The Battle of Ballybofey

Rivalry in GAA can be a peculiar yet wonderful thing. Just last week we witnessed Armagh and Tyrone, separated by the Blackwater, mingle in the Clones sun with the usual banter filling the air such as they amount of All-Irelands to getting there first to apples and bushes. ‘Twas all light-hearted stuff as you would expect in May. Fast forward a couple of months and the heat in Dublin seems to bring out a more vicious element to their rivalry. I remember in 2005 walking down the steps from the upper Hogan after Armagh had turned Tyrone over in the final replay. I was observing a couple of dejected Tyrone fans mumble dejectedly in front of me. Just at that time, a smiling Armagh supporter happened to walk back up the steps, probably having forgotten something like a sandwich box or a flask. Well, the more savage-looking one of the Tyrone couple simple lifted his right arm and boxed the poor Orchard fellow full on the nose. There had been no previous eye contact. Yer man was out stone cold. There were a couple of tuts but the majority of fans just simply walked on. I was gob-smacked. That was a brutish example of sheer animal rivalry.

Soon we’ll be having the Derry-Tyrone get-together later this month. That takes it a wee bit further. I can remember back in the mid-80s when both sets of fans would have spent the week leading up to a match shunting their motors into each other in Cookstown. Armagh/Down, Derry/Antrim and Monaghan/Cavan all have their tales of ignorant confrontation. Yet there is one social occasion that gets my pulse racing – the meeting of Antrim and Donegal. They may be a the opposite ends of the province and share no geographical landscape but a meeting of sorts over 25 years ago began a acrimonious relationship that still holds true to this day.

In 1980, St John’s of Belfast met Killybegs in a tournament in Casement Park . On the field it was a quiet enough affair. Both sides were decent outfits at the time and it may have been a draw or perhaps Killybegs won by 10 points. I can’t remember. What I do recall was the commotion inside the clubrooms in the hours after the game. Tensions began to rise when it was obvious that the Donegal fans were not for going home any time soon. Some lad from Bundoran pulled out a whistle and began a rendition of The Hills of Donegal. Soon after, the rest of the Donegal crew were singing Mary From Dungloe … ‘And by my side a bottle of wine and on my knee a lass’…

As a neutral I was pleasantly surprised at the unexpected music to accompany my stout. That pleasure soon turned to discomfort as I witnessed the Antrim contingent stare threateningly at their visiting fans. It became obvious that the locals didn’t take kindly to being out-cultured in their own patch. It wasn’t long before a young woman from Toome struck up with Roddy McCorley, backed manically by the saffron supporters, swelling in numbers by the minute.

Within an hour, the sing-off was in full swing. Donegal Danny was met with the Green Glens whilst Dear Old Donegal faced The Oul Lammas Fair in Ballycastle. This might found like a nice night to experience but let me tell you the opposite was the truth. The ferocity of the singing was frightening. During the lyric, ‘Did you treat your Mary Ann/To some Dulse and Yellow Man’, one Donegal camper smashed a pint glass against the toilet door. At midnight mayhem reigned in the Casement clubrooms as both sets of fans were embroiled in a vicious fist-fight whilst still singing, ‘Strike for your country! O'Donnell abú!’ and ‘We'll call in Pat Hamill's and have a wee drop there/Just to help us along to sweet Carnlough Bay’ simultaneously. It was bedlam.

Unfortunately, both sets of fans were due to meet at Rossnowlagh in the Ulster Championship. An Antrim-Donegal encounter had never created as much interest by those who frequent club rooms as this one. True to form, after the game in which Antrim edged home by a point, the singing started. First up were the visitors who belted out a gentle ‘Dear Old Bushmills’ which was met majestically by ‘Baidin Fheilimi’. The bar was rammed with punters peering through the windows to get a glimpse of the stand-off. As is the norm when song and drink are mixed, things started to cut up rough when an elderly man from Portglenone sang ‘Carrickfergus’. Uproar ensued when some of the Donegal contingent claimed that this song had nothing to do with the Antrim town and they may as well sing ‘McAlpine's Fusiliers’ as well as sure it mentions a ‘glen’.

As with the Carnage in Casement, the Riot at Rossnowlagh became part of folklore for those who witnessed it. The Belfast Boy was merging with the Hills Of Glenswilly as men fought toe to toe, hammering out the lyrics as well as punches with great gusto. There was something to admire here. Whereas you had your Tyrone man simply striking a fellow from Portadown in the gob unexpectedly and car-shunting outside Moneymore, this was cultural begrudgery. Sometimes a tear runs down my wrinkled jaw when I hear Daniel O’Donnell warble out the Green Glens of Antrim. Little does he know he’s betraying the generations of O’Donnell vocalists gone before him.

In just over a week both sides meet in Ballybofey. I’ve already booked my seat in McGinley's Pub for before the match even finishes. I’m sure that simmering rivalry is still there beneath the surface. Beneath my coat will be a tin whistle just in case things are a little too tame. I have The Boys of Killybegs off to a tee just to get things moving in what I hope will be the third instalment – The Battle of Ballybofey.