Write a comment
Down had never lost a final.
Three Finals in the 1960’s and with another resurgence in the 1990’s, where they twice made the finals, the Mourne man had triumphed on all five occasions.
My Grandfather, who lived in High Street in Portaferry, was one of the few people to have a TV set in the 60s and he also had an RTE Aerial, so when the 1968 All-Ireland Final came along it meant Daddy and the rest of the family could watch it in the living room. Usually, they would listen on the radio but now there was imagery to accompany the commentary of broadcaster Michael O’Hehir.
Daddy says that half of High Street were sitting in the living room watching the match.
And it wasn’t a particularly big living room nor a large TV set.
We grew up with the legends of the 60s and I was just too young to attend the finals in early 1990s resurgence and back then Mickey Linden was the main man, he was always mentioned at football training sessions on Tuesday night on the Rann Road.
I do have a photograph of me sitting inside the Sam Maguire from that 1994 final, the last time when Sam crossed the border into Down. It felt like a long time before I got my trip to Croke Park to watch Down bring Sam Home.
But in 2010 The Boys in Red and Black were back in the final and our opponents were Cork – the Rebel County.
And I felt this year was our year. I felt I could be part of something special…
A minibus was booked, and a large picnic was prepared, and as usual a mad scramble to find tickets.
Using all connections and avenues Daddy eventually sourced all the tickets including another x5 obtained by visiting the County Offices in Castlewellan.
Ravenous, eager, well-behaved adults stood in a quiet line in the hallway of the County Offices. Patiently waiting their turn to ask the Down representatives for spare tickets as they were like gold dust. You can’t be putting a foot wrong now. Sometimes these things are about who you know and how well your liked.
Everybody on the minibus had a ticket well most did and the ones that didn’t weren’t that mad keen about not seeing the match they just went along for the craic and to not miss the occasion.
There was only one way we had always travelled to Dublin.
It was through the countryside, leaving Crossgar to Downpatrick to Seaforde to Castlewellan to Mayobridge around the Seven Sisters before Newry and down the motorway into Dublin.
Outside of Castlewellan on the way up the Dublin Road towards Kilcoo on your right there was a sign on the mountainside. A landmark along the way. We had always looked out for it on previous holidays Down South.
It was our version of the Hollywood Sign, and it read UP DOWN.
Concise and very Inspiring indeed.
These six white large letters were put up on the rockface by the locals and if we weren’t in GAA country before we certainly were by now.
…..
Once we arrived in Dublin, we parked the minibus in some hotel car park and had our picnic. All the cars were passing by tooting their horns and they were yelling and shouting out the window and flying the Red and Black Flags of County Down.
Once the picnic was over the ticketless went into the hotel and had coffee and remained there whilst the ticketholders moved on closer to town, where they re-parked the mini bus in some housing estate and walked it towards Croke Park, where they found a bar, and had a few pints before the match started.
My Sister, she took a notion, and she wasn’t drinking. Off the drink she says. Just wasn’t in the mood she says.
She took a notion and a few months later she had a baby. Barely married a year.
And today she has one husband, two chocolate brown labradors, and not one, not two, but three children. Who all happen to play football up on the Rann Road like myself.
Down had made it through to the Final by beating the Lilli Whites of Kildare in the semi’s and were unbeaten in every other All Ireland final that they had entered. Surely this is our year. Surely, we have history on our side. Surely the Sam is Ours. All other finals unbeaten. Surely, we are bringing Sam home. Surely.
Down must have lost the toss as when they came out onto the field, they wore yellow and black their away kit colours and Cork were playing in their traditional colours of red and white.
I don’t like Down not wearing their traditional Red and Black. All their other finals they always wore red and black. It’s what they are known for. Maybe that was an omen.
At the half time whistle we were winning by four or five points, and it looked like Sam was on his way home across the border into County Down.
But Down had forgotten that a game comes in two halves and their opponents were the Rebel County. The Rebels came out in the second half and blew us away with their intensity outscoring us and ensuring that the Sam Maguire went back to County Cork.
I thought this year would be the year, but it wasn’t. That my trip to Croker would be successful, and I could be a part of the success like the Legends of the 60s and the McCartan’s and Mickey Lindens of the 1990s, but it wasn’t.
On the way back the Mini bus was quieter, there were no songs, no chat, no funny stories. No mention of the Up Down Landmark. There were no stop-offs at the Carrickdale outside Newry or Mary Margarets Bar in Hilltown.
Nobody was in the mood, and everybody was tired.
It felt like a short trip Down to Dublin, but the return journey home felt that little bit longer.
Down lost that final.
And their unbeaten record was broken by Cork.
They should have worn Red and Black.
Thank you very much and remember UP DOWN!!!
Joseph Conlan - Down to Dublin, 15th April 2025
This was published in the 8 July edition of Ireland's Own.
