In our latest Hospital Pass, we bid farewell to Clare’s birdman of a boss, and marvel at the boundless optimism of a man with almost 40 years of management behind him.
Every year in England, there’s a managerial merry-go-round. Managers step down or are sacked, heading down the road to take up another job, quickly pledging their allegiance, setting their sights on survival/promotion/Europe within five years and conveniently forgetting all about their own recent, forgettable, past.
This side of the water, though, it’s less merry-go-round and more walk-the-plank. Joe Dooley packed his bags last week and was last seen headed westbound out of Tullamore on horseback, muttering “I’m off to the country”. Colm Bonnar went overboard in Wexford at the weekend and Sparrow “The Ger” O’Loughlin has now followed those two to the gallows.
The four-day delay between last Saturday’s humiliation in Salthill and Sparrow’s resignation means one of two things: (a) he agonised for days about his decision, or (b) he saw which way the wind was blowing and dived off the end of the plank before the stout guys in the bright yellow “Maor” bibs came along to push him in.
Daft Dwyer
From one managerial career that has come to an end, to another that looks like it never will.
It might be coming up to 25 years since Kerry’s last All-Ireland title under Micko, but he’s not done yet, not by a long shot.
Micko’s sights have been gradually lowered over the years, from eight All-Irelands with Kerry, to Leinster titles with Kildare and Laois, to winning championship matches with Wicklow.
Still, his optimism is not to be sniffed at, and despite the fact that his Division 4 team travel to the home of a Division 1 team (Armagh) this weekend, he’s not allowing any inferiority complex to set in.
“This Wicklow team are certainly as good as any team left in this group at the present time,” he says. “We will be going in as complete underdogs against Armagh in Armagh. There’s no doubt about that [but] we have an equal chance. We are as good as Armagh and it will be touch and go.”
We’d like to give the people and footballers of Wicklow a bit of credit, and say they can’t be foolish enough to believe this sort of claptrap from a 75-year-old snake-oil-salesman from Waterville.
But Micko, the mad thing, might just believe it.
