WHEN THE FINAL whistle went in 2024, the ball was in the arms of Jarly Óg Burns, in a freakishly similar spot to where Kieran McGeeney held it when the final whistle came in 2002 to signal that Armagh were All Ireland champions.
Just after referee Sean Hurson cast his arms wide and made the final peeps, the Armagh Nation didn’t know what to do with itself, until they did, half a second later. They went ballistic, bananas, balloobas. Full-fat Armagh.
On the sideline, Kieran Donaghy and Ciaran McKeever recognised the moment. In the weeks leading into this final, both men spoke of their deep admiration – nah, love actually – of Kieran McGeeney. They ached for an All-Ireland. Not for themselves, but for Geezer.
So they hoisted him up on their shoulders and showed him off to the Hogan Stand, like a local councillor getting in on the third count of a finely balanced constituency.
Kieran McGeeney is now the All Ireland winning manager. Armagh are now the All Ireland champions. This may take some getting used to.
And that’s nothing to take away from a fine, fine achievement. It’s just that on 12, May, they were level on 0-20 each against Donegal in the Ulster final and the whole thing had to be decided on the day with penalties.
They lost and the narratives of Jim McGuinness returning home to lead Donegal to the promised land were just too damn juicy for many to resist. The fact that McGuinness had helped Down the previous year to defeat Donegal in the Ulster championship never got a mention.
The strongest line was that Armagh couldn’t go and win it for themselves. That McGeeney was sitting at the front of the bus, the driver in a headlock under his right oxter and the left frantically wrenching the handbrake up and out of its’ housing.
What happened then?
Lurgan happened. Stefan Campbell – a man who toiled all day long in that punishing Ulster final – insisted they go to Lurgan.
If there was a marketing campaign for Lurgan, it might urge visitors to bring a helmet. In perhaps the most fanatical following there is in the game, the Lurgan crew swells the numbers every time. For them, the football is part of the day, but the party is the day too.
They went on the beer to Lurgan for a couple of days. After that, they decided they were in a new competition. Campbell would soon accept that his new role would be to come off the bench to influence the game in the second half. And off they went.
**
22 years ago, Kieran McGeeney stood on the Hogan Stand steps. The county secretary of the time, Paddy Óg Nugent, wrapped his arms around him as he hoisted up Sam Maguire.
Afterwards, there was much talk of the 120 years of pure struggle it took to even play Gaelic Games in Armagh, of helicopters landing during club games, of Crossmaglen Rangers having a large chunk of their grounds confiscated by the British Army to create a heavily-fortified security premises.
From his vantage point, McGeeney wasn’t enjoying the view.
“Get back!” he roared into the microphone. Beneath him, he could see that people at the front of the large heaving crowd were struggling.
“Get back!”
That night, he talked and talked. He was content for a night.
The day after, the bus snaked it’s way to the Carrickdale. McGeeney and manager Joe Kernan had a famous picture from the roof, looking down on the crowds.
In the bus, Oisín McConville sat fidgeting, locked in his own private hell. When a team mate told him they would be touring the county for the next couple of days, all he could think of was abandoning ship and getting to a bookmakers to gamble.
In the traditional day-after-an-All-Ireland-win-interviews, the Armagh players were making a solemn vow. It takes a good team to win an All Ireland, but it takes a great team to retain it.
They were already saddling unnecessary baggage to an incredible achievement.
One year on, and Armagh are back in the All Ireland final and they have Tyrone for company this time. But they are tense and wound up and fucking irritable, truth be told.
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The Irish News hold a night when they honour the Ulster All Stars. All the nominees are there and across a few tables, the Tyrone players are laughing and joking, taking the year in their stride with new manager Mickey Harte having already delivered the National League and an Ulster title.
Armagh arrive in one group, through a side entrance. They huddle tight around a couple of tables and maintain a stony countenance. There is no horseplay. Once the awards are handed out, they disappear completely.
Onto the All Ireland final. Tyrone win.
Kieran McGeeney stands leaning against the wall of the tunnel, watching Peter Canavan make his valedictory speech, welcoming Sam Maguire to Tyrone for the very first time.
