An unforgettable family day out!

I'VE ALWAYS loved Dublin city. The songs and stories; the people, the history, both the distinction and the raggedness of the place. It has so much to offer the every day tourist, from Kilmainham Gaol, the Writers Museum, the Guinness, and of course the Guinness factory. The literary tours, Temple Bar and Croke Park. What’s not to love? Well, maybe the price of a pint. Because they do rip the proverbial arse out of it as European cities go, but I’m not dwelling on that. Because my most recent trip to the city was in one word—phenomenal! Had Christy Moore and Cillian Murphy been hanging around with us, it wouldn’t have made it any better than it was. In fact Cillian almost did hang around with us. Mary Hunter walked past him in the street and said hello. She knew she recognised from some place!

I’d just driven all the way from Coventry back home after being at the All-Britain Fleadh. Myself and my fellow marching band comrades had already been notified that we were playing at the All Ireland semi-final in Croke Park on Sunday July 13. As I walked in the door after an exhausting and very, very hot road trip, hubby had RTÉ on and was watching the draw for the semi-final games. You can imagine the exhaustion was soon punched out of us when Donegal were drawn against Meath for the Sunday. Our game. Our big Croke Park debut. We were squealing like banshees. The marching band WhatsApp group nearly exploded and our bags were packed, pronto. Now I could whittle off a hundred clichés here. It was an honour. A privilege. An opportunity of a lifetime. All of those things it was. But until you find yourself in the position we did, you’ve no idea the buzz that comes with it. This was no ordinary park and this was no ordinary game. I pondered the thought, do they bring in a flock of pure bred Wicklow mountain sheep just to cut the grass to its impeccably sheared state? Then water it with pure Donegal rain? I was getting carried away.

The Saturday was fabulous. Sitting in a rooftop bar in the scorching sunshine watching the Tyrone vs Kerry game in Dublin city. And seeing that stadium on a giant screen in all its glory gave us all a real sense of the sheer size of the place. So the nerves kicked in a little. I had to have a prosecco or two to steady them.

Excitement

We were up early on Sunday morning, gathering at Croke Park for 11am. It was 29 degrees. Another scorcher. Danny Boyle was like a mother hen rounding us up and keeping us together. Security was tight. I think it would’ve been easier to get into the Pentagon. Compulsory bag checks and security wrist bands. And we were well warned. No shenanigans. We were to go in to this place like we had Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak over the top of us. I mean we’re quite the squad so we don’t do things quietly or unnoticed.

We were lead to our dressing room, which was a small cupboard of a space really that looked busy when half a dozen of us were in it. There was one gents and one ladies toilet, which made changing into band uniforms somewhat of a challenge. So of course there were shenanigans. And a great deal of craic. Adding to this, the place was like an underground inferno and the pressure to be ready and organised was getting to us all. Folk were flapping and cries of: ‘Damn I forgot to bring a black bra!’ ‘Anyone got a spare pair of gloves?’ ‘I think I’ve lost my tie. Anyone seen a size 5 black sanny?’ ‘I’ve lost the top of my flag pole,’ ‘I’ve no red lipstick. Who has lipstick?’ were heard as we scrambled to get our act together. One of the lads even managed to pack the wrong black shirt, which he had to nerve to blame his wife for by the way. Seems that she’d packed their ten-year-old daughter’s blouse instead of his own shirt, so he looked like the Incredible Hulk, like he was about to burst out of it at any second.

And in the middle of it we had a Croke Park official giving out like he was in the Gestapo. Let’s just say the man ran a tight ship. I did feel he could’ve been doing with some yoga breathing, or a pint or two maybe? Anyway, our one and only Danny Boyle took the hit. Cool, calm, collected Danny. Not a flicker out of him.

TV stars!

The RTÉ and BBC TV crews were stationed right beside us. I did have the idea to ‘make friends with the cameraman,’ you know like that scene out of Grease? But it wouldn’t have mattered if I’m honest. I think any one of us could have strutted bare arsed out of that changing room and they wouldn’t have given a fiddler’s fart. For the true stars of

the day had arrived in a huge white coach with McGuinness emblazoned across the front of it and sign that read ‘Dun na nGall Senior Football Team.’

We were lucky enough to get a bit of a practice run through as we were playing at half-time in the Junior Championship Final between London and New York. It was ideal and gave us a good sense of the pitch size and how far we had to walk on and where to line up and so on. For me, this was when the real nerves kicked in, because we really did get a true sense of the size of the place and, although the stadium wasn’t even half full at that point, it scared the bejesus out of me.

And then the WhatsApps started flying in. I had cousins and friends in the crowd. Hubby, my brother-in-law and nephew were all there to cheer us on and wish us well. Texts from Glasgow came in. People asking where they could watch the game. Others wishing us good luck. When the time came for us to go on, we were lined up in a tunnel. Donegal were all over Meath and the crowd were going mental, which added to our anticipation. My legs were shaking. I hadn’t eaten that morning because I felt so nervous. I hadn’t felt anywhere near as nervous when we competed at the All-Ireland, which was strange. But I told myself; Lyn, just get out there and enjoy it! And I did. We all did. In fact it’s up there with one of the best experiences of my life, which we all pretty much concluded in our post-game pub chats. It was quite surreal. A feeling and an experience we won’t ever forget.

What we hadn’t anticipated was the cameraman who walked up and down our lines, zooming in on us and following our every move throughout the entire performance, and his camera was projected onto the stadiums giant screen. So once again the WhatsApps were flying with family and friends sending us videos of ourselves in action. What was fairly obvious was no one could have wiped the smiles off our faces that day.

We got to watch the rest of the game with our families, which was brilliant. A sea of green and yellow floating in front of us. Jimmy was winning matches alright. He even put in an appearance after the game and had his photo taken with the children. Then we all headed to the pub. Sure where else would we go? When in Dublin an’ all that. We had much to celebrate. A Donegal victory and day we won’t ever forget.

I have a little fridge magnet that has this quote on it: “Life’s not about the breaths we take, but the moments that take our breath away!” Croke Park was one of those moments. In fact, I feel like that about this entire last year, because not one of us would ever have dreamed that we would win the All-Ireland, go on to march in Glasgow’s long overdue St Patrick’s Day Parade, lead the London St Patrick’s Day Parade and play at the All Ireland semi-final at Croke Park. And more than that, we have created an incredible marching band family.

L J Sexton, mum of four, returned to university to pursue her passion for the written word. She achieved her Honours Degree in English Literature and Creative Writing and hasn't stopped writing since. Lyn is born of Irish parents and lived in Donegal for eight years. She is also the press officer for Irish Minstrels CCÉ music group based in St Roch’s Secondary School