By
Séamus Morris

Meath – the very mention of the name provokes a distinct reaction in the mind of Gaels…

Every sport has a ‘Meath’. In soccer the role is played by the Germans - dour, tough, efficient and, as that well worn phrase goes, ‘never beaten’. Australia inhabit the same sphere in rugby, possessed of an ability to steal victory when defeat seems the logical conclusion. Sport needs its Meaths.

Redoubtable battlers appear to have been patented in Meath. Even the name itself is harsh – blunt and straight to the point. Think ‘Meath’ and you are transported back to days when Stafford was robotically pointing frees and Lyons guarded his goalmouth with the ferocity of, appropriately, a Lion (how well he was named !). Think ‘Meath’ and it is inevitable that the summer of ’91 will enter your mind, when Meath and Dublin barged their way into the consciousness of a sporting nation. Those four epic games that summer provided an aura to Meath football that still lingers to this day. Only Meath could have had the temerity to turn a four match marathon into a sixty second sprint when they tortured the Dubs with that Foley goal and Beggy point at the finishing line.

Meath. It takes a special county to call themselves ‘Royal’ in an association such as the GAA. Meath teams wrapped themselves in a concrete blanket of determination and self belief, uncaring to the thoughts or wishes of those who sought their dethronement.

Bang ! That blanket has been blasted to smithereens. De Scribe took his seat at Croke Park wondering if the Meath story under Seán Boylan had one final chapter in it. Boylan has been at the helm in Meath for 22 years (not bad for a man who was originally more enamoured with the small ball). Like a mother who doesn’t know when to let her children leave the family home unsupervised, Seán appears to be unable to let go of the Meath Gaelic football team. Rather than the team needing its manager, it now appears that the manager cannot function without his team. Parting will be tough.

Croke Park witnessed a Meath team naked, devoid of that blanket of self- assurance. Leadership and purpose were alien concepts, the motions were gone through with the minimum of fuss. Laois, in their new look, slim tight attire, made Meath appear unattractive and dated. Swashbuckling forward play was lit up by sublime footpassing and point scoring. Meath, like the rest of us, just looked on.

As clouds gathered over Jones’ Road it appeared that we were attending a wake of sorts, for this Meath team was dying on its feet. Old memories of happier days, stored in the turf of HQ, were being trampled upon by a Meath team that looked lost. Only a door marked ‘Exit’ would rescue them. Laois played the proverbial ducks and drakes with the Royal County until Colm Parkinson took it a step too far and received his punishment. Meath, for one last time, felt the sensation of being down to the mythical fourteen men. The county of 007 was severely shaken and stirred.

One last throw of the dice entailed the introduction of Graham Geraghty. The only purpose this served was to provide a target for the vocal chords of thousands of Laois fans. The Meath man beside me was disgusted.

At the conclusion it was difficult to escape the sensation that Meath had reached a new low. Shorn of spirit and confidence, this team looks easy prey for opponents in the qualifiers. Only a minor miracle will ensure that Seán Boylan sees a remarkable 23rd season as Bainisteoir.

Sport is an unsentimental animal at times, the ending of eras is on terms rarely kind to the participants. In a perfect world, all our sporting heroes would leave the stage with the cup, with no regrets and many thanks. Very few ever encounter this nirvana. Sunday’s match will likely be Seán Boylan’s last in Croke Park. It wasn’t the way he had pictured it. No packed stadium, no Hill (literally) baying for his blood. No last minute score to rob an opponent and make his team richer. No, it was not a Meath nor Meath’s, day. It was an ending.

Somebody else will have to start the next beginning.