“Oh Jesus” said my wife when the Mayo team ran out, “They look like Kildare.” When they started off playing like them, we worried this was going to be the greatest catastrophe in the history of All-Ireland finals.

When David Clifford scored one of his improbable goals in the 15th minute and Sean O’Shea followed up with a point a minute later to make it 1-5 to 0-1, we shook our heads sadly and said Oh dearie dearie me. Kerry, thinking Mayo were no good and the game would be a formality, switched off.

Meanwhile, Mayo were suddenly cloaked in the delightful glow of the confident underdog. Having lost six of their first eight kick outs, having kicked four balls into the Kerry keeper’s hands and looking gripped in terror, they suddenly looked bigger, faster and better than Kerry, except for David Clifford. He had scored 1-2 with his first three touches and as the glamorous brunette said at half time, “Thanks be to the good God they have stopped passing him the ball.”

It was fascinating to see the Kerry wheels coming off. It started with Tom O’Sullivan casually kicking two horrendous wides. Then Jack Carney kicked a massive two pointer. Two minutes later, Ryan O’Donoghue hammered the first Mayo grappling iron into the mountain side, kicking a two pointer that was already starting to feel like a definitive contribution.

“Can you feel the vibe?” I said to the glamorous brunette. “I can,” she said “but don’t curse us.” When Sam Callinan, who never scores points, scored a point in the 29th minute, Mayo were only two points behind. From the short kick out, ferocious Mayo pressure forced an over carry and when Darragh Beirne tapped over the easy free, it was a point. More ferocious Mayo tackling a minute later forced another turnover and Tommy Conroy scored the equaliser.

Kerry reached half-time a point ahead but it felt as though they were done. When a team switches off psychologically, it is virtually impossible to switch on again. Meanwhile, Mayo were like the marine on the Normandy beach who gets hit in the helmet with a German bullet. He takes his helmet off, checks his head, cannot believe he is still alive and in the lightness of mood that follows a near death experience, goes on to become a war hero.

Jack O’Connor kept the Kerry men in the changing room long after the Mayo boys had come out for the second half. But by then, the hair dryer was useless. Kobe casually kicked a 45 and a moment later, when the brilliant Darragh Beirne scored a great goal from another Kerry turnover (Gavin White handpassed the ball over David Clifford’s head) the GAA world was in raptures. Sean O’Shea kicked a bad wide under no pressure. Mayo, voracious now and happy, unself conscious and unworried, scored another two pointer through Carney and the roar could be heard in space.

When we played in the final, the legendary Sean O’Neill from Down summoned me to the sideline just after we had run out on the field. Sean could do things like that.

He said, “Now young man. You are going into a tunnel. You are ready for this. Nothing else matters. Come out at the end of that tunnel with an All-Ireland medal.”

Kerry looked ordinary now. Apart from Clifford. When he brought his tally to 1-4 from play in the 50th minute to bring Kerry to within two points, we thought the game was afoot.

But Mayo were in that tunnel Sean O’Neill spoke of, oblivious to the outside world or the vastness of the prize. Ryan O’Donoghue kicked a superb two pointer to put them five up in the 62nd minute. Then Jason Foley kicked a ball over the sideline under no pressure.

Now, we were clock watching. The only question now was: Could David Clifford beat Mayo? When he kicked a stupendous two pointer off his right foot in the 66th minute, a frisson of terror passed over us that there might be a draw and replay. When the God of football kicked a two pointer wide in the 68th minute and Sean O’Sé kicked another wide a minute later, it was finally, miraculously done.

Not enough

All that was left standing for Kerry was David Clifford and for once it was not enough.

Andy Moran’s vision was back to the future. We used to tackle the full backs furiously. Now that they can’t even pass back to the keeper it was a gift that no one other than Andy appreciated. Because we have gotten so used to the opposing forwards dropping off and playing a hybrid zonal man to man system full backs are completely unused to being tackled. With this simple strategy, Mayo caused Kerry to disintegrate.

We saw David Clifford standing inside one v one waving his arm in the air, but the Kerry outfielders couldn’t see him as they were totally absorbed in the enormous pressure they were under. Earlier in the year, when Kerry, Donegal then Roscommon in the championship destroyed Mayo, we shook our heads and said the high press would never work. Now, we will begin copying it.

My wife wept uncontrollably in my arms at the final whistle. The last time she wept was when our daughter Lola was born. “I wish my father was alive to see it, ” she sobbed. I thought of Brendan Blewitt painting the sidelines of the first Knockmore pitch.

Of him mowing the field and standing with a bucket collecting the punts on match day. I looked around at a sea of Mayo people weeping and embracing.

When we won the All-Ireland my late father said he could die happy now. It was only today that I finally understood what he meant.