RUTHLESS TYRONE

17 September 2021 No Comments by The Northern Standard

In his All-Ireland final post mortem, JACK MADDEN dissects Mayo’s melancholy and concludes that Tyrone’s clinical game management struck the fatal blow

This was the year the phoenix was supposed to rise from the ashes. One with a youthful innocence, an arrogant ignorance to all the hurt. This was supposed to be a new beginning. And in some sort of twisted world, it is. The emotion is left to fester in the form of a rock, sitting in the throats of those who are now known as losers. Thoughts are beyond them, words are an impossible prospect. It seems that all they know is suffering, but even this is too much.

What good is experience when it’s laced with torture? “Sometimes I fantasize When the streets are cold and lonely And the cars they burn below me Don’t these times fill your eyes? When the streets are cold and lonely And the cars they burn below me.” The booming streets of Drumcondra can be so easily sapped of all kinds of happiness. Even where positivity exists, it is so easily blocked out by the rising pile in the ash tray. The pint glasses are sad from the moment they are filled. When they are emptied, they feel…

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