Kieran McGeeney, 2003 final. INPHO
INPHO
Asked about it some time later, he said he was soaking it all in, to use as fire to motivate himself in the seasons to come. To become that Great Team they talked about.
The second All Ireland never arrives. In 2004, Fermanagh knock them out. The year later they play three huge games against Tyrone and win the battle of the Ulster final, but lose the war in the All Ireland semi final.
In 2006, Kerry, with the help of a Kieran Donaghy goal, beat them in the quarter-final. A year later, Derry take them out in a Clones qualifier.
The flame is extinguished. McGeeney’s body is wrecked. He retires.
**
A Friday night drive through Armagh. Taking your sons through the Cathedral city to note the flags and bunting and ‘Good Luck Armagh and Punky Toner’ type signs festooned around the county.
It’s seeping in everywhere. The county has gone mad. The scramble for tickets has long since lurched into insanity. Armagh is a county that are putting everything off until next week.
The RTÉ crew are looking for some colour for their Up For The Match programme. Where else would they head but to Silverbridge, home of the GAA President, Jarlath Burns. They send Marty. Of course they send Marty.
Over in Galway, Maura is at Salthill-Knocknacarra. They try their best, but the camera is focussed on a small bit of a hall as Maura squeezes the anecdotes out of Joe Bergin and Sean Armstrong. It’s grand, like.
And then they switch to Silverbridge. Marty arrives in an open-top car. There’s hundreds there, all going stone mad. Living their best lives.
**
The game.
Who might have thought Ben Crealey would be the man to lead the scoring threat?
Who might have thought that Oisín Conaty would have been left so gloriously alone to cause absolute wreck?
Rian O’Neill nails a difficult shot. His brother Oisín comes on and is spraying the ball about like Andrea Pirlo. He’s putting the foot back into football, lacing the thing long and hard.
Niall Grimley catches one. He turns and has no time to think about the percentage shot or lay offs or to spot who is coming on the loop. Recycling is for blue bins.
Instead, he leathers the ball and it goes over the bar. Two kicks, 80 metres covered. From a man who lost his brother last November after he went out to celebrate his 40th birthday.
As the final whistle blows, it’s in the hands of Jarly Óg. He has a few moments for himself. Then he takes off bounding, skipping, tripping up the steps of the Hogan Stand, tearing up to grab a hold of his father, the GAA President.
Woah. Hollywood calling!
GAA President Jarlath Burns with his son, Jarly Óg Burns. James Crombie / INPHO
James Crombie / INPHO / INPHO
Burns might not have been there. Before the start of the season, he stepped off the county carousel. He was for travelling, we were told.
But Burns is not the type of lad you might expect to see in baggy elephant-print pantaloons with a man-bun, ready for the full moon party in Thailand. He’s a GAA man. He’s had a difference of opinion with McGeeney.
Aidan Forker speaks to Burns. Bridges are mended. He is back on board. But nothing is going to be easy for him. He accepts that.
What do you want from the GAA leadership? You want some leadership. Some of that means stripping back the feeling that over the last decade it has become similar in the worst ways to cold, impersonal sporting bodies.
Whether there is a truth in it or not, accusations have flown that it has become a sterile organisation.
Which is a shame, because the way in which the GAA functions is a modern day miracle; you put it all in, and you don’t expect anything back only to be part of something bigger than yourself. The GAA is about ‘The We’, rather than ‘The Me.’
When Burns became President, he wasn’t shy in setting out the targets he wanted to establish for the Association. Among those was providing leadership and connection. In his rousing speech before he handed over the cup to Aidan Forker, he name-checked the various volunteers that make this miracle come to life, day after day, week after week, year after year.
Referees. Umpires. Committee members. Blessed are the tea-makers. Those that put out a flag, those that mow the pitches, everyone you could imagine, with the point that This Day Is For You(!).
There was a time recently when joint captains were forbidden from lifting a cup together. The previous President had a sloppy habit of getting the names of team captains and their clubs wrong.
