Before the evening of 26th May, 1974, there was no such entity known as ‘The Dubs’. Dublin’s football squad were regarded as more or less a hopeless cause, frequently shadowed by stronger teams. The transformation to The Dubs did not take place just after May 26th but it was the year when they clinched an All-Ireland title and revolutionised the GAA. However, that’s a separate tale.
In the genesis of this narrative, there is a missing pivotal moment. That particular day when Dublin squared off against Wexford at the inaugural round of the Leinster championship was merely a build-up to the league final rematch between Kerry and Roscommon at Croke Park. Both games were worlds apart within the realm of football.
The quality of football shown was raw, lacking finesse. As Tony Hanahoe put it, “we felt like we were merely an amusing prelude to the real show.” Hanahoe played as the centre forward that day and Alan Larkin was the defensive centrepiece for Dublin. “The match with Wexford brought nothing but humiliation for both teams,” states Larkin. Every lacklustre game, after all, is a result of collective poor performances.
The Irish Independent remarked that Dublin would have easily outpaced Wexford had they exhibited half the spirit and drive of league champions Kerry. The Irish Press reaffirmed that any prospects of Dublin posing a threat to Offaly’s provincial title were slim to none.
It had been almost a ten-year dry spell for Dublin since they last claimed the Leinster title. Over the past four seasons they had been defeated by Louth, Kildare, Longford and Laois, none of whom went on to win the title. Before the commencement of the 1974 championship, Dublin were given odds of 8/1 to triumph in Leinster; these odds plummeted to 10/1 post the Wexford encounter.
Reflecting back, Hanahoe mentions, “I reckon the odds would have been a staggering 1,000/1 for Dublin even reaching the final of the All-Ireland tournament, let alone lifting the trophy.”
The odds were stacked against them at 33-1, a figure which perfectly portrayed their slim chances. “We were lost,” recalls Paddy Cullen. “We had no idea of our direction. At that point, we were just relieved to have made it through the match and waited for what came next. But it was clear… we were directionless.”
How could such a situation arise? What was the cause?
There’s a growing fable that Kevin Heffernan gallantly arrived on the scene in 1974,” stated David Walsh in his retrospective piece on The Dubs published in January 1989’s edition of Magill magazine.
Contrary to the myth, Heffernan had been a presence for a long period of time. He led Dublin to an All-Ireland victory in 1958 and was a selector when they claimed victory once more five years on from that. He remained a prominent figure throughout much of the 1960s and also from 1970 to 1972. During these times, the role of a manager wasn’t recognised by GAA teams in the way it is today. Rather, selectors were appointed by county boards using age-old practices that seldom considered capability. In 1973, Heffernan was notably sidelined.
Hanahoe reflects, “We faced Kildare in Navan in 1972. With Kevin at the helm, me as the captain, we fully expected to be victorious over Kildare. However, things didn’t pan out. The Dublin county board saw a shift in management which led to Heffernan being ousted, me being relieved of my duties and quite a few players being dismissed. ‘Dismissed’ may seem harsh, but it encapsulates the situation well.”
But 1973 saw another switch in leadership. Jimmy Gray secured the position of chairman of the Dublin County board and he sought Heffernan’s involvement. Heffernan agreed to return under the condition that he’d not be burdened by an overstaffed committee of selectors and that he’d retain control. Two selectors, Donal Colfer and Lorcan Redmond, were appointed based on Heffernan’s approval. By contemporary definition, Heffernan became the manager.
In 1973, Dublin’s defeat by Louth in the championship was a turning point. It’s vividly reminisced by Cullen; Heffernan, afterwards, entered the Dublin changing room, mounting a wooden bench as if making a political promise. He boldly declared his intention of assembling a victorious team.
However, his statements sparked scepticism. Larkin reflected on criticisms from his peers at the Raheny club, questioning Dublin’s potential to achieve anything. His teammates echoed similar sentiments, sharing experiences of their doubts. Heffernan, nonetheless, sifted through numerous player profiles. Though some declined his offer, viewing it as pointless owing to low expectations of winning, he remained undeterred.
Heffernan devised a strategy anchored on agility, rapid ball movement, and prime physical condition. These elements were seen as mutually indispensable. His friend and ex-Dublin player, Mickey Whelan, was studying sports science in New York during this period. Heffernan enlisted Whelan’s help in creating novel and rigorous training briefs.
Heffernan voiced four critical observations in Magill magazine: the team’s lack of victories, inaction, depleted spirits, and non-existent self-confidence. Their goal was to instil in the players a unique value, by ensuring they were the nation’s most elite in terms of fitness.
That winter saw the Dublin players undertake circuit training at Coláiste Eoin in Finglas two evenings each week, among other pioneering techniques. Larkin recounts Heffernan’s initiative of developing steps to enhance the thigh and quad muscles, and tyre-based drills, which were new experiences for them. These strategies were eventually instrumental in their success.
