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Derry vs Donegal (Preview)

 

I remember leaving the Creighton Hotel bar, in Clones, during extra-time of Ireland’s World Cup Second Round encounter against Spain back in 2002. Robbie Keane had done it again: a 90^th minute equaliser put another 30 minutes on the clock at a stage in which the Republic were beginning to dominate against the 10 man Spaniards. We, as a country, were headed towards one of the most exciting, nerve-racking moments in our sporting history. I, as an individual, was headed towards St. Tiernach’s Park on the unforgiving incline of Church Hill to take my unsheltered seat in miserable conditions.

I watched a tight, yet lifeless, match unfold before a meek 7,000 crowd through the pouring rain as Derry were sent packing by an underwhelming Donegal outfit. I remember the bangs on our umbrella from the classless west coast man behind us every time the magnificently overrated Brendan Devenney did anything of note. I remember the obscenities I directed towards him and his entire county (forgetting that half my family are from Tír Chonaill). I left, a broken man (I later heard that Ireland were defeated on penalties).

4 years later, I trekked to Monaghan for the same fixture to witness Muldoon, one of my favourite ever footballers, being provoked and scammed by a Donegal full back who would later go on to be my club manager (I don’t think I ever forgave him). The green and gold (a disgusting combination while we’re at it) netted with just their second score of the game and Derry failed to break the three point margin for the rest of the tie. I also remember the heartbreak of Ballybofey just two years ago when young Enda Lynn missed a sure-fire opportunity to tie the game with the last kick in extra time.

Having read Gaelic Life’s Ronan Scott recently write about how Derry men recall only fond memories of Donegal beaches and pleasantries, I couldn’t help but think how wide of the posts he really was.

Of course, we all love a trip to Donegal – its coastline is one of the best in the world. And, sure, I like a holiday there as much as the next man – heck, I was there yesterday catching sunrays in the Atlantic Ocean off Ballyliffin. I love its scenery, its air, its atmosphere – and I can just about put up with my Donegal mother. But when it comes to football, these things don’t cross my mind – not even for a second. And when writers claim that these things will hinder the motivation of athletes much greater than myself, then there is something truly naïve about that.

Just like an Irish man who has holidayed in the beautiful Cornwall won’t have his motivation to beat England deterred; just like the English natives who can recall fond memories of Highland excursions won’t care less about dominating Scotland; just like the Crossmaglen family who visit Portaferry won’t surrender any easier to County Down, when it comes to sport, when it comes to Gaelic Football, we are at war and we care only for ourselves.

Those Ulster Semi Final defeats hurt – they hurt badly. Leaving Donegal with our tails between our legs in the latest Championship clash between the two counties was hard to take. Watching Daniel O’Donnel-county stroll to victory in Celtic Park this year, as if they had perfected an unbeatable formula, was unacceptable. And it is these aspects, on top of a simple longing for my own county to succeed, are what fuel the flame of desire to knock Karl Lacey back to the corner where he belongs; to treat Paul Durkan with the lack of respect in which he merits; to expose Anthony Thompson for the clumsy hellion that he is; to see how Kevin Cassidy can cope when he is on the back foot; if Rory Kavanagh has the stomach for it; to bring Colm McFadden down a peg or five; and to reinstate the belief that electing Michael Murphy as county captain at 21 was typical of Donegal to buy into the hype and set themselves up for a downfall.

Not withstanding the fact that Derry will line out on Sunday with McGuckin shielding the goals, Muldoon roaming midfield, and Deets continuing to terrorise up front – a Ballinderry-inspired spine, a solid core, a winning mentality. Men who don’t give a single thought to their childhood holidays, to their Donegal associations, when they step onto a football pitch – because their only objective as sportsmen on Sunday, like it has been for over 20 years now, is to win a game of football. Mark Lynch won’t run any less aggressively because he might have visited Buncranna once or twice; Gerard O’Kane, an All-Ireland minor and Hogan Cup winning captain, won’t lead from the back less ruthlessly because he may have spent a few nights in Bundoran; to say these men would have been better to play Tyrone because they would be more “up for it”, because they have fond thoughts about the north west of Ireland, is to disrespect them as footballers, to undermine them as winners, on every level.

