Nothing could dampen the spirits of Westmeath fans
“We like to make things hard for ourselves, and definitely give value for money to the supporters.” In the grand tradition of lazy journalism, I reverted to the old reliable 'cut and paste'. It was an easy call as Ronan Wallace's decree at the end of the Leinster final was equally true two weeks after it was first issued.
Following their third 90-odd-minutes of football Westmeath have cemented their reputation as the comeback kings. It would appear they are not the only ones with a reputation. Word has got around about my behaviour in Croke Park. I imagine the mandarins in Cusack Park got the call, “Don't let him anywhere near the press box,” and so this lowly scribe was banished to mix with the hoi polloi for the Westmeath v Cavan All-Ireland Senior Football Championship Round 1 game.
As the stands were filled an hour before the throw-in, and with pre-match duties occupying my time, the terraces of the home of Westmeath football beckoned. Not too bad of a punishment, and the light drizzle was not enough to penetrate my SuperDry jacket.
It was a welcome location. Away from the sanitised, passionless environs of the professional work space; mixing with the real fans. Proper fans, fans with jerseys emblazoned with Teg, not some upstart who jumped on the bandwagon six weeks ago, you know the type.
The makeup of the crowd had a similarity with the Leinster final. A notable difference was that instead of knots of blue, the blue jerseys were sprinkled like sesame seeds on a maroon bun.
The crowd could have passed for a balanced census form, old parents with old children, young parents with young children, and a few combinations of that formula. I let Michaela get past “faoi lámhach na bpiléar,” before I screamed “C'mon Westmeath,” as is my duty.
From here on it gets a bit dodgy, and I'll explain that later. It was my intention to document the slings and arrows of the outrageous fortune of the game, but there was one factor I failed to take into consideration.
Painstaking notes were made of the opening 70 minutes of the game. They probably observed things like the solitary chirp from a Cavan fan when they started to shorten the gap. The impact that the clearly-not-injured Dara McVeety had when he came on.
The wonderful support of the Westmeath fans, the equally impressive reaction of the Breffni county supporters when they got their goal. The concern that my beloved Westmeath look to be flagging with 20 minutes left to play.
I can only speculate on all these incidents, and the reason is because by the time Paddy Neilan blew full time, for the second time, all my meticulous notes were nothing more than pools of ink at the bottom of a page.
The deluge that came at the start of added time was hard to describe. The unrelenting, incessant rain that drove many supporters off the terrace, hampering conditions on the pitch, looked like it was washing away Westmeath's chances.
It wasn't only the rain, but the runoff from adjacent umbrellas made my SuperDry jacket super wet. It left my copybook sodden and all my detailed observations were obliterated. I don't mind saying, before the players returned for the final ten minutes of play the thought did cross my mind that this would be the correct time to find a dignified, but damp, way off the bandwagon.
Perhaps that was the moment that our captain's words, “We like to make things hard for ourselves,” came back to me. As well as the fact I wasn't going to get any wetter. I persevered, a fairly benign form of perseverance, in fairness. It just involved me standing there and watching real perseverance.
The reward for my low level effort was immense. Every time Westmeath has done the near impossible in the last few weeks has been a joy. Long may it continue.