The following is an extract from Garrett Malone’s book Goal-den Days, which can be purchased at this link here.
According to the 2022 census figures, Laois has a population of just under 92,000 people, placing it 23RD population-wise among the counties of Ireland.
It is also a county divided between hurling and football. To the north and east, it is bordered by Offaly, Kildare, and Carlow. This is football territory. To the south and west lie Tipperary and Kilkenny, where the small ball reigns supreme.
Playing resources are, therefore, in relatively short supply. Laois have contested three All-Ireland Hurling finals in the 134-year history of the GAA, winning one way back in 1915. The footballers have played twice on the biggest day, losing both finals on an aggregate margin of 33 points.
Between 2004 and 2007, I was present as my club, Portlaoise, lost an All-Ireland final, Laois lost a Leinster final, and the county Under 21s lost an All-Ireland final. Each defeat was by a single point. It is not easy being a Laois GAA fan!
My early memories of attending GAA matches revolve around paper hats, choc ices and match programmes. We usually stood on the terracing at O’Moore Park as the sun baked down and the ice cream sellers filtered through the crowd.
The non-smokers appeared to be in the minority, and the stench of tobacco filled the air. Down on the field, the team colours were bright and bold. Most of the players were heavily strapped and bandaged and rarely strayed from their positions. I never recall having or needing a ticket.
My uncle Ned, who always accompanied us to games, possessed an official pass, which was effectively a ten-year ticket. I remember an enormous sense of pride when accompanying him to the designated turnstile for pass holders.
How I loved the programmes, particularly the section underneath the team lists, which allowed the owner to fill in the game’s statistics. I also enjoyed perusing the results of past meetings between the sides. It’s fascinating still to examine these and note the playing of Leinster Championship games in venues such as Athy, Athlone and Naas.
After a glorious introduction to the blue and white army in 1985, a year in which teams from both codes made Leinster final appearances, 1986 began in a similarly victorious vein. It was my first year of knowing what it really meant to be an O’Moore supporter.
It turned out to be perhaps the most infamous year in Laois GAA history. Laois emerged unbeaten from Division Three (South) of the National Football League to qualify for the quarter-finals. An extra time goal from Tom Prendergast guided the team to victory over a Down side that sported the coolest colours in GAA.
In the semi-finals, Laois overcame Dublin in Croke Park on a 0-12 to 1-7 scoreline – a momentous achievement. The day of the final was as damp and grey as it is possible in May.
My sister, who was suffering with a nasty cough and cold, had to work all her only-daughter charm on Dad to be allowed to travel. She nearly ended up with pneumonia.
I stayed at home with Mam, as the ‘Big Smoke’ was deemed too much for a six-year-old. I can vividly recall the smell of roasting chicken, coinciding with Mícheál Ó Muircheartaigh’s proclamation that we were NFL champions.
It was an historic victory for a county that had been the inaugural league winners way back in 1926. Eamon Whelan and Willie Brennan scored stunning first-half goals, and although Laois only managed two points following the resumption, they clung on for a stunning 2-6 to 2-5 victory.
The house was in buoyant mood when the travellers returned, and a few days later, I was being held aloft on my father’s shoulders in Market Square Portlaoise as the county celebrated its heroes. In a pre-championship challenge match to mark O’Moore Park’s redevelopment, Laois dealt the mighty Kerry a thrashing, propelling them to the status of genuine All-Ireland contenders.
The victory was the devil in disguise. It left Laois overconfident and unprepared for the ambush that awaited them in the picturesque village of Aughrim.
Sunday, 15 June 1986, dawned dazzlingly bright and sunny. The heat bordered on oppressive. My dad was relaxed about the outcome against the lowly Wicklow. So much so that the family decided to watch one of our horses compete in a local show-jumping event in Abbeyleix.
Only my sister stayed true to the cause and accompanied my uncle and cousins to the game. Monica was a fiercely devoted Laois fan. A team poster adorned her wall, and she had been meticulously compiling a scrapbook of Laois’s triumphant year. She was to return from the ‘Garden County’ in floods of tears.
Much has been said and written about what happened that day. But certain points are worth recalling. From the offset, Laois were uncomfortable with the choice of venue. It was clearly ill-equipped to deal with the crowd of 12,000 who showed up.
The spectators, the majority of whom were from Laois, formed a perimeter around the pitch, as no fencing was in place. The teams emerged through the crowd, and players were forced to push onlookers back in order to take sideline kicks and frees.
