The Trib

by David Kenny

  The CCC could never have said ‘boo’ to the Meath team or any member of the team, and any question of Joe Sheridan acting in a malicious or disgraceful manner by scoring the winning goal would be laughed out of the GAA’s court or any other court in the land. Sheridan acted spontaneously and instinctively, and properly for a forward, and should never have to explain himself or his actions to anyone.

  And, if there had been a replay?

  Who’d have won it? That is an insensitive question to ask but let’s ask it all the same.

  In a replay, in my opinion, the odds would have swung back heavily in Meath’s favour. They had vastly underperformed in winning and they would have fully realised that they needed to make a giant-sized statement in the replay. Would this Louth team have been able to stand up to the massive pressure of a replay and a pumped-up, more intent Meath team? I don’t think so.

  Any other county in Ireland wondering why they can never win anything, should look at the work in Monaghan and Sligo as very helpful on their road maps to success. Sligo’s greatest danger this afternoon against Roscommon is that one or two of their players might be thinking that with all of the hardest work done – in beating Mayo and Galway – that the county’s name is already on the Connacht trophy. But Kevin Walsh will be reminding everyone in his dressing-room that any Sunday of the year Sligo would have trouble defeating Roscommon.

  Everyone wants to see Sligo coming to Croke Park as Connacht champions, and if they can do so and play with the same stylish and aggressive manner in which they have performed for the last two months, then they will be a threat to anyone.

  Seamus McEnaney’s Monaghan are also real, live contenders for the All-Ireland title this year, but it remains to be seen what sort of condition the team will be in, mentally and physically, at the finish of this afternoon’s Ulster final against Tyrone. If Monaghan keep a calm head, and play their own game, they can win the Ulster title.

  Tyrone have not really broken sweat so far this summer. Despite the team’s normal run of unfortunate injuries, which continues today with the omission of Stephen O’Neill from the starting fifteen, it’s all been smooth enough sailing for Mickey Harte and his back-room team. Tyrone, on the surface of it, look the smartest of co-favourites, with Kerry, for the All-Ireland title.

  The big question that might be answered between now and then, however, and the question that McEnaney will be willing his team to deliver this afternoon, is have Tyrone the hunger left in them if they’re backed up against a wall?

  The answer will decide whether Monaghan are Ulster champions this evening.

  Will Kerry folk now admit this team was good but not great?

  28 September 2008

  The madness has ended, thankfully. I even became infected myself these past few weeks, and at one stage this column was seriously contemplating Kerry winning the 2008 All-Ireland final by anything between five and ten points. I honestly felt that after throwing themselves into the championship in a disorganized and unruly but fiercely powerful manner that Pat O’Shea and the more elderly gentlemen around him would calm their team and help extract one complete, almost error-free performance from the defending champions.

  Genuinely, I felt that after getting so many things wrong in so many games all through the summer, this Kerry team would have the guts and the balls – and most especially the headspace – to not only take Tyrone but to take them in a commanding enough stride.

  But, hey, this Kerry team just continues to disappoint me. For the last twelve months I have been explaining that this bunch of Kerry footballers should not be mentioned in the same breath as the Kerry football team of the late 1970s and does not even stand up in serious comparison to the Kerry football team of the early 1980s. They are on a par with Kerry teams of the 1990s, which means they are mediocre-to-good by their own county’s rich standards.

  Last Sunday, Kerry came agonisingly close to claiming a hattrick of All-Ireland titles. If Declan O’Sullivan’s late shot had zipped beneath Pascal McConnell, or if the ball had ricocheted or spun inside the post, Tyrone would have had trouble even trying to make a draw of it. Let’s make that clear. Kerry’s performance was almost good enough on the day.

  And, if they had, all of the journalists I know – friends, young fools, the more senile members of the press gang – would have been throwing bigger and fancier bouquets than in seasons past upon their latest victory. Same as they are all getting carried away right now with Tyrone’s very exciting performance. The country’s GAA journalists continue to disappoint me too, I’ve got to admit.

  What we got last Sunday was Gaelic football’s greatest living coach beating Pat O’Shea by – let’s use a Ryder Cup singles score-card, for the day that was in it – something like seven and six, or eight and seven. And, on the field, we got a Tyrone team sensibly, calmly, ferociously, going about their business in a daringly confident manner, and still only barely edging their way to victory over a leaderless Kerry team, which was also critically short of guts and balls and other necessary items for most of the second-half.

  Tyrone deserved their victory. Harte, more than any Tyrone man, fully deserved his third All-Ireland title of the decade. The manager and his team should not have had to endure the ridiculous line of questioning about their verbal taunting of their opponents. Neither should Harte and his heroic players have had to listen to nonsense about their sensitivity, and sometimes blatant over-reaction, to the slightest sign of Kerry aggression.

  When any team performs so close to 100 per cent of its ability, on the biggest stage of all, on the final day of the season, all we should say is ‘Thank you’. What a treat it was. The verbals and the playacting, while they’re not all that nice to watch, have been ingrained in Gaelic football since I first got up onto my two feet and made my way to the nearest GAA field.