Besides, this is an Ulster Final for crying out loud. It wouldn’t matter if Bellaghy were taking on Ballinderry, if Boca were playing River Plate, the primary motivation of any team is to walk away with Championship success regardless of who they are playing and that, alone, will ensure that the intensity and fire of this encounter will be as maxed and heated as the most fuel-filled derby you can imagine.

Bradleys

At first, I felt sorry for myself. I couldn’t believe that the first time in over a decade we have reached a provincial final and we are without the services of two of the most prolific forwards in the country. The problem of replacing Paddy seemed to go miraculously smoothly, but then we are faced with the gauntlet of preparing for life-after-Eoin as the man who effortlessly tallied 1-05 from play in an Ulster Semi-Final (this feat should in no way be understated) suffered a heartbreaking knee injury at the weekend. Then I realised that two of the players – Paddy in particular – who have provided years of service, endless reels of joy, and floods of sweat for their county – and they done it all in the face of blanket defences, in the cruelties of being double marked, pin-pointed, pulled, harried, punched, dragged – won’t get the opportunity to play on this stage on the 17^th July, and they won’t get the opportunity to collect Championship silverware for the first time in county colours.

Replacing the Bradleys: Impossible. Winning without them: Doable.

All the talk seems to be aimed at who is coming off the bench to replace the Glenuilin sharp-shooter. Will Emmet McGuckin get the nod? Could the lively Decky Mullan be recalled once more? The favourite tag seems to reside with Lavey’s Cailean O’Boyle who could come in and out of full-forward more naturally than the other two.

But, for me, the solution is simple. Gerard O’Kane is back and raring to go and should be included without hesitation. Introducing the former skipper into the back line would allow Sean Leo McGoldrick to be freed from his defensive duties (granted that Brennan uses Ciaran Mullan and not Gerard to replace McAlary from the starting 15). Why don’t we utilise Sean Leo in the half forward line where he has been in devastating form this year, where he forced the first half substitution of Conor Gormley, where he wants to be played; and then opt for Mark Lynch at the edge of the square?

Yes, Lynch had an absolute stormer the last day; allowed to roam the half forward line, running from deep and playing delightful balls in front of our full forwards. But he was also inside for periods of the game and whichever position he is selected in, he is still Mark Lynch. The Banagher man’s quality is the only one which can be deemed worthy to fill Skinner’s void.

Blanket Defence

If I was to pick on the Gaelic Life writers even further, I would point to the fact that some of them explained that Derry would find it more difficult against Donegal than they would Tyrone because of the numbers the Ballybofey men get behind the ball. But don’t Brian Dooher and Peter Harte pop up on the 13 yard line for Tyrone? Doesn’t McGuigan come deep? Hughes, Penrose, Cavanagh? Tyrone have mastered that system long before any of us copped on and they used this to their advantage claiming three All-Ireland titles in just 6 campaigns. Besides, this is 2011, and every player in Ireland has, at some stage, come against a “blanket defence”.

Experts say you need to kick long range scores – like I seen Philip Jordan, Davy Harte and Sean Cavanagh all do in the Semi-Final against Donegal – that’s fine, we have Lynch, Muldoon, Charlie and James Kielt: next.

Anyone who watched the Tyrone semi will easily agree that the reigning Ulster champions kicked themselves out of the game. Peter Harte missed a handful of routine free kicks and some of the open play chances which went wasted were incredible. I honestly was gobsmacked when Donegal grabbed those two timely goals that they so desperately, desperately needed because they should have been dead and buried. Indeed, it was only in the last ten minutes that the Dún na nGall defence looked strong when a tired and frantic Tyrone outfit foolishly started running the ball into the fleets of gold and green – playing right into their hands.

The ball must go in early or you can forget about attacking at all. This can come from direct runners once the ball is turned over and when you consider the likes of Diver, Lynch and hopefully Sean Leo, we’re laughing. More importantly though, for large periods of the game, there will be only a small window through which Derry can score – a timed phase to work a score before the numbers flock back and the window closes. With some of the best long range passers in the province in Gerard, the Kielts, Muldoon and Gilligan, this window can be opened to Derry much more times than Donegal would like.

