*Originally published July 27th 2025 https://substack.com/home/post/p-169184151
I have a confession to make.
I was born and raised in Kerry. This, I suppose, makes me one of the lucky few who get to by birth, support Kerry. I did not choose them; it is simply put upon me, and in my 21 years of life, they have won six All-Irelands and hopefully by the end of today, they can make that seven. Even though I had the opportunity growing up to watch some of the best footballers of their generations play on my doorstep, it was not until I was 19 that I watched Kerry play in person.
I played football for 12 years, had been to a few county finals, and would watch football on TV, but the whole going to a match part just never really happened. It’s almost a case of those who live in Paris don’t need to go to the Louvre because it will always be there. Not to sound too pretentious, but I think Kerry people do like to think of Kerry teams like art. We can critique it because we understand it; everyone else can come and pay the admission fee and have a look, but we understand what it means because it is ours.
At that stage, though, I still felt like an outsider. I could watch on TV and I could hear the stories of Pat Spillane, Páidí Ó Sé and Maurice Fitz, but I had yet to experience what it all meant and truly understand what all the hype was about.
So I decided to change that.
The First Foray
It was the 2023 All-Ireland group stage Kerry against Mayo. My lasting memory from that day was a sea of green and gold hats on the far terrace. It must have been the first time the vendors outside were selling Kerry bucket hats because everyone seemed to buy one on that day.
Kerry lost 0-17 to 1-19, and stil,l as I left Fitzgerald’s stadium that afternoon, while not happy, I was content, as I now finally got to see the famous green and gold in person. Even though I was definitely not a child l think back and imagine all the children for whom this was also their first match. They now had, like myself, been gripped by the bug, not just of watching football but of watching Kerry.
As that season went on, I managed to make my first trek to Croke Park for the semi-final against Derry. I honestly do not remember much from the match simply because the last 15 minutes have all but formed the basis of my Kerry fandom. An amazing fight back in a game they had been second best in for the most part. I was pumping my fists, screaming at the top of my lungs, “UP THE KINGDOM!!!” That was one of many I have let out over the next 3 years.
Modern Times
This year has been a strange but fulfilling time for me to be a fan. For the entire league and championship group stage, I was living outside the country doing my Erasmus in Belgium.
This did give me the opportunity to do something I hadn’t done in around 5 years, and that was actually play the sport I kept watching and loving week in week out. I remember rocking up to the first session with €30 boots I had bought that morning, only knowing a few lads who I was in college with. Having not properly hopped or soloed a ball in half a decade, I began to think, “What have I got myself into?” But the minute I received that first handpass into my chest, took 4 steps and dropped the ball from my right hand onto my right foot, I knew that whatever small percentage of skill was there before had managed to stick around even just to do the most basic task as a solo without embarrassing myself. That was all I needed. Any session after that was not going to matter as much as the first 3 minutes of the first one.
When we went in and did our first training match, I went and shook my marker’s hand and asked him where he was from. He said, “Kerry.” Small world, I suppose.
Belgium really is a lovely place, but a noticeable difference appears when it comes to TVs in pubs. All over the city there are hundreds of pubs with so many different options to choose from and their own certain vibe. There is really something for everyone, but the only ones who have thought to put a television in the pub are the Irish.
This becomes a blessing and a curse for any Irish person living there. On one hand, you know that if you go in there is a good chance they will be showing football or hurling if it is on. Causing a lot of bewilderment amongst the Belgians. Wondering what is going on in the games where men are running with a ball on the end of a stick or kicking a ball back up to themselves and inevitably asking you what is going on as they see you are one of the only people paying attention to it.
Another oddity, although it seems that we may actually be the odd ones out, is that in Belgium their college years finish at the end of June. I still had about 2 weeks left to stay in my apartment in Belgium. I decided to come home on Friday the 27th; money was starting to get low, and it was a friend’s birthday that day anyway, so it all sort of worked out.
These flights were booked probably a month and a half before the date I was due to fly. A few times I thought I probably could stay another few days if I really wanted to. My tune completely changed when I realised that 2 days after I was due home, Kerry was to play Armagh in the quarter-final.
As hugs and memories were exchanged with some of the friends I had made over in Belgium, they really could not understand why one of the reasons I couldn’t extend my stay was because of this amateur sport, only played in Ireland. I simply told them, ‘It’s Kerry. I have to go to it’.
I even questioned it myself. But as I’m sure everyone feels the minute they see Croke Park over the houses in the distance and find their seats or their spot on the hill and as the players parade behind the Artane Band, it all sinks in as to why you are here and why you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.