Sideline View

In a week where Budget Travel were offering €199 to Tenerife and where anyone from the Peninsula would gladly pay double for 2 nights B&B on the Castletown Road. Sunday the 19th of September had arrived.

The people began to arise around 8.30am with a strange feeling in their tummy’s, what was it - Championship Final day, Cooley and the pats to be more precise and a lot of work had to be done before throw in

The bunting at Ballymac had to be re-erected – the Bothwell boys would not let a Greenore bound lorry best them. Regular Mass goers had to alter their schedules, dedicated Lordship attendees had to opt for the earlier option offered by Our Lady of the Wayside.

The kids faces had to be painted, Margaret Cranny’s stew had to be eaten, and of course St Patrick arrived at the clubrooms for a quick photo shoot.

Then came the time for adoring mothers and wives to wave goodbye to their men and of course the devout ones showered them with holy water.

Routes to the Clans pitch had to be organised. AA road watch eye in the sky gave regular updates on the traffic situation and all and sundry wondered would Gibsons men move the Traffic lights or would we have to go up Jenkinstown to avoid tailbacks. Finally the all clear was given – no obstructions. The multitudes thronged to the Clans pitch

The supporters club had arranged our meeting point at the Railway side of the field and in the words of Christy Moore there was amhrans, bodhrans, amadans, along with a Brown Bull, St Patrick and the occasional politician – no sign of St Jude as of yet but we hear St Patrick’s held in greater esteem.

Face Painting continues at the pitch and Margaret Cumiskey and Patricia Hanlon are first in line. Theresa Savage arranges a meeting place for any lost or stray kids. Linda Connor makes note of the Porto loos. Experienced troopadors from campaigns past had packed the tea and sandwiches and set up a camp that Tom Crean would be envious off. Vin O Hare checks to make sure he has the 60 fags on him, as he is sure to need them.

Tensions begin to mount as the Artane Boys band enters the pitch in front of the Minor Teams. I think to every Pats supporter this was possibly the longest football match in history.

I’m not sure if Pats Lad was running in the 3.45 in Listowel but if it was, Paddy Power would have said to put a tener on it cos it was a better bet than our Pats Boys, this attitude was far from reflected by the faithful followers and as soon as the Anchor Tours bus rolled into the Car Park the crowd erupted “Up the Pats, La La La” echoed throughout he grounds, while the bank was a wash with green and white. To hell with Paddy Power nobody would tell this crowd they weren’t backing a winner, even the Enterprise to Belfast acknowledged our boys with a tut tut of its horn.

The minor match ends. The supporters nerves are in tatters, fags are being smoked to beat the band and Prozac should be on sale at the rear of pitch. Pats people from around the world begin to ring Gerry & Jo Malone is on to Fergal from Fifth Avenue, Vivian and Sean Crawley pace the floor in Canada, Of Course Gerry Lavelle is flying the flag high in Kings Cross< Dee Macartain and family aren’t worried about the hurricane in Florida as they know the eye of the storm is over the Clans Pitch. While Rory’s down Mexico way looking for a phone and of course Padraig O’Connor’s being diplomatic.

The Cooley team enter the pitch; their crowd are loud and large in numbers but no match for the seasoned Pats supporters. Fitzer and the boys enter the field and the crowd go wild, the Pats supporters looked like a scene straight from Braveheart.

The Artane Boys Band enters, the lads take their position, the crowd roars and the game begins.

Agony, Torture, Hope, Nausea, Passion – these emotions sweep through every Pats supporter for 70 minutes. Pats ahead by one, 4 minutes on the clock. Saint Patrick makes an appearance the crowd go crazy, the players respond, we keep possession. Gabriel Mc Kinney blows his whistle. Its over.

St Patricks reigning champions. The masses invade the pitch. Today the Clans Pitch is our Mecca. Hugs, Kisses, repeated claps on the backs. We’ve done it.