And with a vibrant attack who have enough creativity to mix things up, a strong midfield and a tight defence, the Oak Leaf county have enough artillery to paralyse their wanderlust neighbours, overcome injuries and defy history. Derry can finally put to bed this myth of Donegal’s “system”. They can finally show the rest of the country, in the absence of some recent legends, what a ridiculously talented county we are. They can leave Clones on Sunday as the first Derry team to deliver Championship success in this millennium – and in doing so, leave behind a lasting legacy.

Skinned & Lynched

Shame on me.

Just two days ago I spoke on our second podcast discussing why I couldn’t see anything other than an Armagh victory today at Clones. Our defence was weak; our key players were missing; Armagh had just too much in the tank for our relatively inexperienced outfit.

Shame on me.

I spoke volumes about this Armagh team. Charlie Vernon, Jamie Clarke, Steve McDonnell’s superlatives had bells hanging off them. What about the aptitude of Ciaran McKeever, Aaron Kernan, Andy Mallon? Need I go on?

Shame on me.

Because what I did briefly brush over, rather abruptly and disrespectfully in hindsight, was that Derry’s forward line had potential to hurt the Orchard county. And boy, did they wreck havoc today amongst the opposition backs in monstrous proportions.

Yes, the Oak Leafers still had a few problems in defence, as expected. Giving young and, for me, still unproven corner back Brian Óg McAlary the task of marking Jamie Clarke was particularly baffling. The Kilrea back works hard and no one can doubt his commitment to the cause. But, unfortunately, any time I have seen him, he has always proven too light, too loose and too rash to be playing in his county’s last line of defence. But I’ll give John Brennan a break this time – a nine point victory speaks for itself.

Besides, the selection policy of the boss, apart from that one glitch which was rectified with a first half substitution anyway, was undoubtedly on the money – so much so that odds-on favourites, Armagh, seemed less lucrative by the second. Throughout the week, we had heard speculation of a possible Kevin McGuckin return to the starting line up. I backed this idea but, again, said that I couldn’t see it happen because he hadn’t played all year. I had also spoken of my desire to see the inclusion of James Kielt back in Derry’s 15 – the reality of it too easily dismissed in our podcast. Thankfully, however, in John Brennan, Derry have a manager who has been there and done it. They have a leader who will not shirk the responsibility of making the big decisions. They have a winner. And by reinstating Ballinderry’s corner back ahead of former Allstar Kevin McCloy; by recalling James Kielt’s thunderous left foot ahead of O’Boyle, Brennan made some bold and uncompromising moves which demonstrated that he too believes that there is no substitute for quality – and moves which paid rich dividends in his debut year as county manager.

Admittedly, I shamefully underestimated a manager whose appointment I rejoiced for. I undervalued a man who has won senior championships with 5 different clubs. Admittedly, I got it wrong. But having spent the last 13 years arguing blindly with anyone who would listen that Derry had talented individuals equivalent to some of the top counties, maybe I was just finally broken. Maybe I had cracked. Maybe I had given up like the rest of Derry whose loss of faith was all-too-evident in the thousands upon thousands of empty seats at St. Tiernach’s Park. But the team hadn’t.

And what was to unfold before my own disbelieving eyes for 70 glorious minutes was nothing short of a massacre.

From the outset, I didn’t like Armagh’s approach. I think the 2002 All-Ireland champions like to think that they are ahead of the game. They are usually the most physically tough team in the country – strong and robust. They are always amongst the fittest. And their psychological preparation has reportedly been perfected long before other counties even copped on. But strolling out of the tunnel - their shoulders back, their heads high – towards their pre-match photograph, they looked lacklustre. I spoke with a native who explained that this was all part of a new psychological routine of confidence and identity building. They are to walk from the tunnel, as opposed to run, to portray an alpha-male conviction. That this was their territory (even it was Monaghan) and they, the jungle cats, ruled. If this was the notion they were going for, then I recommend that they part ways with their psychologist rapidly - because their attempts to relay domineering confidence got mixed up somewhere along with casual lethargy. And things never picked up from there in their final pre-match preparations as the orange jerseys engaged in some static stretching (bizarrely before exercise) and lots of chit-chat whilst their opposite numbers built progressively towards match intensity. There is a very, very fine line between confidence and cockiness and, to their detriment, Armagh went wandering too much today.

