The late (but not necessarily lamented) British Prime Minister, Winston Leonard Spencer Churchill, is not someone you would normally expect to have made a sensible comment or two in relation to GAA matters, writes An Fear Rua…

No, indeed, Churchill’s name would be more usually associated with the rough and tumble of the playing fields of Eton than with those of, say, Crossmaglen, Ballivor or Ahane. He earned a reputation as a dashing young commander of cavalry in the Boer War. In World War I, as First Lord of the Admiralty, he sent tens of thousands of misfortunate Irish, Australians and New Zealanders to certain and unnecessary death in the foolish and vainglorious amphibious landing in the Turkish Dardanelles and Gallipoli. In World War Two, he successfully intrigued against the ineffectual Neville Chamberlain and became Prime Minister, and despite his penchant for copious consumption of brandy and cigars while ensconced in bed for days on end in Number Ten Downing Street, managed to lead the British to ultimate victory against the Nazi scourge.

On Ireland, Churchill’s touch was never as sure, despite – or maybe because of - a sojourn as a child and later as a government official, in the former Vice-Regal Lodge, in Dublin’s Phoenix Park, now known as Áras an Uachtaráin and the home of Her Excellency Herself, President McAleese. From the start, he was an enthusiastic supporter of the armed attempts by Ulster Loyalists to defy the will of Parliament and overturn plans for Home Rule. He dismissed his country’s responsibilities in the troubles of the North of Ireland in his sneering reference in 1922 to ‘the dreary steeples of Fermanagh and Tyrone’. And Churchill’s arrogant attack on Irish neutrality at the end of World War Two was superbly turned back on him in a famous radio broadcast by the then Taoiseach, Eamon de Valera.

In depths of World War One, as the red-faced, potbellied generals dithered safely behind the lines and British losses mounted frighteningly , Churchill referred to the brave British Tommies embattled in the muddy trenches as ‘Lions led by donkeys …’ It is a comment that might well be applied today to the Gaelic Players’ Association (GPA), led by Dónal O’Neill. The parallels between today’s GAA players and the Tommies are remarkable – young, fit, brave, committed, and honourable. But they appear to be led by ‘generals’ who started the ‘war’ with major strategic advantages, but who have frittered all these away needlessly and have managed to alienate thousands of potential ‘allies’ among ordinary fans. It would take an extraordinary gobdaw to turn the fundamental ‘grá’ of GAA followers for their favourite players into suspicion or opposition to the idea of a players’ association. But that is precisely what Dónal O’Neill has managed to do. And like the harebrained generals of World War One vintage, he seems determined to fight on until the last foot soldier on his team has been slaughtered and the ‘enemy’ is left in possession of the field.

In An Fear Rua’s judgment, the turning point in all of this was Dónal’s cunning stunt in trying to gatecrash the recent Congress in Galway. Even the most rabid supporter of players’ rights or even ‘pay-for-play’ would recognise that in any organisation only accredited delegates can attend an annual conference. So, pleading for players to be allowed in, or for an opportunity for himself to address the delegates, was a total waste of his time and energy from Day One. Like many a World War One general before him, O’Neill was attacking the wrong target and thus wasting his ammunition.

As a veteran of many years of negotiation in various arenas, An Fear Rua would advise Dónal strongly that the correct strategy is to target things players are entitled to, not things to which they are not entitled (for example, because they have not been selected as delegates by their county under the rules of the Association). Doing all of this in a fancy leather jacket, reportedly with an Umbro logo on it, only added insult to injury and added to legitimate suspicions. If O’Neill is still not clear what the players’ demands should be, he could do a lot worse than check out An Fear Rua’s Charter for GAA Players (See Shakespeare And The GAA).

The later suggestions that O’Neill had some connections with the Mark MacCormack sports promotion organisation and his pathetic outline of his playing career (three national schools titles, one Ulster club Minor, one North American championship, one Asian championship…) lost him more support. Even his fair weather friends in the national ‘meeja’ - like that doyen of Doctor O’Reilly’s Middle Abbey Street Organ, The Golden Typewriter Himself, Vincent Hogan – advised Dónal to cop himself on. In fact, the first time An Fear Rua got really worried about where the GPA might be headed was when ‘The Good, but not Great’ Eamon Dunphy devoted an entire page of the ‘Irish Examiner’ to urging the players to go on strike!

The final nail in the GPA coffin - as it currently stands - was the incoming President Seán MacCague’s shrewd choice of the popular and respected Jarlath Burns to head up the new Players’ Advisory Group. Unlike Joe McDonagh, MacCague seems to be prepared to give some space to the GPA. If and when that olive branch is extended, the GPA would be well advised to embrace it, get off the public hooks they are currently impaled on, and work to develop a transitional process to a new, truly representative and democratic players’ organisation.

The sad thing is, that like many a general before him, for peace to break out, Dónal O’Neill may well have to fall from a stray ‘shell’ or even ‘friendly fire’ from his own side