MAYO, the last sorrowful mystery. When Joe Biden shouted “Mayo for Sam” in 2023, the people of Mayo interpreted this as the banishment of the curse. In hindsight, it only made things worse.

In Ancient Greece, Sisyphus squealed on Zeus, the king of the Gods. Zeus had taken a shine to a young lady, and being that he was the boss, he took her in the middle of the night. Sisyphus saw the abduction and told her distraught father, who arrived at Zeus’ door not one bit happy.

As a punishment, Zeus cursed him to roll an immense boulder up a hill for all eternity. Every time the exhausted Sisyphus neared the crest of the hill, within inches of being released from his purgatory, the boulder would escape from his grasp and roll back down the hill again. Mayo have been rolling boulders up the hill for 74 years now, getting within inches of the top. They are a superpower of Gaelic football who have beaten everyone on the way to the final. But not in the final.

In the 2021 semi-final, Mayo played Dublin, who had won 45 championship matches in a row and six consecutive All-Irelands.

Dave Gill, a friend of mine from Ballina who suffers from MHOS (Mayo Hopeless Optimist Syndrome), an incurable genetic condition that affects most of the population of Mayo, had €20 on Mayo to win. When I told him he might as well have fired the €20 onto the street outside his café, he said, “You’ll see.”

By half time, the score was Dublin 0-10, Mayo 0-4. When Dave texted me to say, “Have just put another €20 on Mayo.” I texted back 10 laughy faces. Mayo won and were absolutely cock a hoop when a makeshift Tyrone somehow came through the other side of the draw.

A fortnight later, the worst team ever to win an All-Ireland were parading through Tyrone in disbelief, on an open topped bus, waving Sam Maguire around. “We couldn’t believe we got Mayo,” said Kieran McGeary afterwards.

“You put your winnings from the semi-final on Mayo?” I said to Dave. “I did,” he said, shaking his head sadly. “I should have f***ing known.”

That’s the thing about MHOS. Sufferers don’t know. They cannot, since they are unaware they suffer from it. To outsiders, this seems cruel. But Mayo folk are oblivious.

When a Kiltimagh farmer is painting his sheep red and green on the eve of an All-Ireland final, he is filled with euphoria, certain in the knowledge that come Monday, Mayo will be champions and his sheep will bleat triumphantly as the Mayo bus motors past on its way to the victory celebrations in MacHale Park. When they are beaten, he promptly forgets and looks forward to painting his sheep again next year.

The Cavan defeat was the lowest point for Mayo football in the modern era. No one could quite believe it. So foregone was the conclusion that not even GAA+ screened it.

Typical of Mayo, they went out the next day against Tyrone in Omagh and as is often the case with them when they are underdogs, they gleefully walloped them, playing with absolute self-assurance.

Donegal, meanwhile, went back to their destructively efficient selves, putting 35 points on Cavan.

Everyone knew that Tyrone would beat Cavan. Tomás Ó Sé told me once that whenever Kerry lost an All-Ireland, the players didn’t leave the house for a month, since losing an All-Ireland final is simply unacceptable in the Kingdom. In Tyrone, losing to Cavan would be grounds for deportation. This is because Tyrone are serious about football. It is fundamental to who they are.

Mayo, on the other hand, are not. Their culture is one of personalities and sponsorships and autographs. The weekend of the Donegal game, the squad stayed in the lavish Mount Falcon country estate outside Ballina, a 55-mile journey to Hyde Park. When they lose, it does not seem to matter. Selfies, autographs, the adulation of their superfans. As Martin Carney said recently, the sort of fans that would climb Mount Everest naked waving a Mayo flag.

They are totally unpredictable because they are reliant on big individual performances and the underdog vibe. They also have a major structural problem, which has dogged them since they arrived on the scene in 2011.

Their game-plan is based on hard solo running and hand-passing out of the defence, with their half-backs constantly attacking. Lee Keegan, Colm Boyle, Paddy Durcan (man of the match against Tyrone with three points) etc. In the Tyrone game, for example, their defenders and midfielders outscored their forwards from play. Ryan O’Donoghue scored 1-6, but 1-5 of those were from placed balls.

Their system means that the ball is only getting to the forwards late, when the opposing defence is set, which in turn means that there has been a revolving door on the sideline for good Mayo forwards.

Only O’Donoghue, because of his extraordinary mental toughness and the fact that he is the free taker, is an ever present. The rest are never sure whether they are going to play or not. When they are picked, they are playing under the constant anxiety of being substituted at any moment

Mayo’s lack of seriousness was exemplified by the finale of the Donegal game. Donegal perform at roughly the same standard regardless of the opposition or the occasion. Mentally, they are secure in the knowledge that if they all do their jobs, that will almost always be enough for them to succeed.

Mayo, on the other hand, are not. They are giddy and emotional and easily carried away. When Mayo kicked the equalising score with 15 seconds to go, they punched the air and celebrated.

Meanwhile Shaun Patton, concentrating only on creating the winning score, quickly placed the ball on the spot and launched a guided missile 55 metres to the left touchline. Mayo did not tactically foul, or even challenge the kick. It was moved on to Ciarán Moore. Again, from a position of no danger he was not fouled or stopped up. Instead, he was allowed to solo through and tap over the winning point from 25 metres.

At the final whistle, the Donegal men sprinted into the changing room to avoid the crowds, Michael Murphy leading the charge. Aidan O’Shea meanwhile, who was nowhere to be seen during the game, signed autographs for a full 20 minutes. Showbiz, not serious football.

Fortunately, MHOS means that their humiliation has already been forgotten about in Mayo. Red and green paint at the ready. Mayo for Sam, 2026.