(Another thought: Whoever decided not to deploy a sweeper in front of Eoin "Skinner" Bradley and his deadly allies today - not just from the beginning, but as the game wore on and the damaged worsened - needs to take a long hard, look at themselves. Brilliant, the media now say that they didn't witness "puke football", but to leave 40 and 50 yards of space in front of Bradley and Lynch for 70 minutes is catastrophically naive)

The most pleasing aspect of my home team’s first championship semi final victory in 11 years was that after all those arguments I have had down through the years, all those times where I’ve seen baffled faces gaze back at me, after all those friends that I have lost, I finally gained some reassurance that I wasn’t crazy. Of course we have some of the most talented footballers in Ireland being produced up north. Of course our club championship is, in fact, one of the most competitive in the country. Of course the Bradley brothers, Mark Lynch, Muldoon, McGuckin and all those other relative legends down through the last decade are as good as I say. Because, today, a Derry team minus Paddy Bradley, without the services of Gerard and Joe O’Kane, without Fergal Doherty, Patsy Bradley, Johnny Bradley, Paul Cartin, and Colin Devlin, with so many question marks at the back and in midfield, went to Clones and beat the 2008 champions by almost double figures in a semi final fixture – and, for that, my faith has been restored in the ability of those willing to trudge to Owenbeg on dreary midweek nights.

My one saving grace prior to Sunday was that I did, at least, remark of the strength in our forward line and I said, “a puncher always has a chance”. Okay, I didn’t consider that we had cast-iron, heavyweight punchers capable of delivering killer blows whenever they fancied. I didn’t even deem goalkeeper, Danny Devlin, worthy of a starting spot yet he went on to produce two outstanding saves – one of which was a game-saver which prevented Armagh from closing the gap to one point and, incidentally, we went straight up and opened the lead to 7. (I think we’re running out of egg for my face) And I didn’t show enough belief in our midfield pairing who provided the remarkably efficient platform from which we launched our attacks and kept the ball away from our sometimes shaky defence. Michael Friel stepped up abundantly as the opposition 8 and 9 failed to cope with his physicality in the centre and he, along with Charlie Kielt at centre back, hoovered up and dispensed of breaking balls like they were going out of fashion. Joe Diver was Joe Diver. Hungry, explosive, energetic – a complete nuisance.

And, for once, I am proud to say that the forward line were like… well, they were like Derry players. Quick, slick, direct, devoid of any respect for their trailing defenders, and oh so deadly. Brennan yet again answered my prayers by pulling Muldoon from the full forward line to the midfield and the most naturally gifted footballer in Balinderry was absolutely delicious. Pass after pass, left foot to right foot, Enda Muldoon was, for me, Derry’s man of the match through which the entire team prospered from his evergreen heartbeat. Of course, having the luxury of picking out Mark Lynch, who won every single ball without fail, and Eoin Bradley, who once again scored a ridiculous return of 1-05 (yet not that big a deal is ever made of it is there? Because he is a Bradley after all), Muldoon was a hunter in an open forest of defenceless deer. Lynch and Bradley demonstrated everything there is to showcase for a modern day forward. The pair were out in front at will (out in front of 3 or 4 different markers, each), they twisted and turned as they pleased, they ran when they wanted, they scored off either foot and, along with Conleth Gilligan who roamed devastatingly in and out of the full forward line, produced 3 goals that a would-be sports writer has run out of superlatives and synonyms to do them justice.

Call me over-the-top, call me premature, call me a dreamer. But the beauty of today was that an apparently under-strength Derry side, a supposedly inexperienced manager, a declining fan base, went to Clones and reminded themselves and everyone around them that there is still greatness at either side of the Glenshane pass. They restored the mass faith in the underdog story but, in doing so, restored a sense that this county is not an underdog at all… not by any stretch.