Medals cannot reflect McGeeney lustre

Sideline Cut: Around lunchtime yesterday, word broke that Kieran McGeeney had announced his retirement from the Armagh football team. And although it was not that surprising, it was nonetheless unbelievable.

And it was poignant, too, that we should hear the announcement on the weekend of an All-Ireland football final, the theatre McGeeney has been obsessed with returning to since Armagh's crowning year of 2002 and the gripping derby loss to Tyrone the following September.

The writing was probably on the wall by midsummer, when Joe Kernan decided he had guided the county team as far as he could and bowed out.

McGeeney was ambivalent in this newspaper about his future, praising the new manager, Peter McDonnell, whom he regards as a friend, but also declaring his unhappiness at the casual treatment by the county board of Paul Grimley, the long-serving lieutenant under Kernan.

It could well be McGeeney quit as a gesture of protest. He could have deduced that by overlooking Grimley, the Armagh executive were sending out the clear message this was a new time. McGeeney's longevity was surely based on his belief the core who became gigantic under Kernan still had the time and energy to have one further tilt at the Sam Maguire. If that team believed they could and should have won more than their lone All-Ireland, they were not alone. Most people in the country recognised that, and it is easy to argue Armagh were unfortunate not to become the first three-in-a-row team of the modern era.

But for Conor Gormley's immortal block, Steven McDonnell would have kicked the winning goal for Armagh in the 2003 All-Ireland final. A year later, going into the quarter-final against Fermanagh, Armagh were clear favourites for the championship after crushing Donegal in the Ulster final.

Fermanagh were gallant and fearless that afternoon but Armagh fell into some kind of black hole and became the fall guys in one of the great upsets in championship history. And even in 2005 there was little to separate Armagh from the defending champions, Kerry, and the eventual winners, Tyrone.

The years 2002 to 2005 were Armagh's years for domination, and even last year, it should be remembered, they went toe to toe with Jack O'Connor's reimagined Kerry team in a brilliant match that confirmed the substance of Kieran Donaghy and also heralded the end of Armagh.

It should be acknowledged that many people did not like the Armagh team led by McGeeney. Daft traditionalists resented their audacity in beating Kerry in 2002 and, less forgivably, immediately disappearing into the Republican hamlets of myth to celebrate what was an epochal title.

It became evident in the following months - remember how the champions barnstormed Croke Park in the first league match the following February, eclipsing Dublin in front of 53,000 - that Armagh were intent on nothing less than a dynasty. They were serious and confident. They hit hard and often rode the rules to the limit.

When Armagh were trailing in matches, disagreements tended to break out. When they went ahead, they had a Zen master's concentration on nothing but football. At their best, they did not so much beat teams as dismantle them, not only inflicting their combination of direct, angled passing and shimmering scoretaking but also intimidating teams with their formidable sense of cause. In the very instant Armagh made opposing teams forget what they were about, they pounced and set about killing the game, so that by the end the opposition had ceased to be a team and become a scattered group of demoralised individuals.

Dublin felt that. Donegal felt that. Laois felt that. Tyrone felt that. For counties on the receiving end, it felt like less a defeat than a violation. Armagh made no apologies.

But the fact was Armagh, more than any other county, made the modern-day championship. Armagh had what we, the audience, want of great sportspeople and great teams; they were compelling and dark-hearted and they weren't there to joke around. And McGeeney was their leader.

The Mullaghbawn man has crystal-clear memories of the years in the late 1980s and early 1990s when Armagh were just another Ulster team, skilful in a flickering way but ultimately happy to make up the numbers. He was one of the many young Catholic kids from Tyrone, Armagh and Derry at college in Belfast during the final days of the Troubles, their professional and football lives coinciding with the stumbling steps toward peace. He grew up, in other words, in the last days of the old Ulster, and as Gaelic football began to prosper in the new land, McGeeney became one of its brightest representatives. He was ambitious for Armagh and for himself. The hours burnt on the bench press became comically evident in his forearms with every passing summer.

Armagh set the tone for physical prowess and McGeeney set the tone for Armagh.

One day some of the Irish rugby team were training in a Dublin gym and when one noticed the Armagh man heaving the heavy weights, he asked, "Who's the Kiwi?"

McGeeney was sometimes portrayed as serious to the point of dourness, even though he often lampooned the monasticism of his lifestyle in deadpan one-liners. He took the game seriously but was always lighter about himself.

He won six Ulsters, three All Stars, was Footballer of the Year in 2002. But the driving ambition was to find a comrade for that single All-Ireland medal. In more recent years, the odds lengthened. McGeeney's quest and Armagh's quest became quixotic.

Those of us who watched Armagh getting torn apart by Derry in Crossmaglen last March will long remember the sight of McGeeney and Paul McGrane having a quiet conversation pitchside afterwards. It was clear then the coming months would represent a last stand. In the summer, they still looked like a good team but against Donegal and then Derry the old winning instinct was gone.

In my view, this summer of football has been drawn-out and ordinary. It is no coincidence Armagh went early. Now McGeeney has left, they will find it harder to come back. His retirement may well presage the departure of other huge names.

It could well be the rise of Armagh was a passing phenomenon, a brief but unforgettable shout from a county that defied expectations and history to become the most feared and fascinating in the land.

McGeeney was often described as the first professional in Gaelic games. That always seemed wrong. A professional clocks on and then clocks off.

No, McGeeney was not the first professional; he was one of the last of the Corinthians. He just went after the oldest dream in Gaelic games, heedless of time.

It was a long and honourable chase and if his years in that flaming orange shirt prove anything, it is that greatness cannot always be measured by medals.