January 11 – O’Tooles, Blunden Drive

It is early January. It is freezing cold. There are at least 1,500 people standing around the O’Toole’s pitch on Blunden Drive waiting to see Dublin play UCD in the O’Byrne Cup under floodlights. There are familiar faces. The type of men and women who, if Dublin were playing on Tory Island on Christmas Eve, would be there. Giving out. Not the sort of people to lead a chorus of ‘Come On You Boys in Blue’. I stamp my feet to fight off the frostbite. It’s an unlikely way to start off a year in which Dublin will win the All Ireland.

It is an unfamiliar team. Of the starting fifteen only five have previously played at Senior level and of those only Barry Cahill, Alan Brogan and Tómas Quinn would be immediately recognisable to most followers as regular members of the team. But the type of follower you get at games like these are the cognoscenti and they know many of the lads from playing under-age for the county and for their clubs.

The continuing involvement of Kilmacud Crokes in the All Ireland club series means that none of their players are available and this provides an opportunity for several St. Jude’s players who had been on the team that just failed to Na Fianna in the county semi-final. St. Brigid’s likewise claim a significant representation and two of their forwards Daibheach Dineen and Kevin Bonner stand out as chaps we are likely to see more of.

The UCD footballers are not as well favoured as their hurlers in terms of inter-county talent but they do have Fermanagh’s James Sherry and Billy Sheehan from Laois as well as 2004 Laois All Ireland minor winning captain Craig Rogers. Sheehan started well and a complete neophyte if asked to pick out who he thought were the ‘county men’ would quickly have nodded towards Sheehan and Brogan.

Dublin begin well and build up a healthy early lead but, perhaps in tribute to county tradition, proceed to allow UCD back in with two goals from Rogers and Pat Duggan. An opportunistic goal from Kevin Bonner, who pounced on the ball after a nice run and cross by Brogan from the right corner, restores Dublin’s lead at half-time.

We contemplate the O’Toole’s bar for refreshments but decide that the walk there and back would leave no time for imbibing even the hot whiskies that we crave. Instead we stand around getting colder and nodding to people who we recognise but mostly don’t know their names. “How’s it going.” “Cold night.” “They’ll win nothing.” The sort of grim fellowship that exists among people who fly model airplanes on Sunday mornings in the Phoenix Park or who climb mountains in their bare feet. Indeed, I suspect that there is some crossover.

UCD have the benefit of a stiff south-easterly breeze in the second half and seem to be getting on top. Indeed if it had not been for a certain profligacy in front of the posts, they might have turned territorial dominance into a winning lead. As this goes  on, Louth referee Paul Finnegan attracts the attention of a worried Dublin fancy who are critical of some of his decisions.

A favourite Dub description of a ‘bad ref’ is pox bottle. “Go away ye bleedin’ pox bottle”. If Seamus Aldridge had a pipe for every time he was called a pox bottle, he’d be Kapp and Petersen. Finnegan is elected to the club at O’Toole’s. We are biased obviously but some of his decisions are strange and we hope we do not meet him later in the year when bigger fish are on the pan.

Incidentally the term pox bottle has a rich literary history. In Act Three, Scene Two of Shakespeare’s The Tempest, Trinculo regales Stephano and Caliban with “A pox o' your bottle!” More evidence of the Dubliner’s command of Elizabethan English.

In fairness to some of the UCD players, they quickly identify Finnegan’s weak points and set about exploiting them. They are observed. A Dublin crowd is more scathing in its criticism than the loggione at La Scala. A UCD player who feigns grievous injury is assailed.  “Get up the fuck. Ye must be doing drama studies.”

Time is petering out and we are getting nervous. UCD go ahead and are pulled back. Then an obvious wide is given as a point before Finnegan redeems himself by deciding that it was not a score. Dublin press near the end but shoot bad wides. So do the students. Then just as we are beginning to realise that we are facing into extra time with the same enthusiasm as Ivan Denisovich looked forward to being called for work in the morning, Mossy misses a close in free. Drawn game.

Something happens at the final whistle between Billy Sheehan and one of the Dublin players. Sheehan is hopping mad and looks like he wants to continue but is fenced off by Dave Billings. The crowd has something to distract itself from the thermo frost. “Leinster champions Billy.” “Paul Casey’s asking for you.”

Although the UCD huddle looks the more fired up, it is Dublin who begin the first half of added time with more purpose. Brogan ups a gear and puts Dublin ahead. Shane Lennon levels affairs but that is the last score of the night for UCD. Dublin ease clear and look home and hosed after the first ten minutes. The loggione is not convinced but tonight there is to be no twist in the tale. Mossy is dragged down in the square and places the ball expertly from the penalty spot. “Why didn’t you do that half an hour ago?” cries one of the frozen.

We troop off, as content as maiden aunts after a black fast. There’s sandwiches and tea for the players in the O’Toole’s bar. UCD are big but it is the Dublin lads who are smiling and relaxed. None of them hang around for long and none of them are drinking. Young fellas today!

Pillar must have gone home but some of the back room boys are in the corner. Dully smiling and nodding and gesturing with his fist. Brian Talty sitting beside him looking smug. Didn’t look smug any time Dully was close to him in ’83! All change now. All singing from the same hymn sheet. All of us with one mission. The ship has left port. Hoist the main sail boys!