Storm Éowyn hit Dublin 8 at around 3am last Friday. The force of the wind woke me up twice – I stayed awake just long enough to be impressed by the sound of the gale blowing outside my house before I went back to sleep. By the time I’d got out of bed that morning, the worst of it appeared to be over.
A quick scan of my roof told me that we’d got away unscathed, with no loss of power or electricity, and I contemplated a trip to the Phoenix Park a little later to stretch my legs. Texts to friends in Galway painted a rather different picture.
Power was out, phone coverage was patchy or non-existent, and water pressure was low or gone. It’s going to be a rough couple of hours for them, I thought, and went about my business.
I was planning on driving down to Galway-Armagh in Division 1 the following day, and saw no reason to amend my plans. As I turned my car for my parents’ house on Saturday morning, all seemed quiet and calm – but the moment I got off the motorway, the full extent of the damage started to dawn on me.
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For the last six or seven miles between Tuam and Milltown, there were trees down in garden after garden. A lovely old house about halfway out had an entire row of beautiful old trees with their roots upturned to the road. As ever, I had no idea in Dublin of the extent of the damage the west had taken.
I had barely set foot inside the house, warm at least but without power or water, when my mother asked me to go back into Tuam to try to find a battery-powered radio to allow her to listen to the game later that evening. When I arrived, the town was full of cars parked strangely, drivers dawdling in traffic jams into petrol stations that didn’t appear to be moving, nor have any desire to move.
People were just coming into town to try to find some phone coverage or a cup of tea, or indeed just some human interaction after 24 hours or more of staring at each other, or at the wall. No wonder everyone was driving like a zombie. The entire town was sold out of battery-powered radios, so I grabbed two takeaway cups of tea and returned home.
At least Tuam had power. I drove to Athenry to get a lift into town with friends and discovered the town was completely out. I saw a line of cars parked on an overpass on the town ring-road. I couldn’t figure out what was going on for a moment until I realised – it must have been one of the few places in the town with phone coverage. People were walking around on the side of a bypass checking their messages or updating their families.
Earlier this month Galway City was ranked ninth in the 10 highest traffic delay times by city in Europe, but it was gunning for at least a top three finish last Saturday. It was for the same reason – people just wanted to get the hell out of their houses. And even sitting in a carpocalypse on the Lough Atalia Road was better than staying at home.
By the time the game came around in Salthill, it had been delayed for 15 minutes and the atmosphere in the crowd, which should have been nicely edgy given the All-Ireland final defeat to the same opposition six months ago, was one of tired forbearance. We’re here, at least – let’s hope the football gives us something.
The new floodlights were duly switched on, although I surely wasn’t alone in praying that rather than a glitzy showcasing of light and shadow during the teams’ warm-ups, they would just turn them on, leave them on and make sure we get to the end of the game without a power-surge of some kind. It happened at the Super Bowl a few years ago, for Christ’s sake – it can certainly happen in Salthill in the aftermath of a hurricane.
As we pondered the new rules this week, these were the main thoughts running through my mind. Honestly, it was a miracle we got as many games played as we did. The wind wreaked havoc in plenty of games, the pitches were heavy and hardly conducive to moving the ball fast – and yet still the rules had an overwhelmingly positive impact. The game looked different, but not unrecognisably so. When the games were good, they were very, very good – particularly in Roscommon and in Croke Park.
It’s fun to try to figure out what works and what doesn’t after one round of league games, but it comes with so many caveats. What is really important now is supporting the sports clubs that have suffered damage.
The the destruction of Connacht GAA’s Air Dome in Bekan is a travesty for thousands of kids around the entire province who have been given the opportunity to play and to train there. It was quietly devastating to see the pictures of its destruction on Friday afternoon. John Prenty has vowed it will be rebuilt, and I see no reason why it won’t be.
There’s still no power in vast swathes of the west and northwest. When the lights eventually do come on, people there might be grateful for another weekend of intercounty football.