Burns has shown he puts in the hard yards of research and has little time for fussy protocol. He brought Aidan Forker’s wife Eimear and son Ross over the barrier to join the Armagh team captain for his speech.
It was all so touching as Forker mentioned the sacrifices that it all takes from wives, girlfriends, partners. Behind him, Eimear touches his arm. It’s so damn tender.
**
The last four years have had four different All Ireland champions. With Galway, Mayo, Derry and Donegal set to lock and load for 2025 along with the perennial challenge from Kerry and Dublin, we might just be living through football’s own Revolution Years.
There is a good chance now that the accepted wisdom of management could be flipped. That there is no such thing, say, as an unlucky general, the busted flush, the loser.
Five year deals might become the norm. Long-termism could take root and counties could plan out in meticulous detail how they achieve their goals over a sustained period.
There is nothing new in that, of course. Back in the 1950s, a young clerk by the name of Maurice Hayes had an administrative role with Down GAA and boldly put together a blueprint to win an All Ireland.
Or maybe there’s just not many stubborn buggers like Kieran McGeeney about. Perhaps anyone could get fed up of the back-biting and bitching and tire of being on a constant war footing.
But not McGeeney. Even when this team were put through the trials of Job, he kept the flame flickering.
Even through four championship exits on penalties.
INPHO
INPHO
“Sometimes your strongest steel is forged in fire. There is no doubt about that,” said McGeeney.
“It affects you in a way that is very hard to articulate to people, that when your personality is entwined in a victory or defeat and the impact that can have on you and what it can do.
“In those moments that we lost on penalties and those moments where we sat in there with our heads in our hands, did that have an impact on the last five minutes, definitely.
“When they refused to be beaten, even though we were trying our best to beat ourselves in that five or six minutes, there was fellas like Ben (Crealey), everybody, throwing their bodies at the line just to win and to refuse that (feeling of defeat) once more. Hopefully, as it did with us back in the day, it can change and you can have a bit of a bounce off that. I hope this county does. But they’ll have a week to celebrate first.”
It takes a good team to win an All Ireland. But even if that team wins only one All Ireland, they can still be great. McGeeney’s team that he played on was a great team.
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Armagh's utter joy and day of deliverance from the weight of their own expectation
WHEN THE FINAL whistle went in 2024, the ball was in the arms of Jarly Óg Burns, in a freakishly similar spot to where Kieran McGeeney held it when the final whistle came in 2002 to signal that Armagh were All Ireland champions.
Just after referee Sean Hurson cast his arms wide and made the final peeps, the Armagh Nation didn’t know what to do with itself, until they did, half a second later. They went ballistic, bananas, balloobas. Full-fat Armagh.
On the sideline, Kieran Donaghy and Ciaran McKeever recognised the moment. In the weeks leading into this final, both men spoke of their deep admiration – nah, love actually – of Kieran McGeeney. They ached for an All-Ireland. Not for themselves, but for Geezer.
So they hoisted him up on their shoulders and showed him off to the Hogan Stand, like a local councillor getting in on the third count of a finely balanced constituency.
Kieran McGeeney is now the All Ireland winning manager. Armagh are now the All Ireland champions. This may take some getting used to.
And that’s nothing to take away from a fine, fine achievement. It’s just that on 12, May, they were level on 0-20 each against Donegal in the Ulster final and the whole thing had to be decided on the day with penalties.
They lost and the narratives of Jim McGuinness returning home to lead Donegal to the promised land were just too damn juicy for many to resist. The fact that McGuinness had helped Down the previous year to defeat Donegal in the Ulster championship never got a mention.
The strongest line was that Armagh couldn’t go and win it for themselves. That McGeeney was sitting at the front of the bus, the driver in a headlock under his right oxter and the left frantically wrenching the handbrake up and out of its’ housing.
What happened then?
Lurgan happened. Stefan Campbell – a man who toiled all day long in that punishing Ulster final – insisted they go to Lurgan.
If there was a marketing campaign for Lurgan, it might urge visitors to bring a helmet. In perhaps the most fanatical following there is in the game, the Lurgan crew swells the numbers every time. For them, the football is part of the day, but the party is the day too.
