GLORY AND GRIEF make for the oddest of bedfellows, but this week in Donegal they have found a way to share the same space peacefully.
A football summer defined by the sound of a glass ceiling shattering, ends with Donegal hearts in pieces as news broke of the passing of James McHugh in a car accident on Monday afternoon.
Their thoughts, as is a nation’s, are with his family, with Kilcar and its tightknit community, and the boys of ‘92, who remain at the core of their identity.
There was so much more to his life, on and off the field, than an hour and a bit of football on a September afternoon 34 years ago, but if that became the lens through which those of us on the outside viewed him, it might offer only an obscured view but hardly a diminished one.
In fact, in many ways it serves to magnify what he was part of in a moment of time that changed everything for a county.
The Donegal bench in the closing stages of the 1992 All-Ireland final. Billy Stickland / INPHO
Billy Stickland / INPHO / INPHO
The years may have rolled by, but the impact has not faded; less than a handful of teams have followed them, Derry (1993), Armagh (2002) and Tyrone (2003) – the only other first time winners since, until a couple of weeks ago when Mayo showed that winning for a fourth time can better even winning it for a first.
The impact of that Donegal team might as well be lit up on neon lights at the top of Sliabh Liag.
This column comes from a place where only multiple champions are considered for wall space, one in a row winners, should anyone have the audacity to frame them for posterity, are left to become dust magnets in storage.
There is hardly a homestead in Donegal where you will not find some representation of them hanging, not so much under a sacred light in the good room, but in the hallways where the natural light eternally shines on.
It is a wall-mounted welcome mat; welcome to the homes of Donegal, did you hear about what we did in 1992?
Go into any ale house, or at least the ones without the gleaming chrome bars and gin menus, and their likeness will leap out from you from behind mounted pictures, wall mirrors, Sam Maguire shaped Belleek pottery, clock faces long past the stage of keeping time; when it came to merchandising, Manchester United’s commercial department are only in the h’penny place compared to the boys who sold fast and furious out of the boots of Ford Capris in the winter of ‘92.
And they don’t need to be seen to be remembered.
When Donegal won their second All-Ireland 20 years later, we caught the madness live.
It was everything we thought it might be, but not everything that it was 20 years earlier, we were repeatedly advised.
Back then, on the night of the homecoming, they ran out of beer in Donegal Town, the surface of the diamond the following morning was impassable, booby trapped by a carpet of broken pint glasses while some boys did not go back to work until after the October bank holiday weekend.
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Their recall may not always have been rooted in absolute truth, but it was sauced by such a potent sense of nostalgia, it might as well have been.
James McHugh gave them that. A gifted, clever footballer, to the outside world he was not even the star turn at his own breakfast table, never mind the team. He was Martin Beag’s brother, he was the Paudie to their David.
James McHugh.
His value was appreciated, his humility defining.
“If you didn’t know him and spent an hour talking to him, you would leave his company none the wiser that he was an All-Ireland champion,’ a neighbour told us this morning.
He was consumed by football, by Kilcar and by family.
His nephew, Mark was there in 2012, Ryan came up just short in 2014 and last year, while his own son, Eoin, spent more than a decade chasing hard what his father had achieved.
Mark McHugh celebrating Donegal's 2012 All-Ireland final win. Cathal Noonan / INPHO
Cathal Noonan / INPHO / INPHO
Without that team, it is hard to believe that Donegal would be where they are now.
Jim McGuinness shared that dressing with James McHugh and the boys of 1992, which gave him the belief that the road paved by that group could be travelled again by invoking that spirit.
That iconic photograph of the ‘92 captain Anthony Molloy with the baby-faced Michael Murphy neatly captured how one harvest can provide the seed to grow another.
Michael Murphy and Anthony Molloy after Donegal's 2012 All-Ireland final win. Cathal Noonan / INPHO
Cathal Noonan / INPHO / INPHO
This month, Jack Coyne, articulated the value that only break-through winners can access, when telling Mayo people to fill out their chests in the knowledge that the future was now theirs.