  Tyrone are All-Ireland champs and Tyrone are a nice, ordinary enough team. The team’s specialness is really apparent in two individuals, Brian Dooher and Seán Cavanagh – and, to the latter, I would like to officially say that I will never, ever, ever again ask when is Seán Cavanagh going to formally start the second-half of his career. Cavanagh’s ball-winning ability, movement and speed, and his incredible scoring power, has single-handedly made this championship memorable and, perhaps, has also spelled the end for this ever-so-wasteful figary of putting in a beanpole or a basketball player at full-forward on every second county team. We had Jack O’Connor’s desperation of three years ago to thank for that blight on the game which, thankfully, might now come to an immediate end thanks to Harte’s more creative instinct to place the most all-round talented footballer he has available to him in the number fourteen jersey.

  Now that the All-Ireland final has, definitively, put an end to my little dispute with Kerry folk about the general health of the county, I am not looking to commence an angry discussion with the people of Tyrone. But just because they are champions does not mean they are a brilliant team. Also, with one summer still to go this decade, it’s a little premature to name them as the Team of the Decade – Kerry are still one title ahead since the commencement of the new millennium, with one championship still to be contested.

  Tyrone went from average to good to superb this summer. But now, seven days after their great victory, we just know that they will have to struggle and battle and doggedly find their way out of the pack of teams which go to the start line for the 2009 All-Ireland Championship. In their own way, that makes them magical.

  Although we know that Cavanagh, Dooher and Conor Gormley will be every bit as strong and consistent over the next twelve months, there’s no sure thing that we will see the two McMahon boys forming a breathtaking pairing in the full-back line ever again. Philip Jordan and Davy Harte will remain in the wing-back roles – and remain compulsive viewing in doing so – but up front, all around Cavanagh, nobody has any idea who will play where, or what Mickey Harte will even be thinking. It’s mad really, and it’s amazing. If Tyrone were dumped, fast and unceremoni
ously in 2009, we wouldn’t be at all terribly surprised either.

  Seán Cavanagh will win Footballer of the Year, that’s for sure, although personally I’d give it to Dooher. He made mistakes last Sunday, he looked slow and ponderous at times, got dispossessed or lost possession several times, but not one Tyrone footballer ever took their eyes off their captain, and their captain never once looked over his shoulder. Dooher led. Cavanagh and the others followed. The only adequate thank you from the Tyrone team and from the country to Brian Dooher is this one final, great reward.

  Meanwhile, this time last year, I warned Kerry folk, as they were still running around the place making a lot of noise, that in years to come they would look back on the All-Ireland victories in 2004, and 2006 and 2007, and that they would in hindsight consider those finals to be somewhat unsatisfactory, if not quite hollow.

  Twelve months later, how are Kerry folk feeling now?

  MIGUEL DELANEY

  Only by winning in style will Spain be seen as the true masters of the beautiful game

  11 July 2010

  Stroll around Spain’s training camp in Potchefstroom, as surprisingly relaxed security allows you to do, and you certainly wouldn’t get the feeling a World Cup final is at stake. For a start, despite the money the players earn, the Fanni Du Toit centre – about 100 km and a 100-million-Rand investment away from Soccer City – isn’t too much of a step-up from a school sports ground.

  The grass is yellowed and dried from the sun, the brown 1970s-decor walls only missing lesson timetables. And, appropriately, it’s filled with children. Some screaming as Sergio Ramos ambles by, some attempting to high-five Carles Puyol. Over one fence then, left-back Joan Capdevila tells a group of reporters he’s relaxing by watching DVD box-sets like Fringe and joking that his son is named Gerard ... ‘after his father’. Over another, David Villa absent-mindedly asks who it was that asked for a photo.

  Such ease is a long way from the anxiety that seemed to afflict the squad during and after the defeat to Switzerland. That Spain can become the first team to win the World Cup having lost their opening game is testament to their mental resilience and evolution throughout this tournament. But not necessarily, according to a growing argument, their ability to exhilarate. It was a related point that led that air of relaxation to be broken by a hint of genuine rage during the week.

  ‘What did people think?’ Xavi asked El Pais’s interviewer in frustration. ‘That we were going to win every game 3-0? I can’t believe what I am hearing sometimes. Do you not realise how hard it is? Teams aren’t stupid. We’re European champions, they all pressure us like wolves. There isn’t a single metre, not a second on the pitch. Always ten men behind the ball putting pressure on.’

  It was an answer to a question over why Spain had struggled for fluidity throughout the World Cup – something they subsequently found in fairly definitive fashion against Germany. But it may well have been a response to the increasing voices that claim victory for Spain is no longer a victory for truly free football. That they’re exceptional without being exciting, closing out teams rather than really killing them, despite their undoubted quality. That, in short, their games are dull. Pass, pass, pass until someone passes out.

  That very debate, however, has brought a very bitter split among World Cup watchers in South Africa and beyond. The most common argument back is that anyone who says Spain games are dull simply doesn’t understand football. A number of commentators and coaches have rowed in on this side. But the most common counter-argument is that it’s not about understanding, it’s about visceral enjoyment.

