Wrong road with amazing twist

Wrong road with amazing twist

I was on my way to a Funeral Mass in Bofeenaun, Co. Mayo.  Though I heard many times of Bofeenaun I had never driven there before and, apart from knowing it was near Ballina, had no idea how to go.  Enter Google Maps!  “Navigate to Bofeenaun Parish Church” and I was on my way!  I was a bit surprised in Foxford when the voice told me to take a left turn onto, what I knew to be the Pontoon Road, since I had assumed I’d head for Ballina and turn off somewhere.  I figured Google knew what it was at and thought who am I to fight with you so left turn it was.

Passed out by Pontoon and a few miles past there, turned right.  I had plenty time and the KMs were decreasing so I knew I was headed in the right direction but still doubted that Google had picked out an obscure enough route for me.  I went with it nonetheless.

I came around a corner and my breath was taken away by the view in front of me.  It was like a living postcard. Having time, I stopped and took two photos (different locations).  There was no other response really.


The photos capture something of the scene but there was more to it.  It doesn’t do justice to the fog descending on the mountain or the quietness of the moment. I’m still glad I took it.

Shortly afterwards I was in Bofeenaun and I showed the picture to one of the priests in the sacristy.  He said “when you live around here you don’t notice” and I know what he meant.  It’s a pity not to notice though.  So many would love to have this as a backdrop.

The thought I had afterwards was along the lines of even had I been on the wrong road (and I’m assured I wasn’t), it was worth it.  So maybe the odd spell of time on a wrong road might help attune our eyes to something that needs to be seen, is worth seeing and leaves a memory.

To win just once …

To win just once …

I was at an All-Ireland Semi-Final once.  It was in 1975 and Sligo played Kerry.   I was twelve years of age.  I’d forgotten that Sligo had to play Mayo twice (another year of replays!) and eventually became Connaught Champions by a 1 point victory.  It was  plenty 🙂

I remember going to Dublin with my parents and at least one brother, if not the two.  We had Black and White Flags, ribbons and hats.  It was mighty.  Yes Kerry was Kerry but dreams were real.  Alas, Sligo was badly beaten.  I hadn’t remembered the score but just checked and see it was 3:13 – 0:5

A long journey home!

There’s no denying the excitement of these days for Mayo people at home and away.  I imagine the twelve year old me draped, not in Black and White but, in Green and Red – heading to Dublin.  Walking to Croke Park in his  father and mother’s shadow, finding a voice to roar and with a heart to hope.  Total commitment to the team and total belief too.  Crucial.

These words will be a faded memory, the ups and downs of this week likewise, when people still discuss the All-Ireland Final of 2017.  The kicks, the misses, the cards, the decisions, the most minute detail of the seventy plus minutes will be told and re-told for years to come.  Analysists all.  The admiration though has to be for the men on the field who have given so, so much – sacrificed literally – to play the biggest game of their lives on the biggest platform imaginable – Croke Park, on the third Sunday of September.

Truly the majority of Ireland is rooting for Mayo.  Chances are, even in “Dublin’s Fair City”, there are some who would not begrudge the taillights of a coach or train heading Westwards with Sam Maguire among the  passengers.  There are people who have followed, supported, wished and dreamt a lifetime’s following, supporting, wishing and dreaming.  There are too, twelve year olds, five year olds, twenty year olds …. waiting.

Ah, to win just once!

 

When the whistle blows …

When the whistle blows …

I really thought this was Mayo’s year.  I am a Sligo man but when Sligo’s out of the equation, I believe our next loyalty lies with the province and when the county representing the province is one in which I’ve spent most of my years as priest, it’s obvious my loyalty was rooted in Mayo in the lead up to yesterday’s game. I truly hoped (and believed) victory would come the way of the Green and Red.  Alas!

I never played football at anything approaching a meaningful level and certainly have no concept of what it means to wear the Club Colours, never mind the County Colours.  I know there’s pride in the wearing and that it is hugely significant to those talented enough, dedicated enough, honoured and picked to wear the team’s jersey.  In more recent years my admiration for such people has increased to a degree that shocks me. Unlike others, I can’t name teams or follow the game at the intense pace that comes so naturally to some but I totally respect those involved.

Truth told, at times I envy the dedication shown to the team and the willingness to do whatever one is told by management in terms of training, food intake, alcohol avoidance etc.  I sometimes wish we could harness that degree of commitment and bring it to my own area of involvement in the lives of people. practice of the Faith and commitment to parish life.  That’s an aside though and maybe something to think about for another day.

It was such an intense game yesterday (as indeed was the drawn game) and nail-biting to the end. It was not to be Mayo’s day and Dublin achieved the “back to back” so desperately wanted.  I suppose nobody can blame the team or county for that. Their dedication too in undoubted as is their obvious skill.

A few photos emerged last night – many photos but two caught my attention.  Both were of Andy Moran in the company of his young daughter.  I celebrated Andy and Jenny’s Wedding Mass and feel something of a connection though we don’t meet very often.  There’s no denying Andy’s passion for the game and I’ve no doubt he’s deeply disappointed that another year has come and gone.

