Donegal’s Eamon McGee with the Sam Maguire Cup(Image: ©INPHO/Cathal Noonan)The ‘Overview Effect’ is a cognitive shift experienced by astronauts when viewing Earth from space, leading to a sense of awe and interconnectedness with all life on the planet.
As the lads walk in the All-Ireland final parade tomorrow, there’s a chance for those of us from Donegal to look around and experience their own North West of Ireland Overview Effect.
Savour this moment. This is us travelling to the capital to take on a juggernaut of the GAA world.
Despite all of our differences, we are all connected here. There’s something bigger here than just one person in their Donegal colours cheering for their team to win.
There’s a green and gold energy in the air. It’s nearly tangible. Like you can reach out and touch it.
Whether you believe in the afterlife or not, one thing you have the power to make immortal is this experience — that you were able to say I was there.
I was there the day Kevin Cassidy scored that point against Kildare. I was there when Michael Murphy rattled the net in an All-Ireland final. I was there the day we beat the Dubs.
You pass those experiences on and then the next generation passes them on. They never truly die then.
Ask how many of the 2012 group’s fires were lit by 1992. Ask how many of these young bucks were inspired by the 2012 group.
My own young fella wants to play in Croke Park and pretends he is Shane O’Donnell. How many young people will be inspired by 2025 and their journey?
Those experiences live on throughout the generations. Immortal. There’s power there. Real power of a group with one vision in mind.
All united in that one goal of seeing Paddy McBrearty walk up the steps to lift Sam Maguire for the third time in our history. If we could jump the fence we could, but we just have to trust Jim and the lads.
It’s hard to know what to talk about this weekend. I’m hoping we win so maybe it might be good to talk about what the day of an All-Ireland looks like. I’m not going back to 2014 — still too sore — so I’ll go through the famous day of 2012.
Sunday September 23, 2012, 5am
I’ve roomed with Michael Boyle for years now. He’s used to me and my odd ways of going on.
I struggle to sleep in hotel rooms so he doesn’t bat an eyelid when I tell him I went for a walk in the middle of the night, or if he wakes up at 2am and the hotel bed is empty.
The morning before the All-Ireland is different, though. We are in two separate rooms because we are in the apartments of Johnstown House.
Donegal have done their best to give every man his own room. So initially Boyler is delighted — peace and quiet.
He thinks wrong and I land into him at 5am. “I can’t sleep Boyler. Wild nerves.”
He doesn’t take me on, “Jesus Christ. Take that iPad and get out to f**k.” I mess about on his pad and within 20 minutes I’m out cold.
Sunday September 23, 2012, 8am
I can never quite place my finger on it. Why I woke up like this, after my midnight nerves, but I just genuinely knew I would have a good game.
It’s an incredible place to be, just knowing in your heart that you are going to perform.
Maybe some sport psychologist can explain it but I had that feeling and it was hard to tap into that feeling again.
It didn’t happen enough for liking afterwards.
Sunday September 23, 2012 10am-12.30pm
These times are guesses, by the way, because I actually don’t remember much about the build up.
I often wonder, should I have taken more in and made a conscious effort to remember the whole day.
But maybe from a sports performance perspective that’s the point. It’s just another day, the same as every other game day.
Analysis. Boring pasta and chicken with that tomato sauce. No nerves at all, just that confidence, I’m having a good game today.
Sunday September 23, 2012, 1:30pm
For the bus in, I grab a Sunday paper from the hotel to read and sure enough I’m doing an interview in it.
I don’t have it open a minute and Jim spots me, takes it off me and says, ‘Read it Monday morning, Eamon.’
I remember muttering a reply, ‘Monday morning is no good to me to pass this journey.’
I do definitely remember a tense atmosphere on the bus. My usual crew of big Neil and Christy Toye always had plenty to say but it takes a while for them to get going today.
The Garda cavalcade takes us in. Go through the crowds. See the different signs and then have the usual manoeuvring to get the bus under the stand in Croke Park.
I’ve seen some drivers flounder here. You’ve progressed to pro level bus driver when you get in there with little fuss.
Sunday September 23, 2012, 1:30-3:10pm
Again, much of a blur. Lads have settled a bit so me and Toye go out to the warm-up area to burn a bit of energy playing the primary school game where you hit the ball against the wall and it can’t hit the opposite wall.
Throw water on the face. Go round each lad in the team, look at him and tell him he’s going to do well today. You get the jersey on and then you wait.
I hate the waiting. I’d rather just get into it before anything jeopardises this perfect mindset that I’m in.
Sunday September 23, 2012, 3:10-3:30pm
Finally get out to the field. Warm up in the noise. For some reason — and many people don’t understand this — once you get out the 80,000 people don’t really bother you.
Meet the President. Parade. I remember during the parade there is a brief attempt by the doubts to swallow me whole.
The noise and occasion starts to get to me and you know what I tell myself there and then, that I am the best defender on the pitch.
I have proved it time and time again on the training field. Maybe the majority of people would disagree with me but what is important is that I believe it.
It works too. I am back in the frame of mind then.
Sunday September 23, 2012, 3:30-5pm
The ball is thrown in and I remember the first thing happens is big Neil gives a kick in straight away. ‘For f**k sake’, I think. I know we talked about it during the week but be smart about it.
Alan Dillon gets the ball and I see the move before it happens. He kicks it in and I’m way out in front to win it, and as I’ve been told numerous times, lay it off afterwards.
I pat Cillian O’Connor on the arse and say, ‘Keep the head up, you’ll get the next ball, lad.’
Donegal’s Eamonn McGee in action against Cillian O’Connor of Mayo in the 2012 All-Ireland final (Image: ©INPHO/Cathal Noonan)Murphy scores a goal straight off the training ground. Not long after we score another and Neil turns to Michael Conroy and says, ‘Does your sport performance coach have this covered?’
I go on to have a great game and probably should be man of the match but losing out to Murphy makes it easier.
I sent one of the lads into a bookie earlier in the week to back me for man of the match at 33/1. Tenner on. It would have been handy over the next few days.
Sunday September 23, 2012, 5pm
Final whistle goes. What’s it like to win an All-Ireland? There’s actually a picture of me, Big Neil, Murphy and big Papa Durkan.
I recently got it framed for Michael when he moved into the new house.
That joy we all feel is summed up in that picture.
Thankfully, real joy like that doesn’t come too often because if it did then it just wouldn’t taste as sweet.
That feeling will last forever. I’ll tell my kids about that feeling. They’ll tell theirs.
ALL-IRELAND FINAL 2056, Jones Road, 3pm
My son Luca is holding his son’s hand as they make their way to another Donegal appearance in an All-Ireland final.
Luca looks down at him and his son asks “Tell me about 2025 again, was supposed to be a magical feeling …”