As the title suggests, this part of my website deals with Westmeath GAA (Football, Irish style for those who are not in the know). The picture shows the Westmeath (on the left) and Laois teams before the start of the Leinster senior football championship final on Sunday 17 July 2004. The following week, on the so-called ‘freedom day’ of 24 July 2004, Westmeath ended a 120-year wait by beating Laois and becoming Leinster champions for the first time. This is my version of events leading up to, and following, that date.

To put the GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) in perspective, about 56,000 people were standing when this photo was taken, at the end of a minute’s silence for a player who should have played the day before in another match, but was killed in a car crash. Immediately afterwards, those same 56,000 people stood for our national anthem.

This photo was taken in Croke Park, undoubtedly the main stadium used by the GAA, with its capacity of about 80,000 people. To the left of this picture is the Canal End, and to the right, out of picture, is Hill 16. Hill 16 was built with the rubble taken from the GPO, after the 1916 Rising, when Ireland basically told England to fuck off, and England replied by reducing central Dublin to ruins. On top of the Hill is the original flag raised over the GPO on Easter Sunday, 1916, when certain Republicans declared Irish independence, and were shot for their troubles. To commemorate the Irish response, which brought England to its knees, the wreckage of the GPO was brought to the site for the new national stadium, and the flag which flew over the GPO for three bloody days was raised over that stadium, as a reminder of just what those people died for.

From a sporting perspective, the All-Ireland football championship is somewhat odd in that Ireland is divided into four provinces, which stage their own championships, namely Connaught to the west, Ulster to the north, Munster to the south, and Leinster to the east. Losers in these provincials championships enter the qualifiers, from which four teams will finally advance to the All-Ireland championship- along with the four provincial champions. In 120 years, Westmeath had played in one Leinster final, and one all-Ireland quarter final. That final had been 55 years before.

The route to Croke Park and the Leinster final began against Offlay, ironically in Croke Park, where Westmeath would play all their matches that year. To Westmeath people in general, Offlay are one of the great rivals, sitting on Westmeath’s southern borders. Offlay were dispatched with a one-point win, but only at the massive cost of having a key player, Rory O’Connell, suspended for stamping. From my perspective, I am a BIFFO, or a big ignorant fucker from Offlay, as Westmeath people call us. I may live in Westmeath, and support their team, but I was born in Offlay- a point I was not let forget when Westmeath beat Offlay in the championship for the first time in 55 years.

Unlike some sports, i.e. soccer, there is no violence between GAA fans. Lots of Offlay people live or work in Westmeath, and vice versa. The abuse these people receive is always ferocious, but in the spirit of fun. For example, in 2001, during the so-called ‘summer of romance’, when Westmeath blazed a path through the championships and played Meath in the quarter-finals, Meath fans hung a banner on the border between the two counties, reading ‘This way to Croke Park, for those people who haven’t been there before’. Westmeath fans replied by hanging the famous maroon-and-white of the romantics over the sign marking the entry to Meath. By the way, the term ‘the romantics’ was coined by a reporter who commented on the hordes of Westmeath people, sometimes nearly 80 percent of the 50,000 population of the county, who followed the team to each game. More commonly known as the Lakers, or the Lake County, Westmeath lost in a replay to Meath, and every Westmeath person (or so it seemed) stopped in Meath to sing and dance for most of that night.

In 1999, when Westmeath humbled Kerry to win their first major all-Ireland, hundreds of people in Offlay hung Westmeath flags outside their houses, and in Tullamore (the capital town of Offlay) the locals lined the streets to cheer as Westmeath, and their supporters, returned home. This despite the fact that Offlay and Westmeath are ‘bitter rivals’.

From my perspective, three things stand out form that summer in 1999. Firstly, in the All-Ireland U-21 semi-final, against Monaghan, when the stewards and police around the Westmeath fans lined up to shake our hands as we left, while congratulating us on support that bordered on the most fanatical behaviour they had ever seen, yet never caused the police any trouble. Secondly, when myself and the mates tried to get me from Westmeath to Limerick on Saturday, and back to Waterford on Sunday, for my last college exam. The only way I could do it was to travel home on Saturday, and on to Waterford on Sunday- leaving me almost no time for any study. As I remarked to my parents, I could always repeat an exam, but Westmeath had waited 115 years for this day, and nothing was stopping me from seeing it.

