Herald Opinion: Proud of the parish and proud of the place we call home

This weekend, I had nothing written for this column. Not a word. Saturday night rolled around, I was off to Croke Park on Sunday and, with a blank mind and a deadline looming, panic set in. Like a fool, I turned to a friend for advice.

“Write about Éire Óg and the GAA,” he said, looking at me across the table, pint in hand.

Easier said than done. But he reassured me, told me it’s something I know plenty about. And maybe he’s right. But what I really know, what I really felt then, was place.

I’m proud of mine. The place I call home.

Loughglynn has always been a small village with a big house, the kind that casts both a shadow and a legacy. Once the domain of the local landlord, a man named Dillon, it later became a convent. Now, it stands empty. Silent for 25 years, yet still very much at the heart of who we are.

There’s a truth about rural places like this, they shape you. I’ve been shaped by the fields, the narrow roads, and—more than anything—the people. Loughglynn isn’t just a dot on the map. It’s part of a proud parish, bound tightly with Lisacul and Gorthaganny.

Together, we are Éire Óg. In sport, yes—but also in spirit.

And this weekend, that spirit was burning bright.

On Saturday, our U-15s joined with Michael Glavey’s, headed to the Connacht GAA Centre of Excellence for the regional Féile. It was a full-on day of football with eight teams in our regional group and threw-in at 11 a.m.

First came Calry St. Joseph’s, we beat them. Then a tough draw with a slick Granard outfit from Longford. But our lads dug in, showed real heart, and battled through.

Into the semi-final we went, facing Athenry and beat them too. Suddenly, there we were in the final, up against Garycastle of Athlone.

We came up just short. But we made the final. And sometimes, that says more than any medal ever could.

For players, mentors, parents, and supporters, it was a day to remember. A day to be proud, of the effort, the commitment, the resilience. These boys showed what Éire Óg is all about.

Back home, the senior lads had their own showdown, the final round of the O’Gara Cup, Division Two of the all-county league. The table was tight. Éire Óg and Elphin were level on points, with Creggs and St. Brigid’s just behind, Tulsk way out in front.

Win, and we were promoted. Lose, and we’d be leapfrogged. A draw? Creggs might sneak through. No pressure.

We named the strongest team we had. Thankfully, Conor Cox answered the call. He opened with a two-pointer and kept the scoreboard ticking. He was electric—“smoking,” as we’d say. A pity Davy Burke wasn’t there to see it. He might’ve taken note of what he missed out on this year. But that’s in the past.

Like Kevin McStay and Dessie Farrell, Davy isn’t calling the shots anymore.

What matters now isn’t what ex-managers think. It’s what we, on the sidelines, along the fences, and in the stands, know.

And what we saw Saturday was a team that gave everything. Cox for Éire Óg, Killoran for Elphin—both lads left it all on the pitch. They played not just for themselves, but for the jersey, the club, the place. And yes—thankfully—we got the job done.

Éire Óg 1-18, Elphin 1-13. It was a battle from start to finish—the kind of match that leaves you hoarse, drained, and absolutely delighted.

Now, for those who know me, you’ll know I teach in Elphin. It’s a place I love, full of good people. But when this savage from Loughglynn goes head-to-head with them on a Saturday evening—well, there’s no sweeter feeling than walking away with the win. And that’s what we did.

We won. They lost. And, sadly, I had no school on Monday to casually stroll in and ask, ever-so-innocently, “How did that match go at the weekend?” The gloating? Maybe not noble. But still—completely honest.

The result? A place in the league final and automatic promotion to Division One. A massive step forward for the club. And the celebrations? As you’d expect.

I bought the lads a pint. Because in Loughglynn, that’s how we mark the moment. Win or lose, it’s a pint. For celebration or for sorrow—it’s still a pint. But this time, it was raised high and full of joy.

In Elphin, I imagine they sipped theirs in silence.

The thing about the GAA is this: it reflects who we are. It’s not just sport. It’s community. It’s commitment. It’s pride in place. Whether you’re 12, 15, or 31—when you pull on that Éire Óg jersey, you do it with one thought in mind: be better than the rest.

And this weekend, we were. Better than some. As good as others. Nearly as good as one. But most of all—we were proud.

Proud of the lads. Proud of the club. Proud of the parish. And proud of the place we call home.

As the slogan says: “GAA - where we all belong”.