GAA IN FOCUS: UMPIRESSTEVIE O'DONNELL watched the end of the Limerick v Wexford qualifier unfold on The Sunday Game the same as you did, the same as we all did. Except he saw it through one of the only pairs of eyes that could find sympathy for Pat O'Toole, the umpire who waved Ian Ryan's free-kick wide before being he was overruled. O'Donnell was one of Paddy Russell's right-hand (left-post) men for over a decade, right up until the Tipp referee retired in 2009.
Back in 2004, he found himself in more or less the same pickle as O’Toole did last Saturday night. He was that soldier, albeit in a less snazzy white coat.
When Westmeath centre-forward Brian Morley shot across goal 20 minutes into their Leinster championship opener against Offaly in Croke Park that May, O’Donnell knew straight away that the ball had gone wide. Morley was shooting into the Hill 16 end and O’Donnell was standing – as he always did – on the Cusack Stand post and could see that it had missed the upright “by at least a foot”. But then the Hogan Stand-side umpire put him on the spot by pointing over, the signal to put up his white flag.
“At that stage,” says O’Donnell, “I quite clearly waved my arms between my legs down low to say, ‘No’. I was conscious that this was going to be on The Sunday Game that night and I wanted us to get it right without making a big deal out of it. But he was adamant that it went over the bar and at that point I had to take his word for it. I had no choice but to wave the flag.
“Now, to me that was a definite case of bad communication between two umpires. I was as certain as I could be that the ball was wide but the other umpire was too stubborn to have his mind changed. I could do nothing about it other than to wonder if maybe I was wrong. The players were in giving out to him and the crowd went ballistic.”
Westmeath beat Offaly by just a single point in the end. There was pub talk of a replay being sought after it was shown that the ball clearly went wide but Westmeath carried on regardless. They carried on to win their first ever Leinster title, all of which might never have happened had O’Donnell put his foot down. Talk about the flap of a butterfly’s wings.
The life of an umpire. It’s a rum existence, truth be told. An umpire doesn’t get a cent in expenses. He gets a meal but no mileage. He gets all the abuse but none of the recognition. It’s not unusual for a referee to get a plaque or trinket of some sort from a provincial council for taking charge of, say, the Ulster final. It’s unheard of for an umpire to see much more than a cup of tea and a bun for his troubles.
Banty McEnaney was an umpire in a former life, backing up his brother Pat on some of the Monaghan referee’s biggest days.
If you happen to have a DVD handy of the 2004 All-Ireland final, jump forward to the 25th minute and watch as Colm Cooper catches a high ball, turns and slaloms past two Mayo defenders before sliding that lovely left-foot finish to the net.
It’s one of the great All Ireland final goals and McEnaney has the best view in the house, standing right by the post.
“Best view in the house?” he laughs. “Naw, I wouldn’t put it that way. When you’re umpiring in those big games, they’re not enjoyable at all. The reality is it’s pure stress. You’re fully tuned in to making sure your referee doesn’t end up looking bad. You’re watching for where a ball might land, where you should be positioned, who’s in around the square, who’s doing any off-the-ball messing, who hit it last, where a 45 should be, everything.
“It’s definitely not enjoyable, no doubt about it, no way. Basically when I put on the white coat, I was going out thinking that I had to support this man in whatever way I can. You’re not there for the match. I’ve come away from tight games not even knowing who won or if it was a draw. You’re concentrating that hard.”
The occupational hazards are legion. A July sun beaming in over the top of the Canal End goal and you standing in front of the Hill is a killer. Stare into it while you’re tracking a shot and you’ll most likely lose the ball for a few seconds. Same with the floodlights in Parnell Park, the brightest in the country. Players kicking high balls that go directly over the post and whipping the crowd into a frenzy to make up the umpire’s mind for him don’t make life easy either.
“Ciarán Whelan and Oisín McConville used to do that the whole time,” says O’Donnell. “They always kicked it very high and then turned and waved their fist into the crowd so as to make it look like it was inside the post. But that’s the time when you make sure you stand up and be counted.
“Let’s call a spade a spade here. You have to have the balls for it. You have to have the neck for it. If you can’t handle it, you should not be there. You will get called all sorts of names and get all sorts of abuse. But if the ball is gone over the post, then it’s wide. The whole of the ball must be inside the upright. That’s the rule.”
