All set for a final of contrasts

WHEN the ball is thrown in at 3.30pm this Sunday in Croke Park, it won’t just be the All-Ireland title on the line—it’ll be a referendum on the future of Gaelic football.

In one corner, Kerry: aristocrats of the kicking game, standard-bearers for the sport’s aesthetic soul. In the other, Donegal: tacticians, runners, disruptors—led once again by the game’s most enigmatic mind, Jim McGuinness.

This is a final that pits philosophy against philosophy, style against system, instinct against structure. And yet, for all the talk of contrasts, the truth—as ever—lies somewhere in the middle.

Clifford: The unstoppable force

Let’s start with the obvious: David Clifford is the most unmarkable player in Ireland—possibly ever. He’s not just Kerry’s talisman; he’s their gravitational centre. Everything Kerry do in attack revolves around him. His movement, balance, and ability to score from impossible angles make him the kind of player who forces opposition managers to abandon their usual plans and start from scratch.

Jim McGuinness will have a plan for him—he always does. But having a plan is one thing; making it work is another. Personally, I think the best approach is to man-mark David Clifford, Paudie Clifford, and Seán O’Shea—cut off the oxygen, starve the supply lines. Then say two Hail Marys and a Glory Be that Clifford has an off day. But even that might not be enough. Tyrone tried it—and Clifford still racked up 1-9. That’s why McGuinness won’t be sleeping much this week and why he won’t listen to me.

The problem? Committing three players to man-marking duties doesn’t suit McGuinness’s defensive system. It’s not how Donegal are built. More likely, they’ll assign a marker to Clifford but defend zonally in the scoring zone, trying to deny Kerry the space and angles they thrive on. If Donegal can disrupt Kerry’s rhythm—force them into lateral handpassing, slow their transitions, and deny them the quick ball into space—they might just make Clifford look human for a day.

That, however, opens up another risk. It could leave space for Kerry’s half-forwards to step into shooting positions. And with the new two-point rule, those long-range efforts will be tempting. But as Meath showed the last day, relying on those shots—and missing them—can be a heartbreaking tactic.

Out with the old, in with the new

If anyone can do it, it’s Jim McGuinness. Back in an All-Ireland final with Donegal, he remains the most psychologically astute manager in the game. His teams don’t just play systems—they believe in them. They buy into the collective. And they execute with a discipline that borders on the fanatical.

McGuinness will have a plan. He always does. Whether it’s a hybrid sweeper system, a rotating double-marking scheme, or a midfield press designed to choke Kerry’s kick-passing game at source, you can be sure it’s been drilled to within an inch of its life.

But here’s the rub: the game has changed. The new rules—designed to speed up play, encourage kicking, and reduce the suffocating blanket defences of the past—have shifted the landscape. And while Kerry have adapted with ease, Donegal, for me, are still finding their feet.

There’s a sense that Donegal haven’t quite made hay with the new rulebook. Their game remains rooted in the running, handpassing traditions of the northwest. It’s in their DNA. But in this new era, where quick transitions and early ball are king, that DNA can feel like a weight.

Kerry, by contrast, have embraced the change. They play with their heads up. They look for the dinked pass, the third-man runner, the early delivery into space. They’re not dogmatic about it—they’ll handpass when they need to—but their instinct is always forward. And that’s why, for the sake of Gaelic football’s evolution, Kerry need to win.

That’s not to diminish Donegal’s achievements. They’ve been superb this summer—resilient, relentless, and tactically sharp. Their spread of scorers is broader than Kerry’s. They’ve averaged 10 different names on the scoresheet per game, compared to Kerry’s eight. They’re not a one-man band. But they are a team still trying to reconcile their natural instincts with the demands of the modern game.

This will be Jack O’Connor’s eighth All-Ireland Final as manager. For many of his players, it’s their fourth or fifth. They’ve been here before. They know the rhythms of final day—the nerves, the noise, the need for patience.

Donegal, by contrast, are newer to this stage. But they have Michael Murphy, Oisín Gallen and a rejuvenated Ryan McHugh leading the charge. And in Shaun Patton, they have a goalkeeper whose kickouts could be the launchpad for counter-attacks that catch Kerry cold.

A clash of futures

So what are we really watching next Sunday? It’s not just a clash of styles. It’s a clash of futures. A test of whether the game’s new direction can be vindicated on the biggest stage. If Kerry win playing the football they can—fast, fluid, fearless—it will be a validation of the rule changes and a blueprint for others to follow.

If Donegal win, it will be a triumph of planning, of belief, of a team refusing to be told how they should play. It will be McGuinness’s greatest trick yet.

Either way, we’re in for a final that promises more than just a trophy. It promises a statement.

And in a summer where Gaelic football has felt reborn, that’s exactly what it deserves.