My mother later showed me a recording of the commentator crying after Westmeath crushed Kerry, and remarked that she could see why so many people would regard going to Limerick as being a pilgrimage. My third great memory from that particular summer is probably of a penalty kick in the last few minutes of the match.

Kerry, the champions for four of the past five years, beaten once in that time (in the final), were losing by one point to Westmeath, the underdogs, in (I think) their second final in 115 years. With five minutes to go, the Westmeath keeper hauled down a Kerry player to give the Kingdom a penalty- worth three points. After the immediate reaction (ah fuck me pink, a penalty), the whole stadium fell silent. In this deathly, total silence the referee blew his whistle, and I knew absolutely nothing else until this total stranger practically flattened me while screaming ‘We’re gonna be champions’. Within a minute, the stewards had opened the gates leading onto the pitch, and Westmeath fans were lining up, waiting for a monster of a pitch invasion. The first steward to open a gate was charged by the GAA with negligence, and defended himself by showing footage of the Westmeath fans streaming onto the sidelines, and waiting for the end of the game. Needless to add, all charges against him were dropped.

As if it matters, the Westmeath keeper deflected the ball wide, and Kerry were beaten by one point. The last five minutes of that match were sort of a dream, with grown men in tears, and a constant barrage of Westmeath chants raining down on the heads of Kerry fans who were already leaving.

Even better was the trip home, knowing that Westmeath could not be beaten. Anything became an excuse for singing. On the way down, we had asked the bus driver if we could play… strange… music. Now, everyone knows private bus companies employ 80-year-old cantankerous bastards, so we were not hopeful. As the oldest, and thus most respectable, of us, I was shoved forward to put the suggestion to him that we listen to ‘modern’ music for the next four hours while crammed in a sardine can on wheels.

“HUH??? Waddaya want???MUSIC?? Fuck me purple, what sorta music?’ “Well, Carnival d’Paris, music from 32 different countries. It was played at the world cup in 1998”. There was a suspicious pause. “Is it … soccer music??” “ Fuck, no.”. Another pause, a scratch of an ear… ‘Well, fucking hell, play it as loud as ya can, ya fucking gobshite”.

So, after bouncing down the road to Limerick, we all had the enjoyable prospect of hours in a minibus, with a loony driver, all the way back to Westmeath. This was our lot until the so-called summer of romance in 2001, and that gut-wrenchingly bad, but also insanely great day at Croke Park when the maroon-and-white-clad dream was not to be. As we left Croke Park, knowing that, in all probability the impossible dream expressed by the acronym WM SAM 2001 (Westmeath to win the ALL-Ireland in 2001) was over, we were infuriated, but passing into Westmeath, and seeing those people who had not gone to Croke park, but who were now lining the roads of Westmeath to welcome those who had back home, we realized that Westmeath had been one kick of the ball away from ending 117 years of utter anguish.

On the way to Croke Park, a Scottish guy had asked me to explain the importance of the match. I told him that this was the quarter-final of the championship. There was nothing more important in the GAA. Westmeath were playing Meath, one of the most successful teams in history. Westmeath had never even played in a semi-final in the 117-year history of the championship, let alone won it. In 19 matches (as it was then) between the two teams, Westmeath had lost 18, and drawn once. Meath were expected to win by at least ten points. I remember his utterly shocked expression as he says ‘So, you’re really only going to this match in hope, rather than expecting a win?’. I replied that it was hope that got Westmeath this far, and it could be hope that would get us further.

The ‘summer of romance’ as it was called ended in spectacular fashion with a crushing defeat in a replay, after Westmeath once led by nine points against the hated Meath.

