We are Mayo - We are special

WHEN I was a young fella many homes had an image of John F Kennedy or Padraic Pearse on the wall. In our house, we had Sean Flanagan and Gerald Courell. Those men had worn the green and red on the greatest day and won the biggest prize of all.

Conversations in most homes revolved around politics or agriculture, but in our home by the river, Gaelic football was the only show in town. Dad had collected paper cuttings of big games and even bigger men since he was was a boy and I spent countless hours poring over them and embedding them in my imagination.

Like countless others I dreamt of days in Croke Park when I would wear the green above the red and often drifted to the Land of Nod with those images dancing in my head.

Of course, those dreams never came to be realised, but as I write these words I’m blessed to be sitting in the Hogan Stand in a throbbing Croke Park with thousands of Mayo people all around me - all of us dreaming the Mayo dream and loving every second of it.

Those who attempt to assess Mayo people from their perches outside the county boundaries will never understand us. They think we’re dreamers who base our desires on wishes and wants. They fail to understand that we’re a powerful, resilient people who have survived and thrived no matter what has been thrown at us for generations.

We have consistently lost our young people to the four corners of the planet in search of living; we have been consistently been overlooked by those in power on the eastern shores, and we have to fight tooth and nail for everything we have.

Mayo people aren’t soft, timid dreamers - we’re a powerful race who refuse to give up no matter what’s thrown at us.

If we win in Croke Park today, we will march forward to the final and throw everything we have at the opposition. If we lose in Croke Park today we will shake Louth’s hand, wish them luck, go back west and ready ourselves for the next battle.

That’s what Mayo people are. That’s why we’re special. We never give up.