Coupled with the weather, it made for a daunting atmosphere. What is often overlooked in the fallout, though, is that Laois started the game superbly. They produced beautiful, free-flowing football and raced to a comfortable, six-point lead at the interval.
There are many conflicting reports as to what happened next. However, it is worth highlighting that it is extremely rare in sport for the favourites, who are cruising to an easy victory, to turn the aggressor suddenly. Referee Carthage Buckley from Offaly has oft-asserted that all of the Laois dismissals on the day were merited. While this may be correct, it ignores the obvious question of why this would become their modus operandi for the first time that year.
The real truth lies in the fact that in a spiteful second half, the Laois team were subjected to a barrage of physical and verbal punishment. Left woefully unprotected by weak officialdom, they reacted with stupidity and volatility.
Three of Laois’s forwards received their marching orders, none of the starting six finished the game, and a goal from a penalty rebound put the seal on a four-point win for Wicklow. It was a crushing blow to a talented team with no back-door to regroup.
The Leinster Express newspaper called it ‘Daylight Robbery’, and they had a point. My family went into mourning. Colm Browne and Liam Irwin were rewarded for their efforts with the county’s first football All-Stars. We obtained the official Bank of Ireland All-Stars team poster and pinned it proudly on our wall.
Goalkeeper Martin Conroy from Ballyroan was awarded the prestigious ‘Save of the Year’ trophy. But the debacle in Aughrim marked the beginning of the end for perhaps the most talented team the county had ever produced.
In 1987, they made a brave bid for redemption, losing by three points to Meath in Portlaoise. I was at the game and remember Colm O’Rourke scoring a penalty at a critical moment, and despite a heroic performance from Colm Browne, Meath were not to be denied.
It was the closest any team got to the ‘Royals’ that year, and Sam Maguire headed for Navan, leaving a sour taste of what-ifs in Laois mouths.
On 22 May 1988, the day after my First Holy Communion, we travelled to Carlow to witness the last sting of a dying wasp, as Carlow sent us packing in the first round on a 3-5 to 2-7 scoreline. On the following day, my mam brought me to Gerry Browne’s, a local jeweller located on Main Street, to buy my first watch as a First Communion gift.
Gerry had been a member of the side for several years and was all too aware they had missed the boat. As he fitted my Casio, I recall my mam telling him that I’d gone to watch him play in Dr Cullen Park the previous day. He looked at me wistfully and said, ‘Yesterday’s a dirty word!’
And so, we returned to our rightful place of being a middle-of-the-road side. We meandered along for the next 14 years, with an impressive run here (1991 Leinster finalists) and a calamitous defeat there (a twenty-point loss to Meath in 1990).
The 1990 massacre was only my second visit to Croke Park as a fan. Surprisingly, I actually played in Croke Park before I ever attended a game there. Our second class teacher, Mrs O’Sullivan (an amazing person), had brought us there as part of our school tour.
We were allowed to play a match across the width of the hallowed turf. It was an unforgettable experience, but I was actually a little miffed at not being allowed to shoot into the main goals. I had watched Liam Hayes score a stunning goal for Meath in the League final a few weeks earlier, and I was itching to try and replicate it!
Then, in April of 1990, my uncle Ned took me on the train to Dublin for the Hurling League final. I sat awestruck in the Hogan Stand as Kilkenny defeated Wexford by eight points. It was another wonderful day. By contrast, the hammering from Meath was a painful experience for a ten-year-old. It was Leinster semi-final day, and I travelled to Croke Park with the Portlaoise GAA juvenile group.
The match coincided with the Irish Italia ’90 squad’s homecoming parade, and most of us were more interested in matters World Cup (two Italia ’90 quarter-finals were also taking place), than the anaemic fare on offer in Dublin.
I couldn’t wait to get back to Portlaoise to see how Cameroon would fare against England. Fast forward a year, and what a welcome contrast was provided.
It was the summer of the epic four-game saga between Dublin and Meath, and while most of the media attention was focused there, Laois were making steady progress on the other side of the draw. I was there to watch us defeat Westmeath by fourteen points, and there followed a draw with Louth in Croke Park.
In the replay, a young Emo man called Mick Lawlor announced his arrival on the inter-county stage in some style. Lawlor bagged 2-3 as Laois cruised to an eight-point victory. But hopes of slipping into the final under the radar disappeared in the final moments as a massive brawl ensued, a row which makes the Meath-Mayo 1996 altercation look like handbags.