Westmeath missed a chance to equalize in the last few minutes, and from that missed penalty, Meath ran the full length of the pitch and scored the goal that ended Westmeath’s great dream. At the final whistle, myself and the mates were standing in total silence, musing on the end of that dream, but also thinking about the teams that had been dispatched en route to that match.

So much for 2001. After the horrors of September 11, 2001, and news that a close friend of mine would undergo heart surgery in August 2004, we all hoped that football could be put in its place, as a boost for this friend before he underwent rather serious surgery. I’ve been escorted from the pitch by police (at the start of a match), and warned about my conduct, but I am far less of a fan than this guy. If Westmeath could humiliate Leinster, and send this mate to the operating theatre with memories of champions, we would all be happy.

After beating Offlay by one point, Westmeath were rubbished by the so-called experts. Next up were Dublin. Dublin were another of the great teams, and Westmeath would go to Croke Park, in Dublin, as the underdogs. We made one promise: the maroon-and-white of the Lake County would march on Dublin in droves, and the blue of the so-called Metropolitans would be swamped by us. In an insane game, Westmeath blitzed Dublin in the last few minutes, to draw level in the last minute of the match, and score twice in stoppage time. I wanted to take a picture of the people on the pitch, but got this classic of a Dublin fan sitting in front of me, just as he realized that Westmeath had ended Dublin’s assault on the Leinster Championship.

Next stop for the Westmeath bandwagon was the Leinster semi-final, for the first time in my lifetime, and a match against Wexford. Wexford, a small team like Westmeath, were swept aside in a match where Westmeath didn’t impress, but did enough to leave no real doubt of who the winner would be. Around this time, certain things would take place that would have a major bearing on Westmeath’s first Leinster final in 55 years.

In the other semi-final, Laois, the champions, would stamp all over Meath, so denying Westmeath the chance to win Leinster, and beat Meath, both for the first time, on the same day. Rory O’Connell, banned in the first round against Offlay, for stamping, would be cleared in the High Court, after Westmeath provided evidence from the player who was allegedly stamped on, showing that O’Connell had not stamped on that player, or any player. TV evidence was inconclusive, and so Westmeath got a huge boost before the final.

The build-up to a final of this magnitude is unbelievable. Everyone talks about the match. Everyone collects newspaper articles, or at least reads them. Everyone is glued to any TV coverage of the match. Every few days there are rumours of injuries, and bad form in training. Traveling to any match is always good, but we all wanted group photos before this match. It was not to be, but at least this is part of our group before the LSFC final against Laois.

This picture is one that many people have seen, as most Westmeath fans pass this point on the way to Croke Park. With a capacity of about 82,000 people, and rising, Croker is intimidating. Better yet is the roar that reverberates around Dublin, as the minor match, before the LSFC, takes place.

Although this picture was taken during the semi-final against Dublin, it gives an idea of what Croke Park is like during a big game. In front of a crowd like this, in a replay, Westmeath failed to score in the first 27 minutes of the game against Laois. In the remaining eight minutes between then and half-time, Westmeath came from six points down to lead by seven. During about the last 25 minutes of the 35 in the second half, Westmeath also failed to score, but did enough to be leading by three points at the start of about five minutes of stoppage time.

At this stage I remarked that the referee would play for a draw, as he had done in the first match. Some irritating Laois supporters, seated in front of us, were… irked… by my remark. Sadly, they weren’t sufficiently motivated to control their ignorant SOB of a son, whom I felt like beating the shite out of during the match.

Mind you, we all fell silent when Laois got a free kick on the edge of the box, in the last minute or so. A goal would bring Laois level, and anything else would send Westmeath back west as champions. A mate of mine remarked that, if Laois equalized, he would jump from the top of the Cusack Stand, where we were seated. Being a pedantic geek, I said that Westmeath have never won a major title for the first time without beating Laois in a replay. In 1995, it was the Leinster MFC with a win in Tullamore in a replay. In 1999, the U-21 LFC moved west after a replay, in Tullamore, against Laois. In each case, Laois were the champions, and in the first match, Laois equalized to bring the match to a replay, which Westmeath won.

