Back around 2012, Billy O’Shea was engrossed in his business at his pub in Killorglin, a welcoming place where everyone from various backgrounds could enjoy a drink. One fine day, the atmosphere was electric and a man from Clare was sitting at the bar, he turned his phone to O’Shea, telling him that someone wanted to converse with him. The Clareman, all beaming, had called Kieran O’Mahony from Doonbeg. Even though many might not know who O’Mahony was, O’Shea did not need a hint.
It was almost twenty years since that unforgettable 1992 Munster final when O’Mahony had marked O’Shea. That day started with O’Shea scoring the first point but ended with a historic win for Clare football. Afterwards, O’Shea was never able to make another breakthrough against O’Mahony. Even two decades later, he was reminded that the day’s events still lingered.
The tale of Clare’s victory over Kerry in the 1992 Munster final was one that every local knew. They were familiar with John Maughan’s coaching strategies, the late entry and scoring of Martin Daly, and Marty Morrissey’s confident declaration that not a single cow would be milked in Clare for a week. These events became legendary, capturing the imaginations of generations even before they made the evening news.
Understandably, the version of the story from the Kerry camp didn’t receive as much attention. In a county that had long-standing traditions of illustrious teams, there were only a handful burdened with notoriety. They attempted to maintain silence on the topic as best they could, following a policy of “Don’t ask, don’t tell”.
Later the same day, when asked if he would forget that day, Stephen Stack responded, “How could I? It’s as entrenched in my memory as the birth of my children.”
Anthony Gleeson, who now works in plant hire in London after retiring from football, is familiar with bumping into Irish fans given the bustling city’s diverse population. More than three decades have gone by since he played as a full-back for Kerry, but encounters with enthusiastic admirers of the sport are inevitable.
He recalls an amusing incident from 2017, where he was invited to a celebratory event in Clare. This was a tribute to past players, however, he chose to decline the invitation humorously stating he had been ‘trying to get over it’ for the past 25 years. His decision was likely shared by many of his peers, who were part of an era labelled as ‘the famine’, marking a barren period in Kerry’s football history.
The transition period in question spans over a decade, from 1986 to 1997, during which the team failed to secure an All-Ireland title under managers Mick O’Dwyer and Páidí Ó Sé. This represents the longest dry spell since Kerry claimed their first victory in 1903.
As time passed, several key players stepped down from the team. Among them were Mikey, Páidí and Ogie in 1987, followed by Ger Lynch and Ger Power in 1988, Charlie Nelligan and Pat Spillane in 1991. Bomber Liston stepped away for a while but made a comeback in 1993. The last championship game for robust veterans Jack O’Shea and Ambrose O’Donovan took place during this period.
Parallely, the ’92 final marked the first appearance for an 18-year-old Séamus Moynihan, fresh from completing his secondary education. Peter O’Leary, Billy O’Shea and Karl O’Dwyer also made their debut in a Munster final during this period.
Stack, the sole player from both the 1986 and 1997 teams, explains how their team was in constant transformation over the years. He recounts when Páidí lead the evolution along with other key players such as Darragh Ó Sé and Dara Ó Cinnéide. This shift was a move from traditional to contemporary strategies.
In contrast to Clare, composed of stalwarts with over a year’s winning streak including 12 of their 13 preceding matches and the All-Ireland B. When it came to the decisive moment, they held the advantage and emerged victorious by a margin of four points, not a fluke as per Stack but a well-deserved victory.
Since 1917, Clare had not been triumphant in Munster, with only Kerry and Cork securing wins since 1935 until 2020. Remarkably, Maughan’s squad became Clare football’s most famed while simultaneously, Mickey Ned O’Sullivan’s team found itself in a Kerry crisis hitherto unseen.
O’Shea recalls the critique and fury that ricocheted following their loss. His recollection of a newspaper headline, ‘The humiliation of Kerry,’ epitomises their plight. The team and management alike suffered backlash and mockery, making acceptance of their defeat a hard pill to swallow.
Around this time, Gleeson and Connie Murphy, both residents of Dublin, chose to dodge the ensuing fallout in Kerry. After the conclusive blow of the final whistle, the pair agreed to head back to Dublin, leaving their teammates to confront the anticipated wrath of their disappointed fans.
Gleeson recounts how he took a four to five-month hiatus from returning home. He was able to distance himself from the world during a time where social media and mobile phones didn’t exist. He would often join his teammate Teddy O’Dowd and a group from John Mitchels in Rathmines for a pint or two every Thursday at Madigan’s. Teddy would always bring along a few copies of the ‘Kerryman’ for everyone to read.
Yet he made sure to avoid their meeting the following Thursday, not wanting to be there while everyone dissected the news in his presence. He waited several weeks before he dared to reappear.
Still in Kerry, his teammates didn’t have the same chance to hide. Stack found temporary respite at the Horseshoe Bar in Listowel, trying to stay hidden. However, his cover was blown inadvertently by an unsuspecting Clare local, who passionately delivered a monologue about Kerry’s overconfidence causing their defeat.
Allowing the stranger to go on for a quarter of an hour before excusing himself, Stack left his friends to enlighten the man. He came back to find Ger Colleran – who would later become the editor of the Kerryman and the Irish Star – shocked at his blunder. Now aware that he had been unknowingly criticizing Stephen Stack, a member of the Kerry team, Colleran was deeply apologetic.
Describing the encounter years later, Stack paints an amusing image of Colleran holding his head in his hands and feverishly apologising, even offering Stack a free punch at him in compensation. Even now, they share a hearty laugh whenever they recount the encounter.
In British English terms, Stack and O’Shea eventually found solace in being part of the subsequent Kerry squad that clinched the coveted Sam Maguire trophy. Gleeson pursued the sport until 1996, yet by the next year, he had called it a day, partly due to residing in Dublin and somewhat at odds with Páidí Ó Sé, being only 26 when his career with Kerry came to a halt.
Gleeson featured in three Munster finals, all ending in defeat – a rare statistic for a Kerryman and one most, if not all, wouldn’t covet. This was the harsh reality of a time when Kerry was merely one of many, living a rather mundane existence much like the rest of the nation.
Gleeson asserts that they poured everything into their efforts, but couldn’t secure the victory. Their stint playing for Kerry meant representing the team in green and gold, before passing the mantle onto the next generation. That, according to him, was all they could do.
The men were proud members of the Kerry football team, and no amount of defeat could tarnish that.