Together on a field of dreams

Together on a field of dreams

In the photos, one shows Andy sitting on the grass of Croke Park. and his daughter sits on one of his outstretched legs. There’s something healing in that photo – something that says the Metal of Sam Maguire may be sought after but it’s cold comfort when compared with the flesh and blood you shaped, nurtured and nourish. The little girl sits with one who is not judged on which side he was on at the sounding of the final whistle but on one who is her “father”, provider and one who loves her unconditionally.  The love is likewise returned. She is undoubtedly more crucial and cherishedl than a cup to be passed from hand to hand, team to team, year to year.  In this child, in this picture is life and all that is meaningful therein.

andy1

Photo taken by www.advertiser.ie (Galway Advertiser)

The second photo is of Dublin’s Bernard Brogan,reaching out to place his open hand on the top of the little girl’s head.  Andy is now standing, smiling as he watches this gesture. To me, the Dublin man is saying “be proud, very proud of your father. I’ve given everything I have over the last seventy and more minutes to hold him back, to beat his team but you have a father to be proud of there.” I’d like to think that somewhere deep within, he might even feel a tinge of regret for Andy and his team mates but more than that, it’s a gesture that says when the game is over, life goes on and must be cherished.  It’s moment that speaks of a respect between players, even when on opposite teams, maybe especially when on opposite teams.

At Mass today, St Paul tells Timothy to “fan into a flame” the gift God has given him.  He’s told it’s not a spirit of “timidity” but one rooted in love and self-control.  I’d like to think the Mayo team might hear those words and recognise deeply the gift so obviously given to its players.  May the fanning into flame commence and may “the fans” breathe life into that flame.

“A year til Sunday”

Up For The Match

Up For The Match

It’s All-Ireland Sunday. I’m just in from Mass with a heavily depleted congregation.  I wasn’t surprised of course.  Many of the locals have begun the journey to Croke Park in the hope of being there “on the day Mayo won the Sam Maguire” for the first time since 1951.  A lifetime (literally for many) has passed in the hope of this day being realised.  As a Sligo man living in Mayo, I hope – truly hope – this is their day.

I borrowed a Mayo Jersey with the firm intention of wearing it to Mass today and, at the end of Mass, removing my vestments to reveal my support for the county. I even thought of having a sweeping brush at hand and saying that Rochford wanted me as a “sweeper” (I know …..)  I believe people should smile everyday and, in particular, on a day when there’s an expectation of something special in the air.  My hope was that people would go home smiling and that the smile would evoke a memory and the memory would include Church and that “church” would be a reminder of faith and that faith would do the rest ……

I looked at the the Mayo Jersey this morning and I couldn’t put it on.  It’s not that I haven’t respect for the Jersey or the Green and Red of Mayo but they’re not my colours.  I grew up with the Black and White of Sligo and though we haven’t had much success, the roots are there and the hope remains that someday it might, just might, happen!  I left the Mayo Jersey where it was.  In truth the colours belong to the county and its people and, much and all as I support and wish the team well today, they didn’t seem to be at home with me.

It’s incredible this loyalty to the county.  There’s none of the rivalry that has potential for fights or tension but there remains nonetheless a healthy rivalry.  When the Championship started and Sligo was in the mix, my absolute hope was that they’d get to and win the Connaught Title.

That didn’t happen.  When Galway beat Mayo in that final, I can’t pretend that I was smothered in grief for I thought the change was no bad thing. When Mayo made it back through the qualifiers I was glad for the team and am 100% behind them today. The roots are there though – in the “Land of Heart’s Desire”.

It will be quite a spectacle later with more than 80,000 people in Croke Park and millions watching at home and around the world.  There will be handshakes and photographs, jostling and heaving, pushing and shoving all in the name of sport and in the pursuit of a dream.  The dream of an All-Ireland Medal and the glorious satisfaction that comes with knowing you’ve made it to the top of your game.  I’ve never played football, well never in anything resembling a serious game, but I admire those who give so much of their time, talents, energy and commitment to a sport that enthralls so many.

So I’m “up for the match” and hope it will be a great day for Mayo and the West.  I don’t think I’ll wear the jersey but I have the “Green and Red” plaited cord a child handed me in school the other day.  I’ll keep that in the car:)

___________________________________

PS:  Let it be very clear, I have nothing against Dublin.  It’s certain the present team is out on its own but I think a loss today wouldn’t set it back “light years”!!!

___________________________________

Just decided to give it a go!!  This is how I’d have looked.  Do I manage the Mayo Look??

mayoday

As the sun set

As the sun set

On Tuesday evening I was leaving Urlaur Church after Mass and noticed a lovely sunset so went as quickly as I could to Urlaur Abbey and Lake.  Most of these photos are from that journey!  There’s another from the following evening, taken in Naomh Mobhi Cemetery, Kilmovee.  Just thought I’d share!

RSS
Follow by Email
WhatsApp