James McHugh and Donegal, without ever articulating that in words, did just that back in 1992.
Instead, Molloy settled for the iconic punch line, “Sam’s for the Hills.”
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James McHugh embodied the legacy of Donegal's class of '92 and what they mean to their county
GLORY AND GRIEF make for the oddest of bedfellows, but this week in Donegal they have found a way to share the same space peacefully.
A football summer defined by the sound of a glass ceiling shattering, ends with Donegal hearts in pieces as news broke of the passing of James McHugh in a car accident on Monday afternoon.
Their thoughts, as is a nation’s, are with his family, with Kilcar and its tightknit community, and the boys of ‘92, who remain at the core of their identity.
There was so much more to his life, on and off the field, than an hour and a bit of football on a September afternoon 34 years ago, but if that became the lens through which those of us on the outside viewed him, it might offer only an obscured view but hardly a diminished one.
In fact, in many ways it serves to magnify what he was part of in a moment of time that changed everything for a county.
The years may have rolled by, but the impact has not faded; less than a handful of teams have followed them, Derry (1993), Armagh (2002) and Tyrone (2003) – the only other first time winners since, until a couple of weeks ago when Mayo showed that winning for a fourth time can better even winning it for a first.
The impact of that Donegal team might as well be lit up on neon lights at the top of Sliabh Liag.
This column comes from a place where only multiple champions are considered for wall space, one in a row winners, should anyone have the audacity to frame them for posterity, are left to become dust magnets in storage.
There is hardly a homestead in Donegal where you will not find some representation of them hanging, not so much under a sacred light in the good room, but in the hallways where the natural light eternally shines on.
It is a wall-mounted welcome mat; welcome to the homes of Donegal, did you hear about what we did in 1992?
Go into any ale house, or at least the ones without the gleaming chrome bars and gin menus, and their likeness will leap out from you from behind mounted pictures, wall mirrors, Sam Maguire shaped Belleek pottery, clock faces long past the stage of keeping time; when it came to merchandising, Manchester United’s commercial department are only in the h’penny place compared to the boys who sold fast and furious out of the boots of Ford Capris in the winter of ‘92.
And they don’t need to be seen to be remembered.
When Donegal won their second All-Ireland 20 years later, we caught the madness live.
It was everything we thought it might be, but not everything that it was 20 years earlier, we were repeatedly advised.
Back then, on the night of the homecoming, they ran out of beer in Donegal Town, the surface of the diamond the following morning was impassable, booby trapped by a carpet of broken pint glasses while some boys did not go back to work until after the October bank holiday weekend.
Their recall may not always have been rooted in absolute truth, but it was sauced by such a potent sense of nostalgia, it might as well have been.
James McHugh gave them that. A gifted, clever footballer, to the outside world he was not even the star turn at his own breakfast table, never mind the team. He was Martin Beag’s brother, he was the Paudie to their David.
His value was appreciated, his humility defining.
“If you didn’t know him and spent an hour talking to him, you would leave his company none the wiser that he was an All-Ireland champion,’ a neighbour told us this morning.
He was consumed by football, by Kilcar and by family.
His nephew, Mark was there in 2012, Ryan came up just short in 2014 and last year, while his own son, Eoin, spent more than a decade chasing hard what his father had achieved.
Without that team, it is hard to believe that Donegal would be where they are now.
Jim McGuinness shared that dressing with James McHugh and the boys of 1992, which gave him the belief that the road paved by that group could be travelled again by invoking that spirit.
That iconic photograph of the ‘92 captain Anthony Molloy with the baby-faced Michael Murphy neatly captured how one harvest can provide the seed to grow another.
This month, Jack Coyne, articulated the value that only break-through winners can access, when telling Mayo people to fill out their chests in the knowledge that the future was now theirs.
James McHugh and Donegal, without ever articulating that in words, did just that back in 1992.
Instead, Molloy settled for the iconic punch line, “Sam’s for the Hills.”
Now, McHugh is for the heavens.
There is a lot of grief in that.
In time, the glory will shine through too.
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Donegal GAA James McHugh RIP none