ARMAGH had played their first game against Galway as though the old rules still applied, in line with a school of thought that was popular before the league started that the new game only required a tweak of the old one. As one inter-county coach said to me, “We think we can still make do with 11 defenders.” Armagh tried that against Galway and were blown away. At the weekend, against Tyrone, they went boldly where no current Armagh footballer has ever gone before – into the past, and they were sensational. Long kicking, fast counter attacking, high catching, fighting furiously around the middle for the breaking ball, man marking football, and it was glorious.

The basic problem with the McGuinness formula was that it removed the best and most essential part of the sport. It removed the chaos. Jimmy taught us that almost everything could be controlled, that careful rehearsal could avoid contests and competition and all the other messy stuff that made the game unpredictable. Gaelic football became as cautious as a nun in a pub. As safe as the 30mph zone in an alcohol free village.

In our first game, like Armagh, Derry played the old game. We dropped back and allowed Tyrone to take short kick outs. We played a zonal defence. We handpassed the ball forward slowly and set up our attack in the old fashion. And we got walloped. On Sunday, in Celtic Park against Kerry we were forced to face the new reality. We pressed the Kerry kick out, forcing them to kick long and into the chaos. We moved the ball forward at speed. We took risks.

We played with adventure and passion. What transpired was one of the most brilliant games of football ever played in the city. It was absolutely electrifying in a way we haven’t seen since Enda Muldoon and the boys were making a full house ooh and aah. The crowd, mostly silent during the McGuinness era, was going wild. We were totally engaged throughout. We lost in the end, but who cares? When football is played like this, it is the best game in the world.

Donegal were the big disappointment of the weekend: Still refusing to kick the ball, still refusing to take risks. Looking like a mere tweak away from what they were last year, they produced another boring spectacle. Dublin, who haven’t been much better in their use of the new rules, contributed to the only truly boring game I have seen in the last fortnight. Handpass, solo, handpass back, solo, handpass to the sideline, solo, handpass back, solo.

The truth was in the atmosphere – a quiet crowd, the odd cheer, but mostly chatting among themselves. What a disappointment. If we speculated that Jimmy would embrace the new rules and create something full of imagination and excitement, the early signs are not good. Once a dictator, always a dictator? His success stemmed from absolute control of the players and the method of play. Like Stalin, he forbade individual expression, even down to confiscating players’ mobile phones. Trust for him has never been a two way street. The players must of course give him their absolute trust and obedience, regardless of how extreme his requirements become. But in return, Jimmy’s trust in them is transactional – do exactly as I say or you will be banished. Ask Kevin Cassidy.

Aside from that game, the others have been terrific. Chaos, unpredictability, great entertainment, emancipated players finally expressing themselves. The penny is dropping that the only way to play these new rules is to play the game. When the final whistle went in Celtic Park, I imagined Jim Gavin sitting in a hot tub somewhere, sipping champagne, smoking a fine Havana and saying to himself, “I love it when a plan comes together.”