1. So if the land doesn’t breed prosperity, it breeds stoicism, determination, an essential work ethic and — not unrelated — a fondness for country music. A fair amount of cunning wit and black comedy too. You’d need it in them parts, to be honest. There’s nearly nothing that can’t be mined for a quip or a yarn. Then everyone gets on with making a living. In other words, we tip away in Leitrim as best we can and don’t pass much remarks on the fact that nobody passes much remarks on us. We’re doing okay; could be better, could be worse; we’re keeping it kicked out all the same.

But with TG4 coming to town, and not forgetting Marty Morrissey for RTÉ too, we didn’t quite know whether to be flattered or worried about it. To repeat: we’re not used to any class of a spotlight shining down on us. As it turned out, in the county’s showpiece game, the two teams conspired to put on an exhibition of all that is good in Gaelic football. They did us proud.

In The Sunday Independent, Tommy Conlon reflects on an historic day for Ballinamore, and the steely resilience of the people of Leitrim. (€)

2. But the curious thing about many of the judgments on Moyes’s career was that they were anything but knee-jerk. Since getting the United job in 2013 from a legend who recommended him, this was a trajectory that was seemingly headed in only one direction. Even if you still rated Moyes as a coach – and many always have – returning to West Ham and its potty ownership 19 months after his services were deemed surplus to requirements felt like an act of pure desperation on all sides. We had all seen this film before and it invariably ended in a calamitous 3-0 defeat at Burnley and leaked stories about how disgruntled players were fuming at Moyes’s decision to ban mayonnaise from the canteen.

The Guardian’s Jonathan Liew on how he was wrong about David Moyes, who continues to exceed expectations at West Ham. Honourable mention for this piece on Alex Ferguson’s reverential status at Manchester United, too.

3. He has a thing about celebrating, Kipchoge. Sees it as something sinister, something dangerous, a self-indulgent act that might derail his mindset, make him think, somewhere in his subconscious, that he has arrived, the inference being he has nowhere left to go.

He’ll punch the air at the finish, alright, but try to get him into an open-top car or to attend a huge welcome-home party and you’ll get a polite but firm rejection.

Which begs a question: If he can’t bask in the glow of his achievements, when is Kipchoge truly content? Maybe that’s the thing about all-time greats. Maybe they never are.

For The Irish Examiner, Cathal Denney travels to Kenya to meet the greatest marathoner in history, Eliud Kipchoge.

Eliud Kipchoge celebrates winning gold at the Tokyo Olympics. Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo

4. “I’ve been sat in pre-match food with my club and I’ve got a message telling me I wasn’t going to be selected for the next England squad — when you’re literally about to go and play a game. Can you imagine how mentally tough that is? When we told the other England coaches, they were fuming.”

And that is just the players’ side of it. They all agree that the coaches and the staff have a harder time still. Steve Borthwick was the coach who had the worst of it, burdened with the role of Jones’s long-term punchbag. As Jones’s coaching coordinator, he was regarded as having the toughest job because he had the greatest demands placed on him. The coaches used to refer to those moments, when Jones turns his ire on you, as “getting an Eddie spray”. It was Borthwick who received the most spray. His four-and-a-half year tour of duty is regarded as a heroic feat of endurance.

For The Times, Owen Slot chats to backroom staff and players about why England head coach Eddie Jones is such a hard taskmaster.

5. O’Rourke pulled his teams together with his good nature and retains great friendships wherever he’s been, but always knew what distance to keep too.

When they won those titles, he didn’t take a beer after one and drank two bottles of Miller before departing from the other. When Monaghan won Ulster, he stayed long enough to pass himself, telling the players it was their night, not his.

In three years in The Loup, he was only ever in the changing room on match days. He never set foot inside it at training sessions, pulling his boots on at the back of the car and going straight on to the pitch. 

Cahir O’Kane examines what makes Glen Maghera manager Malachy O’Rourke such a popular figure, for The Irish News. 

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