I KNOW there’s a chance it could all end against Down on August 29, but you will forgive me, I’m sure, for being a bit of a romantic.
Because ever since the Meath game I’ve been slipping off into daydreams now and then about Johnny Doyle lifting Sam Maguire on 19 September.
Yes, yes, there are four teams left and they all feel they have every chance of ultimate glory. Far be it from me to tempt fate. Ah, but it’s a sweet dream, and every time it crosses my mind the hairs on the back of my neck rise and sometimes, if the dream is particularly vivid, there’s even a hint of a lump in my throat.
It would sound stupid to people who don’t love football, but it has occurred to me that this is the only lifelong dream I’ve ever had.
Like any human being I’ve had various ambitions and desires throughout my life; but this is the only one that has endured since childhood. I am certain I am far from alone.
Think about it; the final whistle, Kildare ahead, all heaven breaks loose as all the long days of hurt we have endured since birth (unless you’re about 90 years old) finally seem worth it. Meeting people I know on the pitch and feeling the communal sense of a joy that knows no confines. And then looking up into the Hogan and seeing one of the most heroic players we have ever produced send Sam skyward.
One of the very worst aspects of the daily spin coming from Croke Park is that it paints pitch invasions as some sort of crime or negative thing.
I was part of one in 1998 and I’ve been on the pitch countless times as other counties celebrate and I have never thought of them as anything but the happiest of times, and a feature of our games that reminds me why our organisation, for all its faults, is unique and meaningful.
But now in many people’s heads invasions mean danger, as if they are part of a dark criminal activity rather than an innocent outpouring of joy.
GAA top brass have decided they know what’s best for us and rather than leading a reasoned debate, have elected to try and scare us, by bending the truth and producing irrelevant examples of tragedy at sports stadiums.
The majority of a lapdog media have faithfully reproduced Croke Park soundbytes that are at best disingenuous and at worst border on outright dishonesty.
The Irish Independent’s back page on Saturday had the dramatic headline ‘Croker closure?’ with a greyed out picture of the stadium.
The story begins: “Croke Park would face an indefinite period of closure if there were fatalities or serious injuries arising from the contentious pitch invasions after All-Ireland finals.”
I’m sure it would, but was this really the most important sports story of the weekend, considering that the last century has proven that a fatality during a pitch invasion is only slightly less likely than an Al Qaeda bombing during a pitch invasion?
Ah, say Croke Park, but a Tyrone official suffered a heart attack in the recent quarter-final and if there had have been a pitch invasion, it would have prevented an ambulance getting to him and he would almost certainly have died.
Most of the media reported this ‘fact’ without checking it out. Only in Joe Brolly’s Sunday newspaper column did I, for one, learn that this heart attack did not even happen in Croke Park, but in Jury’s Hotel on Jones Road, long after the game had finished.
You could not say that Christy Cooney or Peter McKenna lied, as they were careful in how they phrased their example, but there is no doubt that the result was that many GAA members ended up misled. Cooney was elected to represent those members, not to lecture and order them in the manner of a dictator.
Elsewhere, we have the likes of PJ Ryan asking us to think about whether we would want someone we knew killed on the Croke Park pitch. Again, we would point out that even when people had to climb over high fencing to get on the pitch, there has never been a fatality in Ireland because of a pitch invasion.
I can’t escape the sense that Croke Park thinks its members are stupid. It is laughable scaremongering.
There are some genuine dangers from pitch invasions. One is that some thug might assault a player. Also, as far back as 2002, Kieran McGeeney felt it necessary to call for calm as the crowd surged forward during his acceptance speak.
If Croke Park had put the same effort into telling people they would be allowed onto the pitch after a brief interlude as they have put into the emotional blackmail, the problem would be solved. That interlude could be used for players to gather together and for barriers to be placed on the pitch near the Hogan Stand.
Instead, we are left with a dangerous situation being created where little danger previously existed. It is 21 years since English soccer decided barriers at stadiums were a terrible idea. Now, in 2010, the GAA are erecting them.
Croke Park warn that if present measures do not work, they will move on to any solution necessary.
That, to me, means English soccer of the 1980s-style confrontation between authorities and fans. Instead of seeing us as fellow GAA members, Croke Park now look on us as simpleton thugs, good only for paying €70 for a ticket, €5 for a disgusting hotdog, €5 for a bullshit programme, sitting there impressed by bullshit fireworks, and then going off home with ourselves.
If or when they succeed, we will have moved from community joy to community resentment of being treated like imbeciles.
And if we are kept off the pitch, and Johnny Doyle does lift Sam Maguire, the wonder will be tempered by the knowledge that our one-off way of GAA life and our wonderful championship will have moved another small step closer to becoming one of the many meaningless, corporate, soulless sports competitions that are held around the world.