JOE BROLLY: The Monday and Tuesday club

BEFORE the Ulster Championship matches at the weekend, I got a text from Ruaidhri Currie, a good Rossa man. “Going to have a flutter. Loughmacrory or Kilcoo? Newbridge or Madden?”

I texted back, “Kilcoo and Newbridge. Winning the county championship was the other two’s wildest dreams fulfilled. Impossible for them to adjust their sights to Ulster. Their Monday Club would have been Monday, Tuesday and maybe Wednesday.”

He texted back, “Are you sure?” I said, “Yes, as Ireland’s foremost GAA pundit, I advise you to break open the piggy bank.” He sent me back the middle finger.

As was inevitable, the two Ulster newcomers looked as though they had turned up by mistake. They played like All-Ireland winners at the charity match on the Wednesday after the final. Both started with the false enthusiasm of teams that know they are supposed to be taking it seriously, that a big crowd has turned up and that they are on telly.

A bit of sprinting about, a few scores, then suddenly realising they had no emotional commitment to the game. The only way it would have been any different was if Madden and Loughmacrory had been paired.

On the Sunday night of the county final, the senior team parades the town, usually on the back of a lorry, unless it is Goldman Sachs Kilmacud Croke’s, who have their own luxury double-decker with a dining room and waiters.

By the time all of the public rigmarole is done, Sunday is over, which means Monday is the first real celebration for the players as a group. If the Monday Club is damaging enough for the human liver, as Mickey Hegarty from Donegal said about the Tuesday club, “only a dog goes drinking on a Tuesday.”

When we won the All-Ireland, there being no world championship, there was nothing left to do. We arrived in Dungiven on the Tuesday. The clubhouse was thronged. At around midnight, Joe O’Neill, God rest him, philosopher and owner of Joe’s Bar on the Main Street, led us down the street to his, as he put it, “modest west bank establishment.” When he reached the front door, he flung it open dramatically and said “Gentlemen. Welcome to reality.”

Joe, who was extremely learned and an excellent scholar in his youth, then signalled for order. When the bar went quiet (Joe was always worth shutting up for), he began, stretching his arm out like a great theatrical actor. “When Alexander The Great looked around his empire, he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer. Tonight, as you look around you, you too have no more worlds to conquer. However, this is not an occasion for weeping. It is an occasion for drinking. Gentlemen, the bar is yours.”

At which a huge roar went up. We were still there at noon on the Wednesday, by which time Tony Scullion had his shirt on backways and Fergal McCusker was asleep under a table with coats over him.

In 1985, Glenullin won the Derry Championship with a series of ferocious displays, including beating Dungiven to deny us the fabled three in-a-row. The Glenullin boys were unused to such success and unsure how to react. The Colorado (since gone) was the only bar in the village, an appropriate name for this outpost of the wild west.

On the Monday, the Glenullin players rang the Dungiven clubhouse and invited our county stars Brian McGilligan, Plunket Murphy and Liam McElhinney down to join them. After a bit of a discussion along the lines of “Can we trust those hoors?” they decided to bring George Murphy with them for a bit of added protection. They arrived into the Colorado and got a big cheer which relaxed them. Soon after they were in a flotilla of cars heading for Maguire’s in Garvagh.

The Dungiven boys magnanimously (more tactically) filled the cup. “Everything seemed fine” said McElhinney. But as Glenullin great Dermot McNicholl put it, “outsiders coming in to drink with us boys was a bit like drinking with Joe Pesci.” Out of nothing, one of the Glen men delivered a karate kick at McGilligan and all hell broke loose. “It was like Custer’s Last Stand, Brolly. Our backs were against the wall. They were coming at us like Zulus and we were hitting everything that moved.” said McGilligan.

“Tell me more Brian.” “No, I’m telling you nothing Brolly for you’ll only write it in the paper.” “Go on, it’s only fun and it’s nearly 40 years ago now.” (pause). “All I’ll say Brolly is that we gave a good account of ourselves let me tell you. A very very good account of ourselves.”

Nor could I get anything out of the other three. All Liam McElhinney would say was “I remember very little about it Joe. I was steaming.” Big Plunkett said “Ask McGilligan.” George was unavailable for comment. Suffice to say, Glenullin lost the first round in Ulster.

Madden and Loughnamcrory know the feeling.