They went on the beer to Lurgan for a couple of days. After that, they decided they were in a new competition. Campbell would soon accept that his new role would be to come off the bench to influence the game in the second half. And off they went.
**
22 years ago, Kieran McGeeney stood on the Hogan Stand steps. The county secretary of the time, Paddy Óg Nugent, wrapped his arms around him as he hoisted up Sam Maguire.
Afterwards, there was much talk of the 120 years of pure struggle it took to even play Gaelic Games in Armagh, of helicopters landing during club games, of Crossmaglen Rangers having a large chunk of their grounds confiscated by the British Army to create a heavily-fortified security premises.
From his vantage point, McGeeney wasn’t enjoying the view.
“Get back!” he roared into the microphone. Beneath him, he could see that people at the front of the large heaving crowd were struggling.
“Get back!”
That night, he talked and talked. He was content for a night.
The day after, the bus snaked it’s way to the Carrickdale. McGeeney and manager Joe Kernan had a famous picture from the roof, looking down on the crowds.
In the bus, Oisín McConville sat fidgeting, locked in his own private hell. When a team mate told him they would be touring the county for the next couple of days, all he could think of was abandoning ship and getting to a bookmakers to gamble.
In the traditional day-after-an-All-Ireland-win-interviews, the Armagh players were making a solemn vow. It takes a good team to win an All Ireland, but it takes a great team to retain it.
They were already saddling unnecessary baggage to an incredible achievement.
One year on, and Armagh are back in the All Ireland final and they have Tyrone for company this time. But they are tense and wound up and fucking irritable, truth be told.
The Irish News hold a night when they honour the Ulster All Stars. All the nominees are there and across a few tables, the Tyrone players are laughing and joking, taking the year in their stride with new manager Mickey Harte having already delivered the National League and an Ulster title.
Armagh arrive in one group, through a side entrance. They huddle tight around a couple of tables and maintain a stony countenance. There is no horseplay. Once the awards are handed out, they disappear completely.
Onto the All Ireland final. Tyrone win.
Kieran McGeeney stands leaning against the wall of the tunnel, watching Peter Canavan make his valedictory speech, welcoming Sam Maguire to Tyrone for the very first time.
Asked about it some time later, he said he was soaking it all in, to use as fire to motivate himself in the seasons to come. To become that Great Team they talked about.
The second All Ireland never arrives. In 2004, Fermanagh knock them out. The year later they play three huge games against Tyrone and win the battle of the Ulster final, but lose the war in the All Ireland semi final.
In 2006, Kerry, with the help of a Kieran Donaghy goal, beat them in the quarter-final. A year later, Derry take them out in a Clones qualifier.
The flame is extinguished. McGeeney’s body is wrecked. He retires.
**
A Friday night drive through Armagh. Taking your sons through the Cathedral city to note the flags and bunting and ‘Good Luck Armagh and Punky Toner’ type signs festooned around the county.
It’s seeping in everywhere. The county has gone mad. The scramble for tickets has long since lurched into insanity. Armagh is a county that are putting everything off until next week.
The RTÉ crew are looking for some colour for their Up For The Match programme. Where else would they head but to Silverbridge, home of the GAA President, Jarlath Burns. They send Marty. Of course they send Marty.
Over in Galway, Maura is at Salthill-Knocknacarra. They try their best, but the camera is focussed on a small bit of a hall as Maura squeezes the anecdotes out of Joe Bergin and Sean Armstrong. It’s grand, like.
And then they switch to Silverbridge. Marty arrives in an open-top car. There’s hundreds there, all going stone mad. Living their best lives.
**
The game.
Who might have thought Ben Crealey would be the man to lead the scoring threat?
Who might have thought that Oisín Conaty would have been left so gloriously alone to cause absolute wreck?
Rian O’Neill nails a difficult shot. His brother Oisín comes on and is spraying the ball about like Andrea Pirlo. He’s putting the foot back into football, lacing the thing long and hard.