  Hoping the numbers don’t lie, both sides have turned to stats. Not that you can stand either argument up too well on them. Spain have, predictably, played more passes per game – an average of 617 – than any side at a modern World Cup. But, remarkably, they’ve scored fewer goals – seven in six – than any previous finalist in history. That’s not what people expect from potential champions with such an array of attacking talent. They expect Brazil 1958, Brazil 1970, France 1984, or, of course, Spain 2008.

  Because, although the argument claiming Spain no longer excite isn’t one completely without credence, it does require quite a lot of context. Two years ago, in terms of capturing the imagination, Spain were the Germany 2010 of Euro 2008. They didn’t just control teams but caroused through them, scoring two a game and opening up opposition with some astoundingly sleek interchanges. The semi-final rout of Russia and final victory over Germany were two convincingly complete international displays.

  One of the factors, however, that helped forge such a watershed win was that Spain effectively caught sides by surprise. They had actually been just as exquisite two years beforehand in the 2006 World Cup. But the fact they were still growing as a group meant the more experienced French side exposed a few remaining flaws. By Euro 2008 and the benefit of an extra two years together, they had a level of club-like fluidity few opposition sides expected. That so many players were brought up together at Barcelona undoubtedly eased that evolution. And, with Spain then on a high after claiming Euro 2008, they carried such form into that relentless winning run. In the qualifiers for the World Cup, it shouldn’t be forgotten, they won all ten games and scored twenty-eight goals.

  Passage to the World Cup, however, also brought six months to prepare and pore over videos for everyone else. As Xavi explained and his club side Barcelona have also found, the vast majority concluded that the only way to counter such a team and stand any chance of success was simply to cut out all space near goal and deny them the opportunity to make any kind of angled interchanges in behind a bank of ten. Indeed, it’s a credit to Spain that Germany simply wouldn’t break with their usual abandon on Wednesday because they were too wary of leaving entire areas unpatrolled. All any team, no matter how talented, can do against such an approach is probe and probe and probe until an opening eventually presents itself. Even Brazil 1970. Still held as the high priests of attacking football, when re-watching their magnum opus on ESPN Classic recently it beggared belief just how much space that Italian team – themselves regarded as the culmination of catenaccio – offered up. Thanks to much greater physical and mental preparation, football today is much more regimented and militaristic in approach. Yet one man who successfully bridged the eras as captain then coach has defended Spain to the point of almost defying his nationality.

  ‘Spain’s football against a powerful Germany,’ Johan Cruyff argued during the week, ‘demonstrates their quality. They are a copy of Barcelona, the best advertisement of football. They play well, wanting to please and champion an offensive style. I am Dutch but I will always defend the football Spain play. The fact is that if you try to outplay them, they will kill you.’

  Cruyff’s defence of Spain goes even deeper though. His Ajax and Netherlands teams were acclaimed as the next step in attacking-football after Brazil, yet Total Football was above all about total control. Of the ball and space. Many mostly remember the Cruyff turn, his flying volley against Argentina or the flowing attack against West Germany. Few recall the fact that – just like David Villa’s solo strike against Honduras or Andres Iniesta’s piercing run to break Paraguay – these were isolated instances of inspiration amid long periods of passing and patience. Just as Spain forced Germany to chase for an average of 1.2 km more than they did and wore them out to the point Miroslav Klose complained, ‘When we did eventually win the ball we were so exhausted we couldn’t do anything with it.’ Both Ajax and the Netherlands broke teams through possession. Neither side had particularly spectacular scoring stats at the top level – less than two a game in the European and World Cups – and Ajax’s peak probably came in a 1-0 European Cup final win over Juventus that was only narrow in scoreline. Having commanded the same kind of lead in the 1974 World Cup final though, Cruyff’s international side went too far. Rather than simply beat West Germany, the Netherlands were so convinced of their own superiority they sought the chance to completely humiliate their wartime oppr
essors and instead lost everything.

  Ironically, it’s the opposite of such an attitude that gives the argument against Spain most credibility. Rather than finish with a flourish, as they often – but not always – did at Euro 2008, they have attempted to close out games with relative caution. Late 1-0 leads against Portugal, Paraguay and Germany led to a lot of sideways passing but few surges. That, however, was down to insecurity rather than arrogance.

  As Capdevila admitted at their camp on Friday, ‘The fact we’d never been to a World Cup semi-final and all that expectation of us had an effect. Against Paraguay it definitely interrupted us.’ Iniesta’s brilliant break in that game and their edge survival thereafter – think Iker Casillas’s save from Roque Santa Cruz – calmed nerves to the point they produced their most complete display since the Euro 2008 final against Germany, but a slight element returned in the final minutes. Possession but with a few tell-tale signs of panic.

  Into uncharted ground now, there wasn’t even a hint of it at Potchefstroom on Friday though. Xavi – perhaps paradoxically – spoke of his ‘determination to enjoy the final’, Xabi Alonso (or ‘big Xavi’ as the press officer calls him) that he ‘simply feels’ the best is yet to come and the team’s most beautiful moment will arrive in Soccer City tonight. A lot of arguments would end if it did.