feel something watching the fan videos that went around at the time.
It’s also a little like 2004, the year the Boston Red Sox beat the mighty New York Yankees to end an 86-year yearning for the World Series and kill off the Curse of Bambino. It all sounds familiar. And it is a bit like that. But only a bit.
This one is different because we were there every step and every stumble with Mayo.
We watched in 1989 as Anthony Finnerty blazed a shot across the face of the Cork goal and fans surged down the old Canal End steps, their celebration unfulfilled. That was the game, but they’d be back to win it soon.
Then there was 96, Colm Coyle’s kick which bounced over the bar for the equalising point. Freakish stuff. Brawls and the wrong man getting a red card in the replay.
Running into Maurice Fitzgerald the next year. Then 04 and 06 and punishing defeats to Kerry. The 2010s and Donegal and then perhaps the best of all Mayo teams, who had the luck to come up against the best team from anywhere, any time.
Still, they went blow-for-blow, came back from big deficits, suffered own goals, saw lads dragged to the ground for an endgame and had to take it all. Then Tyrone in 2021 and the emptiness that came with that defeat. Afterwards they did what they always did, and started again.
In a way we can relate to Mayo. We all know what it is to have a broken heart. We have all tried and failed. Most of us never reach whatever level of glory might be possible in our lives. So we can identify with a team that gets close but doesn’t get there.
Mayo, though, become less relatable in how they respond to defeat. Most teams, most people, go away. They reason quietly with themselves. We can put it all on the line again . . . but maybe we won’t. The pain was so great. The next time and the time after that we’ll stop at a certain point.
A phrase by American writer Erica Jong about these things could have been coined for Mayo. “Everyone has talent. What’s rare is the courage to follow it to the dark places where it leads.”
Maybe the son of a Mayo emigrant is more appropriate: “Get up off the floor and believe in life,” is the word according to Noel Gallagher. “No one’s ever gonna ever ask you twice.”
The first time I left home on my own for more than a few days was 1996. The Leaving Cert completed, the bright lights of North West London awaited. We’d make a fortune as warehouse and hospitality temp workers! We’d meet people from all over the world! We met people from Achill, from Swinford, from townlands I’d never heard of before. Most of them had London accents, but regarded themselves as Mayo-Irish-London-English in that order.
“Stick out your chests and be proud to be from Mayo,” said Jack Coyne yesterday. Was it ever any other way?
You only truly appreciate how big Mayo is when you leave Ireland. The population of the county is nearly 138,000. The Mayo diaspora is estimated at 3.5 million, which seems conservative.
Anyone that’s ever travelled abroad has met at least 2.9 million of them. Generalisations are generally useless but I’ll ask for indulgence here.
The Mayo people you meet have stoic qualities, common across the rural west. There is a tacit acceptance that life can be hard. There won’t always be enough to go around, be that good land or jobs. So a lot leave. Some want to go, others would have rather stayed. Either way, you head off and do what you must to make it happen. In times of poverty or plenty, you persevere; you scheme and dream and graft in good humour. County Mayo, from Vancouver to Harrow, from Charlestown to Longsight, is filled with people who keep going.
The indomitable spirit gives us something to live up to. To see them get over the line yesterday was inspirational and affecting.
Sport, well, sometimes it can be a bit cruel. We’re told early on that it teaches us how to win and how to lose. Both are important, even if it feels that sometimes teams can get a bit too accustomed to one or the other. The older you get, the more inclined you are to feel sorry for the loser.
You’d need a heart the size and composition of a piece of gravel not to feel sad at the sight of Tipperary camogie players signing autographs for young fans while choking back tears after losing the semi-final on Saturday. For Tipp it was a 10th semi-final loss since 2006. Many of the players have lost time and again at this stage. To even the strongest of characters, it can seem like you are confined by destiny.
When Jordan Flynn palmed the ball onto the crossbar yesterday – a few inches north a point or lower a goal – it felt like the latest cruelty from the not-always-just sporting gods. This would be the moment that 2026 was reduced to when the next montage of Mayo grief was stitched together, the Chicago Cubs black cat of 1969 equivalent.
When Kerry cut into the lead with nerveless kicks from the brilliant Cliffords it seemed we were watching a film that had been scripted, not something playing out in real time that could take any course depending on the actions of the protagonists. Yet somehow, through willpower, mad endeavour, belief in technique and the often-lacking stroke of luck, the script got flipped.
Mayo had the ball, the ball was moving up the other end. Is Conroy going to square it to Kobe? Can Kerry get a goal in the next 16 seconds? I dunno … maybe … probably. It’s out by the sideline now. It’s nearly over. It’s over. It has been done.
This win does so much for so many. The aftershocks will be felt in teams far beyond the county line. We won’t be amazed to see names long absent winning club championships in the coming months, and dormant forces in the League of Ireland finding new life.
Mayo have shown everybody that you can beat what the world or your mind throws at you. That even in defeat there a passion for sport and for life that cannot be extinguished by any result. Stay going. Stay going and you can get a day like this.
A win, first, for Mayo people everywhere. Second, for all humanity.
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column GAA Mayo GAA staying the course True colours