The captains Kieran McGeeney and Peter Canavan: Keith Duggan talks to Kieran McGeeney about the champions' relentless drive for more success
Myths have flowered about Armagh. It is a common occurrence that when a team becomes evidently the best, the ones to beat, we outsiders must search for reasons. Remorseless has been the word most often used to describe the All-Ireland champions' return to another September, a march in defiance to assumptions they would disappear happily into the drumlins for another 100 years.
And togetherness has been the obvious key to their run. Armagh appear so utterly knitted together, symbolised by the magnetic orange circles they have formed before all the big matches at Croke Park, immersed in their own unity, backs to the world that we can't help but be fascinated.
And myths of their constant search for self-discovery and self-improvement and ways of eluding the rest have become abundant. The secret symbols on their jersey, the infamous half-time conference against Laois; the break-out of daily training sessions on their holiday in Mauritius, the identification with singular figures of incredible mental resolve like Lance Armstrong, the apparent tirelessness of their zest. Make of it what you will.
"Well, some people don't read," smiles Kieran McGeeney, responding to the idea that the Armagh boys like nothing better than to curl up with a cup of cocoa and a first-hand account of Lance's quest for the difficult second Tour de France.
"So you can't truly say it's across the board. You can sit down and watch a movie and leave it ready to walk through a brick wall. But the guy beside you could leave it thinking, what a load of shite that was. So it's hard to generalise. I mean, I can see what people see in Lance Armstrong in terms of his will and everything but others might identify with someone like Bruce Grobbelaar, you know, someone who performed at such a high level and kept a kind of humorous outlook."
A year since achieving his Nirvana with Armagh's stunning acquisition of their first All-Ireland title, nothing has outwardly changed about the Mullaghbawn man. Still polite, still gently deflecting inquiries about his ferocious drive and leadership and still insistent football, for all the emphasis on team, is an intensely personal thing. He claims he has no more idea what makes Oisin McConville tick than he does Paul McGrane.
"You can't delve into somebody else's mind," he points out. And that is at the heart of it. Armagh's collective mindset has been the story of this football year. Early this summer, it came out that a perceived lack of respect was the main motivation behind Armagh. Now, ahead of another final and a general acknowledgement of their prowess, is that still a factor?
"I dunno. Again, it depends on the person. To be honest, what someone thinks of me on a Monday morning won't keep me awake on Sunday night. I have to get up on Monday morning, look in the mirror and be able to say I did my best. In general, there are times when personal criticism hurts, everyone is human. But that sort of stuff, well, I think it's what family and friends think that matters most."
Much was made last season of McGeeney's fearsome and unbending leadership. His personal performances were reflected in the Footballer of the Year award bestowed upon him by his peers. Winning an All-Ireland senior medal was, he bravely admitted beforehand, an obsession.
But you would be hard pressed into thinking this past year has been heaven on earth. In many ways, it is as if nothing has changed. "Well, I have been trying to say all year. It is not the Sam Maguire Cup - that is a symbol. To me, the 20 seconds after the final whistle, that was it. And that feeling was probably better than I would have expected. It's as good as things will probably ever get."
And it is true that from his acceptance speech onwards, McGeeney, the All-Ireland winning captain, was still the same man; self-possessed to the point of appealing for crowd calm before he made his speech, quiet and patient and still demanding excellence of himself in the months afterwards.
"I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't love it," he repeats. "Again, people make assumptions from the outside. You smile a lot means you are enjoying it, you don't, then you are not. Nobody plays sport if they don't love doing it. There is a certain feeling you get in football from making a block or a pass that you know you just can't get elsewhere. I don't know if it is enjoyment but satisfaction that comes with the basic instinct of knowing that you have got the better of your opponent in that particular moment."
It is perhaps a testimony to the way Armagh have evolved as champions to note McGeeney's influence on the team has not been quite so explicit this year.
Around the experienced centre back - "I've been called a veteran since the age of 27 so I must be a super vet now" - others have grown in stature and confidence. Still, McGeeney will still be at the heart of those huddles, saying "not a whole pile like, just instructions or whatever".
And successfully or not, he will try to close in on his second All-Ireland senior medal with the same balance of carnal instinct and reserved intelligence as he did last year. Nothing has changed. That it is a derby against Tyrone; that Ulster's most local rivalry will go national for the day is, he believes, of little consequence. The principle is the same. There is just another game to be won.
