KEITH DUGGAN on how their manager has tried to insulate his players from the more theatrical outpouring of emotions that accompany Mayo's best and worst days

AS MAYO jetted in from their week of warm-weather training in Portugal, one of their stalwarts slipped quietly into the ether.

The retirement of Trevor Mortimer after a decade of whole-hearted service in the green and red was accompanied with surprisingly few brass notes, which is probably the way the Shrule man wanted it. But his departure adds to the staggering list of Mayo men who came within one game of winning an All-Ireland medal.

Mortimer bore the physical scars of the 2004 and 2006 All-Ireland final losses to Kerry but seemed to emerge as a stronger player, acting as captain during John O’Mahony’s tenure before being reinvented as a half-back by James Horan last year.

Horan’s tinkering was such a resounding success that Mortimer finished the year with an All-Star nomination. His most crucial intervention occurred in the game that few saw: Mayo’s near-calamity against London in Ruislip early last summer is almost forgotten now but it took exceptional leadership from both Mortimer and Andy Moran to see the side through after extra time.

Mayo recovered to win the Connacht title and to cause a significant shock by sending the All-Ireland champions packing in the All-Ireland quarter-final.

Reviewed in brief, Mayo’s last championship season seemed to offer further proof of the fact that Mayo football must always be on the brink of something either terrible or wonderful. Coping with the public’s great expectations and depressions has become part of James Horan’s brief, just as if was for all previous Mayo managers.

When Mayo lost to Cork following a mystifyingly terrible display against Donegal, Horan was questioned on the field in Castlebar about the effect of those two defeats.

“We’ll get over it but I am not sure if the Mayo public will,” he said wryly. “I am not sure where all this gloom has come from.”

But he knew. Stella Dubois has nothing on the average Mayo football supporter in full flow. The theme was recently taken up in An Spailpín Fanach, comfortably the most entertaining blog out there on politics, culture and sport: “Neither Doctor Jekyll, Mr Hyde nor the Irish weather itself are at the races with Mayo football support when it comes to mercurial mood swings. Last August we were licking our lips at the return of the county team to the top table after the desolation inflicted by Johnno’s Second Coming; now, the week after St Patrick’s Day, we are in despair once more after two bad losses in the National Football League. How can this be? Why does it always have to be either/or?”

The answer, of course, lies not so much in Mayo’s failure to win an All-Ireland title since 1951 but with the fact that three generations of teams have tantalised their public with the expectation that they are going to do so. Trevor Mortimer was captain when Mayo last played in a league final two years ago (Cork formed the opposition then too).

“Mayo supporters always travel up in great numbers,” he told The Irish Times before that match. “They are wonderful that way. But I have to say that there is a tendency among everyone in Mayo – we are probably all guilty of it – to exaggerate things at both extremes.”

Horan observed and felt the extreme emotions first as a player on the Mayo All-Ireland final teams of 1996 and 1997 and was at an impressionable age in 1989 when the county reached its first final since 1951. His way of coping with the highs and lows as manager is to keep a steady, low-key perspective on both good days and bad.

“The game plan doesn’t change,” he insisted on the day of the Cork game.

A week later, Mayo put in a thrillingly complete display against Dublin and then earned a draw down in Kerry and then held their nerve in that extra-time duel against Kerry two weeks ago. The mood barometer is soaring towards the heavens again.

There is nothing that Mayo’s management or the squad can do about that except to stick to Horan’s mantra that they will go about their business.

Paul Galvin’s observation that there is “something different” about Mayo now should be heeded. One new trait was the way in which they just stuck about to see what would happen.

If previous Mayo teams were guilty of anything, it was their inclination to accept that the fates were against them on a given day. “But this was different,” observed An Spailpín Fanach after the semi-final win.

“When the midfield began to burn diesel Mayo kept on going, ignoring the black smoke belching between the 45-metre lines. The penny had dropped: Mayo knew that, even though they were struggling, they were always in the game. That Kerry would make mistakes as we all make mistakes and those mistakes would give Mayo a chance. Which is exactly what happened.”

Of course, with Mayo, it only takes one bad day for the keening to begin anew and playing a team like Cork, with their tremendous power and the fact that they have yet to fully light up this year, comes with warnings.

All James Horan and Mayo can do is play. And if Horan has managed to insulate his players from the more theatrical outpouring of emotions that accompany the best and worst of Mayo’s days, then he has made already made them a tougher team to beat.