Little pockets of the Royal County are forever Mayo

A MAYO flag flying from a pub in Kentstown, Co Meath, tells a tale

A MAYO flag flying from a pub in Kentstown, Co Meath, tells a tale. Back in the 1950s and early 1960s, a government resettlement programme introduced farmers from the west to available land in Meath.

Since then, there have been little pockets of the Royal County which are forever Mayo. In Gibbstown, near Navan, there is even a Mayo Road to remind posterity, while some of the hardiest seeds sown in the Meath soil had names such as Lyons Kerrigan and O'Malley.

"In some ways, they made football what it is in this county", says Sean Monaghan, the owner of the pub in Kentstown. But, as a Meath man himself, who has played a big role with one of the county's best clubs, Seneschalstown, he has his own reasons for the flag. He owned a pub in Cong for several years and Saturday night next there will be busloads of Mayo supporters visiting his current establishment for a night of craic before the final.

Down the road, at Kentstown National School, there will be no such welcome for the westerners. "We're going to kill them", is one of the more printable suggestions, courtesy of Paul Clarke (11), a half back on the Seneschalstown under 12 team.

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Less aggressive but no less confident is Lorraine Geraghty (nearly 10), one of about 60 pupils who claim to be related to her namesake, Graham, past pupil of the school and pride of the parish. She predicts Meath will win by 12 points, most of them scored by her cousin.

Asked if they think Meath are as tough as has been suggested, the male contingent in the school choruses a raucous "Yes".

Suspicion of the media hangs over Carlinstown, too, where several Meath people have told me - that a certain Paddy O'Connell is a great man to talk about football".

As Paddy is opening the door to me, I remember that his son, Martin, was at the centre of controversial allegations in the semi final, and I fear I've been set up. Meath people insist that Martin has a personality which would make St Francis look aggressive.

Paddy assures me that he is not at all a great man to talk and tells me, without prompting: "We had a big fire here last month. We burned all the newspapers.

I try another tack, bringing up a suggestion attributed to him on the subject of referees, "that there should be one of them shot every week as a means of concentrating the minds of the others".

He assures me that wasn't him at all. He was only quoting another man who made the comment "maybe 50 years ago", he says.

Much of the green and gold bunting in Meath has been created from plastic fertiliser bags. But in the bigger towns like Kells the bunting is being mass produced and sold by Rehab, a fact proudly proclaimed by shopkeeper and councillor, Brian Curran.

Since there are a few square feet of the town still uncovered - his shop is not among them - Mr Curran is surveying the ongoing work from his doorway. He's just ushered out the Star when he welcomes The Irish Times without a pause for breath.

He thanks the paper for helping his campaign to stop the relocation of the town's famous High Cross and assures me it will be the focal point for the celebrations when the Sam Maguire comes to town.

Back in Seneschalstown, 80 year old Conor Brennan can remember being at All Ireland finals in the 1920s when - he swears - homing pigeons were released from Croke Park at halftime to bring the score to the provinces of Ireland.

Frank McNally

Frank McNally

Frank McNally is an Irish Times journalist and chief writer of An Irish Diary