Despite all the hullabaloo this summer, it’s actually been the first season in which every umpire has completed a training course.
“It’s compulsory now at national level,” says Mick Curley, chairman of the national referees’ committee. “That will be fed down to provincial level. They do a one-day course where they’re given instruction on positioning, signals, protocols, things like that . . . There were courses there before for umpire training but it’s now on a more official level.”
O’Donnell went on some of those old courses, night-time jobs in hotel function rooms in Thurles, Limerick and Cork.
It was comical stuff at times. The attendees would be given a slide-show and a talk and then told to split up into groups of five or six to take a test.
“But sure we didn’t do the tests individually!” he says.
“You’d be told to work it out between yourselves and one man take the pen and fill in the sheet. Now, you might know the answers to the questions but there’d be fellas in your group who wouldn’t know the half of them. They may have a clue of a percentage of them but all they would do is agree with you on this, that and the other. And sure everybody got a pass then.”
You would dismiss them as the bad old days but O’Donnell did his last match just two years ago. When Russell hit 50, he reached the cut-off point for refereeing but as O’Donnell points out, no such cut-off exists for umpires. Indeed, umpiring is how a lot of retired referees spend their golden years. Curley says they have no trouble getting enough people.
For O’Donnell, now co-ordinator of the west Tipperary referees’ committee, strong numbers don’t necessarily mean strong umpires.
“I think some of the umpiring you see these days is a joke, to be honest. Umpires need to work as a team. They need to communicate with each other and with their referee. I would say it would be no harm if they were younger and fitter than they are now as well. Some of them can’t even zip up the jacket!”
In return, he’d hope to see some respect come back for men he says are treated “like second-class citizens”. He tells a story about the 1999 Ulster final between Armagh and Down in Clones. Mary McAleese was to meet the teams and an Ulster Council official came in to inform Russell that he and his linesmen were to stand in between the two teams to shake hands with the president before throw-in.
O’Donnell wasn’t having it. If the president was meeting match officials, well, umpires were match officials too.
So he made sure he and the other three men in white coats were lined up behind the red carpet. When the Ulster Council official came down to move them, O’Donnell sent him away with a flea in his ear. “G’wan now and sit in the stand,” he said. “I’m a match official just as the rest of these men are.” At which point Jarlath Burns, the Armagh captain who was standing beside him, corpsed into a fit of laughter. “Fair play to you boy,” he said.
Not too many men tell the Ulster Council what’s what, not in Clones on Ulster final day. But these days, when the President meets the teams and the officials, she meets the umpires too. A little respect, that’s all.
Waving the white flag: Umpiring controversies
Kerry v Tipperary, Munster SFC first round, Austin Stack Park, Tralee; 23 May 1999
A high ball in around the Tipperary house was tapped down by Maurice Fitzgerald and collected by debutant corner forward Jerry Murphy. When his shot whizzed past the head of a ducking near-post umpire and rebounded off the outside of the side-netting stanchion straight into his hands, he finished to the net. The umpire assumed it had hit the post and gave the goal. Tipp considered not coming out for the second half and later looked for a replay but the Munster council turned them down.
Offaly v Westmeath, Leinster SFC first round, Croke Park, Dublin; 23 May 2004
Westmeath centre forward Brian Morley bore down on the Hill 16 goal from the Cusack Stand side but although he kicked the ball about a foot wide of the Hogan Stand upright, the umpire on that side called for the white flag. Westmeath ended up beating Offaly by a point, their first win over their neighbours for 55 years. The Leinster council said there could only be a replay if Westmeath offered one. They didn't.
Laois v Offaly, Leinster SFC quarter-final O'Moore Park, Portlaoise; 19 June 1995
Most notable for the fact that a replay was offered and accepted. Mick Turley came off the bench and kicked a "point" with hardly any time left. The ball was wide but the Laois players pressured the umpire into giving it. Laois won by a point but agreed in the dressing room afterwards to offer Carlow a replay a week later. They won by a goal.
Louth v Meath, Leinster final Croke Park, Dublin; 11 July 2010
With Louth about to win their first Leinster title since 1957, a high ball caused chaos in the Louth square which ended up with Joe Sheridan diving over the goalline with the ball in his hand as he tried to swing a boot at it. Referee Martin Sludden instructed his umpires to award the goal. Cue mayhem.
