A salute to Dublin, one of GAA's greatest ever football teams

By MARTIN CARNEY

IN the afterglow of Mayo’s win against Dublin in the All-Ireland semi-final, it was understandable that all of our focus concentrated on the victors.

Losing hurts. Mayo need no reminding of this, and there is little for the vanquished to do other than retreat to the fringes where, analysis suspended, succour is found by totally separating oneself from the sport.

For Dublin this was a rare occurrence; a moment where for the first time since August 2014 they tasted a championship defeat.

On that day they failed to withstand a sensational Donegal performance and were beaten by a six-point margin.

From that team, Philly McMahon, Johnny Cooper, Michael Fitzsimons, James McCarthy and Dean Rock remained to the present day.

Their subsequent record following this defeat was a run of 45 unbeaten championship games, culminating in six consecutive All Ireland titles. Doubtless, this is a record that will stand the test of times.

Much of the focus after the game with Mayo concentrated on that tackle and Dublin’s disciplinary implosion that betrayed so much of what they represented in the past.

John Small’s shuddering shoulder-to-face collision that left Eoghan McLaughlin with a broken jaw was a sickening tackle that, for whatever reason, escaped the scrutiny of the referee and his assistants.

In Gaelic sport there are seven on-field officials with the power to highlight any misdemeanour. Each umpire, aside from signalling scores and wides, has a quarter of the field to monitor.

Both linesmen, experienced and reputable referees themselves, are, among other things, tasked with the responsibility of bringing the attention of the referee to anything that may have escaped his scrutiny.

How none of the seven saw anything wrong with John Small’s tackle is a mystery. Surely they cannot plead a case of instant collective myopia.

The bottom line is none of them deemed the tackle illegal, never mind dangerous, and as a consequence refereeing in a broader context suffered a huge reputational hit.

Dispiriting

For me, though, it was the manner in which Dublin plumbed the behavioural depths later in the game that was particularly dispiriting.

James McCarthy’s late off the ball shenanigans with Diarmuid O’Connor left a sour taste, as did John Small’s attack on Ryan O’Donoghue.

Their frustration was understandable due to the team’s collective failure in coping with the Mayo comeback and the sub-par performances of so many respected and outstanding performers in dealing with the unfolding mess.

Yet by allowing themselves get side-tracked into mini-vendettas, they played into Mayo’s hands and ended up undermining some of their hard-earned reputational excellence.

In the context of the overall evening, it would be remiss not to report on some of the after-match exchanges I witnessed.

The customary handshake between vanquished and victor is a sacred tradition in all codes that sportingly on the night was upheld for the most part.

Manager Dessie Farrell immediately sought out James Horan to offer congratulations; Ciaran Kilkenny, James McCarthy, Evan Comerford along with quite a cohort of their team-mates offered their hands in defeat.

Noble gestures that I am sure were much appreciated by the victors.

Seeing them rise above and put behind themselves the anarchy and madness of the previous 90 minutes reflected well on their team.

Now that Dublin are gone from the championship, questions regarding how history will judge them and where will they rank alongside the greats in the game’s history are valid and timely.

Have they done enough to rank in comparison with the great Kerry team of the '70s and '80s or were they better again?

It is for the individual to make their own mind up on that question but, as one who had the good fortune to see both in action, I believe they should be mentioned in the same breath.

Ok, Kerry were more naturally gifted, I think, and had a forward sextet that was the envy of everyone. In Jacko, they had a midfielder who would have graced any era. Their defence was a mix of raw brawn and swashbuckling adventure.

Kerry of that era quite simply had style to compete on whatever terms you liked.

Yet in all these departments Dublin were more than a match. Stephen Cluxton added a dimension to his position that had hitherto been rare.

His restart strategy, now copied by every team, became an integral part of their armoury. Possessing a sense of calm control and blessed with good communication skills and judgement, he inspired those in front through many of their crises.

When they had Jack McCaffrey, Rory O’Carroll and Cian O’Sullivan at the back, the defence in general displayed a great blend of style, power and authority.

With McCaffrey’s departure went many of the thrills that warmed the hearts of the Hill. His swan song in the 2019 final with Kerry, which yielded one goal and three points from play, was special.

The fusion of power, pace and ball-winning certainty was present at midfield before the appearance of Brian Fenton. Michael Darragh Macauley and Denis Bastick saw to that.

Yet in giving Fenton his championship debut against Longford in June 2015, Dublin introduced a colossus who represented everything positive in the game.

Quite simply, Fenton at his best was peerless and in anchoring every one of their six-in-a-row successes he has earned the right, in my book, to be regarded as one of the best ever.

The Brogans, Connolly, Kilkenny and O’Callaghan would have graced any attack in any era.

Their diverse yet complementary merits gave them that air of unpredictability that defenders fear.

With a mix of clever movement, quick passing interchanges and subtle positioning, they mastered a facility to score goals at the right time in the tightest games.

Backed by the decibel swell from the Hill – their games, unless of course for supporters of Mayo, Donegal and Kerry – would encourage the uncommitted to take up the code.

In saluting their achievements and influence I am recognising that over the last decade we have witnessed a team of worthy champions; a team, indeed, who rank among the greatest ever.

That the honour of defeating them should fall to Mayo, the team who more than any other tested them, was appropriate and even though some of their behaviour in their hour of defeat left a sour taste, it shouldn’t deflect from recognising them as a truly outstanding team.