29

I came into the adult grades as a Minor in '99 along with eight or nine of the victorious '98 team. We had that youthful swashbuckling style with little regard for reputation. More success soon followed at U-21 and the natural and rapid progression was to challenge the establishment and seek our places on the adult side. There was no intentional cull by selectors but it seemed their 1998 defeat to Crosshaven pushed a host of them into retirement. Pat Murphy, Gerry Murphy and Gavin Farrissey were the only lads north of 25 and the majority of us were still Minor or U-21.

Having team-mates so close in age made me think that this was the norm and that the average club player would have hung up his boots by the time he was 25. I thought my time was ticking and I was still a Minor!! At that age you are still developing physically so you rely on your natural skill, instincts and enthusiasm. The knocks don't take the same toll, nor does the bulging fixture list. There is one void which you cannot recognise at the time and that's experience.

Dad used to bang on about it all the time and I didn't know what he was on about. Because you don't recognise it at the time so cannot understand it. Looking back though I realised I encountered it regularly. I remember one game up in Passage and I was marking a wiry auld lad with shiney hair. On paper I should have had the measure of him but he was like a magnet for the ball. I couldn't figure it out. Gerry Murphy was the same. They just knew how to time the runs and when and where the ball would arrive. They had perfected their dummies and knew how to play to their strengths.

As the years progressed I started to recognise it. If you have been caught one on one in front of the goal for the first time, you may get caught in two minds about what to do. When you have been in the situation hundreds of times you get cuter. You watch the body language, look at the eyes, narrow the angle and wait for the right moment to pounce. That judgement only comes with experience. It's an invaluable asset and can overcome so many other deficiencies.

When I moved to Belgium I realised there was life after 25. Out in FC Irlande, I marvelled at the likes of Enda and Alan Norton; deep into their thirties and flying fit. They were even aloud play games!! An added bonus was that, as an expat club, there were no young fellas chomping at the bit trying to get your place. The G.A.A. club here was very much a Dad's army affair in those days. Now though, we have an array of ages from low twenties to late thirties & beyond. The influx of young fellas has transported me into the Dad's Army brigade at a time when I thought the likes of Conor, Denis, Enda and Fergal were keeping me young.

Today I'm 29 but with plenty left in the tank. The body is better than it was for years and the hunger to make the most out of every occasion gains momentum with each passing year. Today, I will accept the transition into my thirtieth year and tomorrow I'll try and kick on and make it a good one.