Column: It’s the hope that kills you

By Niall Gartland

IT’S the hope that kills you, it really is. I greeted Tyrone’s championship defeats to Kerry in 2023 and 2025 with a metaphorical shrug of the shoulder. The lads gave it a crack, it wasn’t good enough, C’est la vie. What can ye do, basically. Saturday was a different experience entirely. A rollercoaster of emotions, so it was.

But anyway, first things first, I didn’t head down to Croke Park in a WJ Dolan jersey. I was there in my capacity as a member of the fourth estate – la de da. My mission, should I choose to accept it, was to pen a match report for the Tyrone Herald, a sister paper of Gaelic Life. I’d watch the game, scribble a bunch of mostly legible notes while doing my level best to focus on the action in front of me, then rattle out a thousand words of the most distinguished prose thereafter.

I probably do take it for granted at this stage that I get to do this for a living. A press pass is a golden ticket to big games at Croke Park, and on occasion it does feel like just another day at the office. A long day as well; I got home after midnight after Saturday’s game because there’s a fair bit of loitering around trying to get interviews. Then there’s the walk back to the car, the traffic, the pit-stops and all the rest of it.

There was something special about Tyrone’s latest joust with the Kingdom though. From early doors it was evident that the Red Hands weren’t there to make up the numbers. As classy as it was, David Clifford’s goal was a real kick in the teeth, but Tyrone were undeterred and trailed by only a couple of points at the break. They probably should have been level at the very least – seven wides in the first half would prove costly in the final reckoning.

I don’t often get to witness Kerry in the flesh and to be fair they have some incredible footballers in their ranks.

Clifford is virtually unmarkable – he’s so fast for a big man and only needs a split-second – while Dylan Geaney put on a clinic. Paudie Clifford is less overtly remarkable, and sometimes he draws the ire of opposition fans as he’s a bit of a terrier on the pitch, but Christ what a player.

A human metronome and I didn’t realise that he’s so adept from the dead ball. His two 45s sailed over the bar. That those three players combined for a grand total of 1-19 says it all about their influence.

It wasn’t enough to dismantle Tyrone though. The Red Hands played well in the previous championship outings and warranted their place in the last-eight, but this was the first time in years that they looked like they belonged in that elite bracket of the top three or four teams in the country. There was nothing ponderous about their play – they kicked the ball, went for the jugular and young lads like Eoin McElholm, Ronan Cassidy and Joey Clarke showed they’re made for this level.

There were braveheart performances likewise from Mattie Donnelly, Conn Kilpatrick, Kieran McGeary – all those usual suspects who never yield an inch. Darren McCurry was sensational when sprung from the bench.

I’m thinking of starting a petition for all the lads to return for 2027. The team’s most experienced player, Mattie Donnelly, barely put a foot wrong all afternoon. Paudie Clifford sought him out after the game to exchange jerseys and while it’s easy to be magnanimous in victory, that moment says it all about Donnelly’s wider standing in the game.

Then there was the referee. It’s easy to get swept along in the tsunami of criticism levelled at Paddy Neilan, but to be fair, during the game itself I was feeling rather hard done-by as a Tyrone supporter with a notepad. A couple of decisions were particularly consequential – the phantom 45, the decision to bring forward a Kerry ‘mark’ – and in combination it meant that Tyrone were always chasing the game.

And when David Clifford got his hands on a restart with less than a minute remaining, my heart sank. That was always going to be that. One that got away, and I felt gutted after the game. Yes, there were so many positives from a Tyrone perspective but it still felt like a sliding-doors moment – had they won, there was every chance of marching on to a fifth All-Ireland title. I suppose that’s the nature of the beast, but sure there’s always next year…