Okay nurse, call it. Time of death, 44 minutes. No need to look at the scoreboard. The sight of Michael Murphy exiting the pitch tells you all you need to know.
Throughout the 2025 championship, the Murphy scale has generally been the best way of judging how a Donegal game is going. The longer he’s on the field, the less certain the outcome. If you see the fourth official hold up the number 14, start thinking about beating the traffic.
Against Cavan, Murphy came off in the 53rd minute and Donegal won by 19. Against Louth, it was 51 minutes for a 16-point win. Conversely, he played the whole game in the defeat to Tyrone and also against Mayo when they squeaked it by a point.
So when Jim McGuinness called him ashore here with Donegal 1-15 to 0-10 up against Meath, you could take it the Donegal manager was satisfied the job was done. Murphy had just scored his sixth point of the day and came away from it with a slight limp. When McGuinness asked him if he was okay, Murphy waved a dismissing hand in his direction. McGuinness told Patrick McBrearty to get ready anyway.
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“No, just a wee bang,” Murphy said when we asked him afterwards if there was any injury. “Just one of those things. It was just kind of impeding me a wee bit. But it’s done and Paddy came in and was phenomenal.”
This day last year, Murphy was sitting in the BBC box at the corner of the Hogan and Davin stands, swapping lip with Philly McMahon, Oisín McConville and Mickey Harte. Down on the pitch, Donegal were running out of puff against Galway, their season hitting a wall like a try-hard marathon runner at mile 19. This time around, they’re driving on while the pretenders wilt, one by one by one. His part in it all has been immense.
“I was coming back to help in every way possible that I could,” he says. “Whether it was for five minutes in a game, whether it was to help training, whether it was whatever else – that’s really what was in my head. You probably weren’t going to be back the same way you were – that’s always the way when you push on in years and you’re not playing football for a couple of years.
“So I’ve made peace with that and that’s what I continue to make peace with. What way can you help the team? What way can you help the county? That’s the kind of mindset that I was on and that I probably still am in.”
Murphy talked to us outside the Donegal dressingroom, his green cap pulled down over his brow, his cartoon jawline as sharp and sheer as it ever was. He’ll be 36 next month, a few days after the final. No sooner had he sat in among the Donegal subs than one of the Donegal physios jumped in beside him with a bumper bag of ice for the bang. Every second they can save him is critical.
He was his usual Swiss Army Knife self here. He whipped Donegal’s opening point after floating on to an unsuspecting Conor Duke in the second minute. His two-point free into the Hill soon after was the only two-pointer scored at that end of the pitch on a day when there was a strong wind against. He came out and won a kick-out break when Meath were starting to get purchase in the middle third, starting a move that ended with a Ryan McHugh point.
This has been the Michael Murphy that Donegal asked for. His shooting is as precise as it ever was. His bouldness hasn’t been found wanting either – he should have picked up yet another yellow card here for a late hit on Seán Rafferty in the first half. But most of all, his game sense and his feel for what needs to happen at a given moment is foundational to what they do.
Murphy’s last act before going off here was to commandeer a free-kick from McHugh over the Hogan Stand sideline. He did nothing in particular with it – McHugh hared off down the line to draw a defender before Murphy flicked a kick-pass back into the middle of the field, and in fact Donegal lost the ball soon after.
But what was so noticeable about it was that the Donegal players deferred to their on-field high chief, even a 12-year veteran like Ryan McHugh. As Meath broke downfield after the turnover, Murphy was literally waving the Donegal players back into position, like a platoon sergeant overseeing the protection of a vital bridge.
So now he’s here, back in an All-Ireland final. He shook his head afterwards at the suggestion that this is what it was all for, that this is why he came back. Maybe he was lying, sensible chap that he is. Or maybe he is actually living in the moment, just as he’s done since McGuinness brought him back. Both things can be true.
“It’s just to be part of it. It’s just being part of the team. That’s what I’ve enjoyed so far, being back here. You’re just part of the group, part of the team. You’re a cog in the wheel.
“We’ll get up the road now, get at it, get ready. Paddy spoke very well there as captain in terms of the stuff that All-Irelands bring. Silly stuff and stupid stuff, enjoyable stuff and energy-sapping stuff. You’re trying to just bring whatever you can bring to that.”
