IT’S ALL-IRELAND FINAL day in 2017 and we’ve just arrived at Croke Park.

Kilkenny’s team bus pulls up around the same time as ours, so we’re all heading into the dressing-rooms together.

A decision was made last night to start me at 6, but that’s information that only the management, myself and my roommate Aoife know for sure.

Everyone else still believes that the knee injury has bested me.

I have a lot on my mind as I go to collect my gear. I’m thinking about the strength of my knee and the strength of my knee strapping, and how I might end up exposing our defence if this whole plan falls to pieces.

There’s barely enough room in my head for all these thoughts, and now… I see Paudie coming over to tip me over the edge.

‘Give me your hurleys and your bag!’ he tells me, without explaining himself any further.

‘Trust me.’

He just yanks the sticks away from me and scurries off to the dressing-room.

Aoife is beside both of us, laughing uncontrollably at this s**tshow of a sideshow. Is he actually going out of his way to make me nervous? So, now I have to walk into the dressing-room with no gear in my hands, a head full of worry.

I have no choice but to play along with his tricks. Aoife, doing her best to stifle the laughter, offers some advice.

‘Gemma, close your eyes, girl, and keep going forward. He’s on a mission and you’re not going to derail him.’

Paudie continues with the play-acting during his pre-match interview with RTÉ. He swears on the bible that I’m not starting, but that I might get a run if we’re three goals up. Guantanamo Bay couldn’t torture the truth out of him when he gets going, but if you really study his face during that interview, you can see the hint of a smirk. Just the slightest crease in his skin to give the game away.

I’m looking at him so long that I can read the ‘tells’ in his expressions. He can’t hide much from me. Paudie wants to keep Kilkenny guessing about my situation.

As long as they’re looking at me, unsure about what’s coming down the tunnel before throw-in, it keeps the power in our hands.

If they don’t know the truth, then they must have a plan for the possibility of me starting or coming on at some point as a substitute. Or maybe the answer is behind door number three and I’m not fit to play at all, meaning that we’ve wasted their time.

Uncertainty keeps them distracted from the main thing, which is the game. One person certainly isn’t buying what he’s selling though. When Kilkenny manager Ann Downey gets in front of the RTÉ camera before the game, she says that Kilkenny have prepared for me to start, and that it’s only in the event of me losing a leg that I won’t be playing today.

We can’t deceive them and I’m not surprised.

It would be the same if the roles were reversed. I’m a long time playing against Kilkenny. We have an intimate knowledge of each other and if one of their players had a similar opportunity, they would do the same thing to try and smoke us out. But that doesn’t stop Paudie trying to beat them at poker.

*****

So, here we both are, coming into the last few strides of the 2017 All-Ireland final and Kilkenny have overtaken the lead and are in front by one point. This is one of the finals that attracts controversial views.

It’s low-scoring and highly attritional. The intensity is nauseating.

Everything is a hook, a ruck or a block. It’s not a day for fancy flicks or champagne hurling. The purists won’t like it. There’s 54 minutes on the clock now, as Kilkenny’s Miriam Walsh gets the first point in over 10 minutes.

That makes it nine points to eight in favour of the defending All-Ireland champions.

Six minutes of normal time remaining.

I’m still on the pitch, with all my strapping still keeping my knee in good shape.

I’m in the ready position. Full-scale ready position. It’s key to create movement all the time, even if you don’t get the ball. In some patches of the game, you might be in a great position and somebody mightn’t see you, but you keep in touch with the play anyway to offer yourself as an option.

Now we’re at 59 minutes… and still trailing by one point.

Another ruck forms around the middle of the field and the ball spills out to a Cork hurley. Two passes later and it’s in my paw.

Kilkenny players are rushing towards me as I sling my shot over the bar to level the game. Five minutes of added time are announced. My heart is close to exploding out of my chest.

Why the feck do I even play this game?

This is not good for my health. The stress is ruining me.

***

Julia White is the hero for us today.

She’s in a swamp of Kilkenny jerseys when she scores the winner, and I can’t understand how she even manages to get the shot off. But it doesn’t matter…we’re All-Ireland champions again.

I haven’t a vitamin of energy left.

Weak at the knees and weak in the head… I’m just done for the night. Forget about having a few drinks to celebrate because it would only take one or two drinks to get me drunk the way I’m feeling now. Beating your nemesis in Croke Park when it matters most sends me higher than any drug ever could.

The physical fatigue is worth it.

This is a sweet victory. After everything we went through in 2016… me getting sent off in the All-Ireland final, the manner of that defeat, and just the general misery of that year.

Now we’re back.

*****

• This extract is from ‘Why Not A Warrior’ – The Gemma O’Connor story, written with Sinead Farrell. More information here.

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