Every generation had its own explanation for why Mayo couldn't ever quite get over the line at Croke Park. Andy Moran's team ignored them all and wrote an ending few believed was possible.
As I walked out of Croke Park after the hurling final, I wondered if football's showpiece would follow the same script: one outstanding team proving simply too good. I still think it will.
Winning used to be routine for Dublin. Now it feels important again. Paul Flynn explains why Sunday's upset over Donegal has transformed how the team—and the public—view every result.
For years we complained about predictability. We knew who the contenders were and by the semi-finals onwards we were usually left with the same names. Nobody can say that now.
Sometimes, Gaelic football seems to be too concerned with future planning: new rules, new structures, something better in the distance. But sport exists for us to escape life’s drudgery right now. This weekend, we can lose ourselves in the moment.
Most players and teams work on some version of self-talk and visualisation exercises these days but, before your first final, there is a fine line between visualisation and dreaming.
Two months ago, after that National League victory, I was enthralled with Mickey Harte’s work at Derry. Since then, the Derry project has imploded, an unravelling of monumental proportions. Just what happened?
In the GAA, players are conditioned to wade into brawls safe in the knowledge that the disciplinary process is not the end of the matter but only the beginning.
The four provincial finals in Gaelic football this weekend will demonstrate the evolution of Gaelic football and how anarchy has given way to organised chaos.
A number of GAA players are considering walking away from the sport because of the joylessness of the games during lockdowns. Interventions might be necessary again but they make it harder to enjoy a sport that is a hobby.
© 2026 Currency Media Limited
