Declan Bogue

WELL, WHAT CAN we say about the Kerry-Derry game now? Were you entertained?

Forgive us, but this is the week when we revisit the topic ‘The Death of Gaelic Football’ (instalment number 329 in a never-ending sequence).

The term ‘Puke Football’ has been widely invoked since. Many are unable to resist it, and it comes with some continuity given that Mickey Harte was on the sideline for both Sunday’s headliner and for the Tyrone-Kerry semi final of 2003 that spawned Pat Spillane’s quip.

People using it, though, are talking about two entirely different things.

Think of the most enduring sequence of that 2003 game. It was Kerry’s Dara Ó Cinnéide sauntering out from his defence towards the Hogan Stand. Then Conor Gormley, Philip Jordan, Kevin Hughes and Owen Mulligan surrounded him, bumping and clawing.

To his credit, he stabbed the ball back towards Darragh Ó Sé but Hughes and late arrival Sean Cavanagh forced him to spill his pick up. Ó Cinnéide gathered up the loose ball and was set upon by four players again before Stephen O’Neill sent him backwards with a shoulder.

The play by now was inching closer to the Kerry defensive ‘D’, by the way. Eventually Eoin Brosnan grabbed it and made a few more yards, but the weight of numbers overpowered him and O’Neill scooped up possession.

It was the ultimate in gegenpressing, Heavy Metal Gaelic football long before the phrases were coined. It should have been praised and hailed as a coaching innovation.

But Pat Spillane was not a good loser. In fairness, he hadn’t much experience at it, and he cast a slur on that team. Regardless, the term fits the modern-day style much more appropriately.

For the most part.

The excitement generated by the Galway-Dublin game led Tribesman manager Pádraig Joyce to state afterwards, “People talk about rule changes being made in football but is there a need after watching a game like that? I’m not so sure.”

You hear a variation of this after every good game of football, usually presented as if it is the height of common sense. Some homespun, good ol’ boys just talking a bit about the ball game.

There’s nothing scientific about this next thought, but here we go; given we end up watching somewhere around 100 games of football a year, I’d estimate that around 25% of them provide genuine excitement.

Given that Dublin and Galway served up the only truly enjoyable game out of four, we start to see it as remarkably accurate.

But three goals in total over the four quarter-finals? This is not exciting.

From the Ulster semi-finals on, only two goals were scored in three game, both of them coming with an element of fortune for Down against Armagh.

Apart from Gareth McKinless’s shot after 36 seconds, that was it for the rest of this game.

Cillian Burke had the chance of lobbing Odhran Lynch as he sprinted back towards his goals, but passed up on the opportunity. He hand passed to Sean O’Shea for a routine point instead.

That’s not a moan. Maybe it is, actually.

But there’s usually enough in games to capture the imagination; a particular play or move put together, the significance of the result, the pressure on the various managers. That all keeps the pot bubbling.

But the football itself has become a serious issue. That’s why there is a Football Review Committee.

Mickey Harte and Jack O'Connor after the game. Ryan Byrne / INPHO Ryan Byrne / INPHO / INPHO

It has morphed from the Tyrone players taking chunks out of celebrated Kerry players high up the field, to a deep-lying defensive structure, forcing turnovers and then either counter-attacking at pace, or else laboriously shuffling players into preset positions and waiting to get a player to run at a certain angle and loop around for a shot.

When it was revealed that Jim McGuinness and Rory Gallagher confiscated the mobile phones of the Donegal players in 2011, it was to keep the secret that one player – Colm McFadden – would be retained upfield while everyone else came back.

One forward left up seems daring now.

This – rather than the 2003 moment between Kerry and Tyrone – changed the shape of how teams played. Everyone adapted.

You can see the daring of McGuinness and Gallagher in daring to change the game. You admire the bravery, knowing the flak they were likely to get.

But it has done immeasurable harm to the sport as, by and large, too many other teams followed suit, seeing the gains that could be made by playing this way.

In all the fitting and lovely tributes to Micheál Ó Muircheartaigh after his passing last week, a thought struck about how lucky he was that he retired in 2010. His own thoughts held that every generation had the right to decide how the games should be played. His commentary rode the waves of excitement of a game. There’s so little of that left now.

Last year, Derry shocked Kerry by going after the game in a positive fashion. Ciaran Meenagh was standing in as manager after Rory Gallagher’s withdrawal. Derry came out to play, and were beaten. Meenagh received a lot of praise.

With a team looking a lot more frail and low on confidence, Derry came back to Croke Park as massive underdogs. They parked the bus. Underdogs in Gaelic football are expected to turn up, play the game openly, take their beating and have nice things said about them.

The problem now is that nobody is in the least bit concerned with their image. We have reached a state of Gaelic football nihilism.

The crowds still turn up out of a deep loyalty and connection to the sport. If they win, they do not care less about the fashion in which it was achieved.

Their expectations have been sufficiently lowered. They are being taken for granted.

The work of the Football Review Committee has never felt more urgent.