Laois had already given us all heart attacks with a shot from inside the penalty area, which had been screwed wide- barely. In this sort of situation, I just have to look, even when the rest of the stadium falls silent, and you could hear a hedgehog fart 50 yards away. For me at least, my whole life seemed to focus on those few seconds, hearing people praying, seeing people covering their eyes, and turn away, seeing this guy I didn’t know, and would never meet, place the sporting history of my county in his hands. Roberto Baggio, an Italian soccer player, compared the moment of victory to the best fuck of his life, and it’s easy to see what he meant, when people experience the literally heart-stopping moment as this unknown Laois player kicks the ball, and the utterly insane moment as both umpires step forward, before a white flag is raised. That flag, signifying a point rather than a goal, marked Laois’ defeat, and sent the whole of Westmeath into a celebration that lasted for a hell of a long time.

By the way, this was the time when I leaned forward to the Laois SOB who had been annoying us all day, and whispered “Be seeing you now”.

I’m finishing this discussion of Westmeath GAA with some pictures taken during my time as a follower of the Lake County, who finally gave us the one victory we craved, on the so-called ‘freedom day’, of Sunday, July 24, 2004. As the Westmeath Examiner, the local newspaper, commented, for what Westmeath have done, in giving us this day of victory, we will never forget them, but for what could yet be achieved, we will still continue to hope. While Leinster has, finally, after 120 years, fallen to the maroon-and-white, the greatest prize of all, and the title of All-Ireland Champions, is still there to be taken. As the IRA say, our day will come.

For those who have read this far, and don’t know the end of this story, Westmeath’s football team played in Croke Park, for a record-setting sixth time in one season, and lost to Derry in the All-Ireland quarter-final. To repeat that point, Westmeath waited 63 years to get that far for the first time, and another 52 years to get that far for a second time. Another three years passed before Westmeath got to the last eight in the championship, but this time it was as provincial champions. Some day, somewhere (probably in Croke Park, one would assume), our day will come.

John, a Limerick man, recognizes Westmeath’s defeat of Limerick in the NFL division two final, in 2003. This recognition may have been alcohol-fuelled, but shows that GAA fans don’t get violent.

Westmeath won promotion from the second division for the first time by crushing Cork in the NFL Division two final in 2001. They were relegated in 2002, before winning promotion in 2003, and avoiding relegation on the last day of the season in 2004.

To this we swear eternal loyalty; to this we swear unending fealty.

The flag that flew over the GPO on Easter Sunday,1916, now flies over Croke Park.The 1916 Republicans swore loyalty to this flag, as do all modern Republicans such as myself, who regard this place as one of the greatest symbols of Irish resistance- right up there with the GPO itself. It's not much of a photo, but when this flag was hoisted about Dublin for the first time, Irish people were slaves in a country occupied by a foreign power. Now, we are well on the way to expelling that power for good. As the IRA say, our day will come. I don't bother with 'Eire go bragh', as I believe in the famous Republican mantra of one Ireland, one Irish people, united, free, and independent. For Republicans, this flag symbolizes the war that will, someday, bring us an Irish Republic, regardless of the cost in blood that this war requires. Ireland, united, Irish, and free.

It’s not all about Croke Park. On the left, Westmeath play a league game against Offlay, in Tullamore, in front of about 10,000 people. The match ended in a draw, and both teams were relegated. On the right, Westmeath play in the Leinster final against Laois. In front of about 56,000 people, this match ended in a draw, sending Westmeath on to that oh-so-enjoyable replay.

Was I drunk? Does a bear shit in the woods? Dave and myself argue the merits of the victory that saw Westmeath regain their first division status in 2003.

Not all my photos are indistinct. This free kick couldn’t stop Westmeath from knocking Carlow out of the championship, at the start of the 2001 campaign.

During the Leinster SFC semi-final, between Westmeath and Wexford, in front of about 40,000 people, this loony provided us with some entertainment. Look closely, and you’ll see that it’s just as well he was running away from me when I took this picture. While streakers aren’t uncommon, this guy got about five minutes on the pitch, doing cartwheels and all sorts of shite, before being caught by stewards.

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