I have always looked back on the 1970s with a sense of wonder. The summers seemed to be longer, and sunnier. It was a time when we felt less connected to the outside world, although the passing of Elvis impacted us all.
The world is a smaller place now. What happens in New York can impact us within minutes. For everything we needed back then, we looked within our own communities. Small things mattered more. We were the centre of our own universe.
In terms of sport, there seemed little to be excited by in Connacht. Mayo went the entire decade without winning even a Connacht title; Galway started the decade with a good team in decline after the exploits of the previous era. Sligo won a title in ‘75 but that was the limit of their ambitions; and at the end, Roscommon produced a team that threatened to win, but failed to do so.
I recall Sundays especially, and remember there were no intercounty games on Saturdays back then. Everything had a time and a place. Sunday had Mass. The Saturday evening iteration had not yet come into existence. At Mass, you met everyone, and afterwards you milled around the churchyard and chatted. Then you got an armful of Sunday papers for the lucrative Spot The Ball competitions and headed home for a dinner of chops, potatoes, and marrowfat peas which had been soaking overnight in a saucepan in the scullery.
Sundays were a time of solitude and quiet. So quiet that the only sounds, that of the radio and TV broadcasts shattered this and formed for themselves an indelible place in our memories, the roar of O’Hehir in an era dominated by the Dubs and Kerry.
It was a simpler time, but also a sad time. We knew there had to be more to us; a greater expression of what we could do and say.
It was into this world that John O’Mahony landed in our subconscious. A decorated minor and U-21 player, his time with Mayo seniors was shorter than it should have been. A man of great perception and sensitivity, he was no doubt impacted in 1976 by the tragedy of the passing of the great Mayo player and hope Ted Webb. Hours before Webb died when his car was struck by a train after a late night errand to give his uncle a lift home, he had travelled home from Mayo training with O’Mahony and others. That earlier journey had seen their car skid into a ditch, but no harm was caused and they continued on their merry way.
How often did the others in that car think that if the earlier crash had been more significant, would it have altered the tragic timeline of that evening...and perhaps of the sporting decade.
Thirteen years later when Mayo reached their first All-Ireland Final since 1951, he brought belief to a side and a county that had been starved. He gave us all a reason to believe, to find the joy in our outward expression. It was the beginning of the Mayo mania that has lasted to this day. When he drove Leitrim to an unbelievable Connacht title five years later, he showed the transferability of his motivational skills. He brought whole counties with him and when the Galway GAA’s Pat Egan dialled his number, the synergies seemed limitless.
His arrival in Galway coincided with the development of a golden generation of players just waiting to be coached and motivated, shaped and driven to the extent of their potential. This is the biggest day of your lives, he told his players at halftime in that ‘98 final. Now, make sure it is the best day of your lives. Finals by their nature fly by and unless you grab them, they overtake you and smother you with declining time. So many finals have passed great players by. It was up to the best managers and players to stop time, to assess where you are and to act upon it. Galway did that on that September day in ‘98...and in the process, he carved for himself a place in the heart of every Galway person.
John O’Mahony was a travelling magician who brought hope to all our counties at different times, because he believed in the collective power of endeavour and contentment too; to extract the maximum from the resources; to take on the might of the powerhouses in the other provinces and to make a mark as a wonderful Connachtman.
To his family, we thank you for the time you shared him with us; those long nights, those neverending journeys to and from training sessions and matches. For allowing him to be among us at this time.
How fitting it is that this summer Galway have once again found their mojo. I hope that the many reflections of that golden Galway era from 1998 to 2001 will inspire our heroes when they take the field against Donegal on Sunday afternoon.
May you rest in peace, Johno... you have stirred the hearts of us all. Enjoy the game, Sunday...