Apart from the traditional training methods, some additional and unique exercises were incorporated. The regime included having medicine balls hurled onto their abdomens while they were lying on the grass, fists nestled beneath their derrières. They also carried out gut-punching activities in duos. Heffernan as a coach had also introduced a gruelling running workout labelled the “circle chase”. It involved players stationed five yards apart along the outline of a circle with commands to chase after the next player in line, in a mad dash. Those who could catch up were rewarded with brief pauses, whilst the caught ones had to endure the circle.
The exercises were far from popular with the team. Yet, this was intentional as Heffernan aimed to develop players resistant to different types of pain.
“Kevin signaled any willing quitter during our meeting at Parnell Park, our gathering place, to make use of the opportunity to leave since the journey was set to be grueling.” Cullen realised, “He wanted to assemble a team of durable men.”
During Heffernan’s initiation as the coach, in the later months of 1973, the National Football League was reorganised in a peculiar way. Following a match between Dublin and Roscommon — a left-over from the previous season — in which Dublin needed an eight-point win to steer clear from plummeting from Division One for the first time. However, Dublin lost disastrously by five points.
Consequently, Dublin was grouped with a bunch of teams who were typically languishing in the lower tier of the league: Waterford, Carlow, Limerick, Kilkenny, Clare, and Wexford, under “Group A of Division Two”; they were all later bumped to Division Three in the next season. It was a precedent for Dublin football being so sidelined.
The day they turned up for the Kilkenny match, they found a junior hurling county final already in progress with Nowlan Park packed to the rafters. Heffernan soon realised that there was a planning squabble and their football match was unlikely to start at the scheduled time. When this issue was brought to Paddy Grace, Kilkenny’s secretary, he proposed to just award the two points to Dublin if they couldn’t wait.
Hanahoe reminisces on the time when they competed against Kilkenny in Nowlan Park during the National Football League, noting how the crowd tampered from several thousand to mere hundreds by game time.
In the same year, Dublin experienced a defeat to Clare in Croke Park, falling behind by six points. Media outlets such as the Irish Independent criticised Dublin’s performance, urging them to focus on teamwork and relentless effort. They also pointed out the dwindling support they had.
Prior to their match against Wexford in the championship, Dublin faced Kildare in what was essentially the Division Two league final, a game they lost by seven points. An assembly of 4,049 spectators witnessed the match, indicating that both The Dubs and Heffo’s Army were practically imperceptible.
Following Dublin’s victory over Wexford secured by last-minute goals, Heffernan opted to stay at Croke Park to observe Kerry’s triumph over Roscommon in the league final. The outcome did little to uplift Heffernan’s spirits. He paints the picture of a clear divide in their skills, expressing his spirits sank as he embarked on his journey home that evening.
Heffernan would recite the events of his ride home quite often. Accompanied by his wife Mary, her friend Lily Jennings and Lily’s son Terry, the young boy pointed out something that changed the team’s momentum. Terry, a keen follower of St Vincent’s games, suggested Jimmy Keaveney’s skills for free-taking could be advantageous for Dublin. At the time, Heffernan didn’t consider Keaveney an option due to his physical condition and absence from the team. Nonetheless, influenced by Terry’s remark, he reached out to Keaveney, revealing it was a move he hadn’t contemplated in his half-year tenure as team manager.
When Keaveney resumed his training with Dublin the week after, it sent shockwaves through the team. They had all been through Heffernan’s gruelling winter training, giving everything they had. Then Keaveney showed up, akin to the first blossom of spring.
“I saw him coming to the practice,” remarked Robbie Kelleher some years on, “and I thought, ‘Blimey, just like Dublin. We clinch one match and they usher back the veteran from Vincent’s.’”
Several factors would play a pivotal role for Dublin to clinch the 1974 All-Ireland, and one of them was Keaveney’s return. They emerged victorious over Louth in the second round, with Keaveney contributing six points. He ended the year with a score of 1-36 and the All-Star for full-forward.
However, things did not fall into place instantly. The on-field strategy took time to blossom, with Hanahoe playing a pivotal role. Speaking to Seán Moran in a decade-old interview, the Wexford centre back Martin Quigley recalled the bewilderment caused by Hanahoe’s movements. He said, “I was utterly clueless about his whereabouts,”, “I vividly recall the feeling of thinking, ‘Where on earth has he disappeared to?’”
“Martin likely anticipated me standing next to him, but that wasn’t our plan,” says Hanahoe. “We had formulated a tactic to unsettle defences, free up space so that others could occupy that space to score. Bobby Doyle had a different task as a runner who could appear out of nowhere instead of sitting at one corner.”
In the first round against Wexford, the strategy was in its infancy, yet to fully evolve. The Irish Independent reported, “It wasn’t that Dublin lacked strategy,”, “rather they seemed uneasy while sticking to a plan which, currently, does not seem to come naturally to them.”
Yet, it begs the question. Did they believe they were onto something? “If during the early rounds of the ’74 championship there was a hint that we had something special,” said Anton O’Toole, “I was certainly not privy to it.”
Dublin won the All-Ireland. But that’s a tale for another time.