Niall Grimley catches one. He turns and has no time to think about the percentage shot or lay offs or to spot who is coming on the loop. Recycling is for blue bins.
Instead, he leathers the ball and it goes over the bar. Two kicks, 80 metres covered. From a man who lost his brother last November after he went out to celebrate his 40th birthday.
As the final whistle blows, it’s in the hands of Jarly Óg. He has a few moments for himself. Then he takes off bounding, skipping, tripping up the steps of the Hogan Stand, tearing up to grab a hold of his father, the GAA President.
Woah. Hollywood calling!
Burns might not have been there. Before the start of the season, he stepped off the county carousel. He was for travelling, we were told.
But Burns is not the type of lad you might expect to see in baggy elephant-print pantaloons with a man-bun, ready for the full moon party in Thailand. He’s a GAA man. He’s had a difference of opinion with McGeeney.
Aidan Forker speaks to Burns. Bridges are mended. He is back on board. But nothing is going to be easy for him. He accepts that.
What do you want from the GAA leadership? You want some leadership. Some of that means stripping back the feeling that over the last decade it has become similar in the worst ways to cold, impersonal sporting bodies.
Whether there is a truth in it or not, accusations have flown that it has become a sterile organisation.
Which is a shame, because the way in which the GAA functions is a modern day miracle; you put it all in, and you don’t expect anything back only to be part of something bigger than yourself. The GAA is about ‘The We’, rather than ‘The Me.’
When Burns became President, he wasn’t shy in setting out the targets he wanted to establish for the Association. Among those was providing leadership and connection. In his rousing speech before he handed over the cup to Aidan Forker, he name-checked the various volunteers that make this miracle come to life, day after day, week after week, year after year.
Referees. Umpires. Committee members. Blessed are the tea-makers. Those that put out a flag, those that mow the pitches, everyone you could imagine, with the point that This Day Is For You(!).
There was a time recently when joint captains were forbidden from lifting a cup together. The previous President had a sloppy habit of getting the names of team captains and their clubs wrong.
Burns has shown he puts in the hard yards of research and has little time for fussy protocol. He brought Aidan Forker’s wife Eimear and son Ross over the barrier to join the Armagh team captain for his speech.
**
The last four years have had four different All Ireland champions. With Galway, Mayo, Derry and Donegal set to lock and load for 2025 along with the perennial challenge from Kerry and Dublin, we might just be living through football’s own Revolution Years.
There is a good chance now that the accepted wisdom of management could be flipped. That there is no such thing, say, as an unlucky general, the busted flush, the loser.
Five year deals might become the norm. Long-termism could take root and counties could plan out in meticulous detail how they achieve their goals over a sustained period.
There is nothing new in that, of course. Back in the 1950s, a young clerk by the name of Maurice Hayes had an administrative role with Down GAA and boldly put together a blueprint to win an All Ireland.
Or maybe there’s just not many stubborn buggers like Kieran McGeeney about. Perhaps anyone could get fed up of the back-biting and bitching and tire of being on a constant war footing.
But not McGeeney. Even when this team were put through the trials of Job, he kept the flame flickering.
Even through four championship exits on penalties.
“Sometimes your strongest steel is forged in fire. There is no doubt about that,” said McGeeney.
“It affects you in a way that is very hard to articulate to people, that when your personality is entwined in a victory or defeat and the impact that can have on you and what it can do.
“In those moments that we lost on penalties and those moments where we sat in there with our heads in our hands, did that have an impact on the last five minutes, definitely.
“When they refused to be beaten, even though we were trying our best to beat ourselves in that five or six minutes, there was fellas like Ben (Crealey), everybody, throwing their bodies at the line just to win and to refuse that (feeling of defeat) once more. Hopefully, as it did with us back in the day, it can change and you can have a bit of a bounce off that. I hope this county does. But they’ll have a week to celebrate first.”
It takes a good team to win an All Ireland. But even if that team wins only one All Ireland, they can still be great. McGeeney’s team that he played on was a great team.
The team that he manages now, is also great.
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All-Ireland Final Armagh Kieran McGeeney