I wasn’t at the replay, but my sister and brother were, and their reactions were at opposite ends of the spectrum, with Monica crying tears of anxiety for the players’ welfare and Peter roaring them into combat with gusto. Thankfully, no one was seriously hurt, but suddenly Laois’s discipline was under intense scrutiny going into a Leinster final, and it was to cost us dearly.
The seven games it had taken Meath to get to this point had delayed the championship considerably. The final wasn’t played until 10 August, a day before a Kerry-Down semi-final and, unusually for the time, on a Saturday.
I travelled by bus with my father and uncles and sat in the Cusack Stand, my view badly obscured by pillars and Meath flags. Laois started the match superbly and raced into the lead, but the prevailing feeling that we would be punished retrospectively for our indiscretions against Louth materialised when defender Tommy Smith was dismissed in the aftermath of a David Beggy goal.
There was no way back from this double whammy, and we returned home crestfallen after a 1-11 to 0-8 defeat. The tribal element of GAA means that even when your own team is eliminated, there is still huge joy to be had from watching your rivals fail.
Embittered with defeat, I made up my mind Meath were the bad guys, and I was delighted when they fell at the final hurdle against Down.
Laois appeared like no other county for their ability to surprise for better and for worse. They were the Jekyll and Hyde of Gaelic Football, and 1992 typified that. The draw that year could hardly have been more unkind, assigning Laois to the Leinster Championship preliminary round, pitting them once more against the ‘Royal County’, and compounded by the fact that Meath would have home advantage in Páirc Tailteann.
In a pre-back-door era, it appeared ‘The O’Moore’s’ season would be over before June had even begun. I didn’t attend, staying behind with my parents to mind the farm and leaving it to my siblings and two uncles to support the troops.
It was 24 May, and the day was beautifully warm and sunny. I lazed in the car listening to RTÉ Radio. Kerry were playing Cork in Páirc Uí Chaoimh and most of the coverage was dedicated to that game.
Meath were expected to be comfortable winners, and the dismissal of Laois’s Joe Nolan early in the second half only strengthened that view. But inspired by 18-year-old debutant Hugh Emerson, they began to get a grip on the game.
Substitute Mick Turley bagged a goal, and although Meath responded with a goal of their own through Tommy Dowd, this was a day when the ‘O’Moore’ men were not to be denied. Sean Dempsey was taken down for a penalty, and goalkeeper Tony McMahon strode forward to blast the ball to the Meath net.
This was the only time I had heard of a keeper taking a penalty since the eccentric Colombian René Higuita, and I couldn’t contain my elation. Meath were famed for their late comebacks, but none materialised on this occasion. Liam Hayes was sent to the line by referee Tommy Howard, and we held out for a three-point victory.
It was a landmark victory. Whilst Monica and Peter travelled home with a neighbour, my uncles (both teetotalers and fond of an early night) experienced a mystery bus tour Emo style, stopping in several hostelries and only returning in the small hours.
Everyone was discussing the match the next day. The county was on a high. ‘Magnificent’ trumpeted the Leinster Express, with one Laois fan quoted as saying that Meath were in such shock they would probably still turn up for Tuesday night training.
Sadly, Laois’s joy was short-lived. They fell to Louth in Croke Park by a single point three weeks later. I went to the game as part of a group from the Portlaoise Juvenile Club and remember a numbing sense of disappointment afterwards.
I went home and consoled myself by watching Tomas Brolin bag the winner in the Sweden vs Denmark tie at Euro ’92. It must be pointed out that Louth were a quality team, with Seamus O’Hanlon a dominant force at midfield. They ran Dublin all the way in the Leinster final, losing by just three points.
A year later, Laois avenged the defeat, beating the ‘Wee County’ in O’Moore Park before falling to Meath again. So, over a three-year period, Laois had managed to beat one and lose to the other on each occasion.
We just couldn’t put two performances back-to-back. It seemed ever thus. In 1994, 1995, and 1997, superb NFL quarter-final victories were quickly followed by dispiriting semi-final defeats.
With Tom Cribbin at the helm, we were desperately unlucky not to defeat Dublin in 1999, coughing up a four-point lead late on, thanks to some dubious refereeing decisions, before losing the replay narrowly after suffering a controversial first-half red card. It was probably the most gut-wrenching reverse since ’86, and it caused Laois to slip into decline again.
But then, in late 2002 (after another indifferent campaign saw Colm Browne vacate the managerial throne for a second time), came the news that would bring hope back into every Laois heart. Micko was coming to town!
And the rest, as they say, is history.
SEE ALSO – Check out all our Tailteann Cup final coverage here
