Colin Corkery, all chilled-out attitude and fancy boots, is gearing up foranother kicking display against Kerry tomorrow, writes Keith Duggan
You have to hand it to a guy who wears the first ever pair of champagne colour boots to grace Croke Park and celebrates their debut by kicking six points.
You have to stand up and applaud because all the indications are that you are on a hiding to nothing running around in novelty boots during high-pressure GAA games. Champagne and the GAA do not share a very famous history. At least it will be news to most if Christy Ring celebrated his All-Irelands by quaffing merrily with a select gathering underneath the old Hogan Stand. Champers is not, traditionally, the preferred tipple of the heroes and as a colour, it has also been ignored.
You can be sure that the very idea of champagne boots is enough to boil the blood of many a good Gael. And wearing them would, at various times and in certain places, be as good as issuing a general invitation to opponents to inflict grievous bodily harm on both the flamboyant footwear and their foolish model. Indeed, it would come as no great surprise if, buried somewhere deep in the articles of association is printed a sub-clause advising strongly against, if not actually banning, studded boots of hues that vary from black.
Colin Corkery knew the risks when he tried on his dark gold weapons. He knew and he didn't care. His first departure from convention was in Thurles in the Munster football final against Tipperary. He wore a pair of all-white rhythm-and-blues that day and during the parade, the public stared at the pigeon-toed walk of the Cork captain with a mixture of delight and fear.
Caps were tilted in honour of the old Galway hurling hero, Gerry McInerney, a man who won All-Irelands in whitewashed shoes. But that was the 1980s, when none of us knew any better. Gerry wore a mahogany tan too, for heaven's sake. (How wonderful it would have been if he had borrowed Conor Hayes's gold helmet for a day).
But early this summer, people looked at the Big Fella with the jersey loose and the fringe flapping in the breeze and on his feet these dazzling things that would have stolen the show in a Fred Astaire movie. And naturally enough they asked why. Cork fans, not easily shook, gulped. A murmur of hope flitted through the Tipperary sections.
"I suppose that first day, there was a small fear in the back of my mind that I would have a bad game," says Corkery now.
"Because people didn't realise the reason behind it and might have thought I was just being a Fancy Dan. But you can't do anything about people's perceptions of you anyhow so I just got on with it."
But although Cork struggled through to a draw, Corkery gave another of the kicking exhibitions that have lit up this prosaic football summer and afterwards the point of the boots became clear. Adidas had approached the Cork forward to wear customised boots with each championship game that would later be auctioned off to charity for the children's unit at Cork University Hospital.
He sported another pair of bleached boots for the replay, getting a 0-11 return which began with a stunning three points in the first five minutes. The champagne pair was chosen for the win against Mayo in Croke Park and tomorrow, for Kerry, he will wear metallic red.
Only someone with Corkery's temperament could execute a gesture that, in the climate of absolute conformity and conservatism that dictates GAA life today, has to be regarded as very daring.
But it is also appropriate that it is Corkery that took the dare. Since bursting onto the national scene in the summer of 1993, his approach and attitude have been singular. Six feet four inches tall, more chilled out than New Orleans and a prodigious kicking talent.
In his first season, it appeared as if the depths of Corkery's talents were limitless but over the years, he suffered from the Big Man syndrome that is rife in the GAA. Like Liam McHale, the more he gave, the more was demanded and because of his nonchalant style and sheer size, he made for an easy target.
Six years passed between Corkery's All-Ireland final appearance in 1993 and the Rebel County's next. But in 1999, Corkery was no longer on the team. "I watched the game on Hill 16. It was fairly simple really; I just couldn't give the time because of work. There would have been a situation where I was making training one night a week and that wouldn't have been fair on myself or the players.
Larry (Tompkins) met me several times that season with a view to bringing me in but I was convinced I was doing the right thing. And I don't regret it because I thoroughly enjoyed that All-Ireland weekend, it showed me a side of the GAA I had forgotten about.
We went up the night before, had the crack, went along to the Hill. And sure, there was a bit of slagging from the Cork fans and at the back of my mind was the thought I could be out there. But I wouldn't have been right for it."
When he did return, they cocked their rifles and took aim at his size. Even in his first season, Corkery had heft, 15 stone of it. In 2000 and last season, the mass had accumulated as the player spent the season picking off delicate points for Nemo and Cork, maintaining a dignified silence.
His condition led to chortles on The Sunday Game, but his detractors were ignoring the obvious. Corkery was proof that size doesn't matter. In the park by the Lee on Munster final day last year, he gave Kerry's Séamus Moynihan, one of the game's all-time great defenders, a torrid hour and kicked a series of sublime scores.
Afterwards, the taunts about his bulk subsided and this year it has not been an issue. If the mocking bothered Corkery he hid it well.
"The way I experience things now is completely different to how it was when I started playing football. I handled pressure differently then; things got to me more easily.
"I think there was a sense in the squad that we were very well prepared for this year and although there might not have been all that much expectation throughout Cork, we felt we were capable of doing something."
His personal championship began with a statement of intent, when he guided a mammoth free through the heavy rain in Killarney in the drawn game against Kerry. The big man contributed five of eight that day and registered six of 15 points in the strange replayed win over Kerry.
"That was a sad situation. We knew how difficult it was for all the Kerry players, with the Ó Sés having buried a father and a brother. Those circumstances can work either for you or against you and for Kerry, it was somewhere in between. They obviously wanted to do well but at the same time it was apparent that they hadn't time to put in the preparation.
"So we certainly didn't go away from that game thinking we had destroyed Kerry or anything. It was a gloomy atmosphere and understandably so. From a Cork point of view, we wished the game could have been postponed to give the Kerry lads time to come to terms with what happened but that wasn't possible. And we knew they would come strongly through the back door system."
While Kerry seemed to invent an entirely new personality for the team, Cork cantered through the straight-forward route, erasing Tipperary in the Munster final replay and then eliminating Mayo. The only hiccup was the botched substitution fiasco that called into question their Munster title. Corkery, though, was never seriously worried. "I suppose," he says with a laugh, "with a county board like ours there, you learn not to sweat about too much."
But the silverware mattered to him, perhaps more than he realised. "It did, you know, over time you come to realise how hard it is to fully win anything. My ambitions now are to win an All-Ireland with Nemo and with Cork or at least to keep trying until I am gone."
The path to another All-Ireland is blocked by Cork's deadly old foes. It could be no other way. For the past two weeks, Corkery has looked on with fascination at the machinations that have shook the Kingdom. For him, the Darragh Ó Sé issue is clear-cut.
"Growing up, I was always taught that you want to play against the best. Personally, I would be saddened if Darragh wasn't out on that pitch on Sunday. Especially with both of us being captains, we get to meet and shake hands and have the bit of chat before the coin is tossed. That is important. I'm not condoning what was done but from a football perspective, you want to meet the best opposition possible and Darragh is as good as they come."
For many, the highlight of the day will be the latest tussle between Corkery and Moynihan. The two met at the All Star ceremony last year and talked deep into the night.
"Just about everything that had happened to us. It is great to be able to do that when everything has settled down. And Séamus, of course, is an absolute gentleman on and off the field. And going out to play against him never changes, you know that you are facing one of the truly great defenders of the game."
Few would argue with that. But what of Corkery? The Big Fella has never really considered his own legacy. Accolades and awards are fine but he regards them with a pinch of salt. He is 31 now, with two children and a busy work schedule. Cormac, the oldest, is three and is just beginning to understand that what his father does on Sunday afternoons might be worth a look.
The videotapes are there for posterity anyway. It would be a crime, after all, not to catalogue those boots. And the outrageous things they did.
