Kerry and Donegal. Two households, both alike in dignity. And in scenery. And, for sure, in roguery

From Tuosist and Teelin, they’ll come to Croke Park. From Gallarus and Gaoth Dobhair, from Ardfert and Ardara. Hog’s Head and Horn Head and all the many mad, wild heads in between. An All-Ireland final between Kerry and Donegal, the island’s two most far-flung outposts. People and places forgotten by Official Ireland, gathering in kinship to be at play.

Alright, alright. Easy on the uilleann pipes there, Carmel. For a slightly less misty-eyed take, let’s turn to the internet – and the Tripadvisor account of one @Abcvance out of Grimes, Ohio. The dateline is October 2019 and our Ohioan friend has a question.

@Abcvance: “Looking at coming to Ireland in Aug/Sept. Doing Dublin, Galway and then deciding between Donegal or Kerry for the other area. Which do you recommend & why?”

Oh boy. Here we go.

@bredamv: “My choice would always be Kerry, with its spectacular scenery, the highest range of mountains ... Wonderful beaches, beautiful lakes, islands to visit ... I know there are some who may disagree, but in my two visits to Donegal I have been underwhelmed by it.”

@Claudes: “Both Kerry and Donegal are beautiful (bredamv, where did you go in Donegal that you didn’t notice the spectacular beauty of this county?)”

@nakagoli: “Donegal is, imo, more beautifully rugged than Kerry. And it has the advantage of being a bit quieter as many visitors seem to think that Kerry is a MUST. It isn’t!”

@bredamv: “I certainly did not see more rugged beauty in Donegal, neither did my fellow travellers. I guess from looking at the McGillicuddy Reeks every day, I kind of expected similar beauty in Donegal but I now know that Kerry has a large number of the highest mountains in Ireland including the highest Carrantoohill [sic] at 1,038 metres, while Donegal’s highest, Mount Errigal at over 700 metres is way down the list.”

@Claudes: “Kerry having the highest mountains in Ireland surely has nothing to do with this issue and I don’t know why you keep mentioning this fact.”

Kerry and Donegal Fans on Hilll 16 during 2014 All-Ireland final. Photograph: Alan Betson/The Irish Times

Sadly, it’s there that we must leave our Tripadversaries to their squabble. History does not record whether @Abcvance ever made it to our green and gold shores but you’d imagine he or she trod mighty lightly once here. Maybe they decided not to journey on from Galway at all, for fear of causing offence.

Donegal and Kerry. Two households, both alike in dignity. And in scenery. And, for sure, in roguery.

Darragh Ó Sé tells a story of Eamonn McGee coming down for the Comórtas Peile na Gaeltachta one year in the early 2000s with €20 in his pocket, drinking for three days in between bouts of football and going back to Donegal with a fiver. Fair to say the future Donegal All-Ireland winner was neither unique nor unwelcome in his endeavours.

Ahead of the 2014 final, I was in Darragh’s company when his phone rang. “This is a Donegal fella now,” he said. “He’ll be looking for tickets.” He picked it up and got onto the front foot immediately: “John! How are you? Come here, before I forget, I’m short two tickets for Sunday, have you heard of any going?” “Ah shite Darragh, I was coming to you for the same. I’ll see what I can do ...”

Kerry and Donegal. Counties where the rhythms of life wouldn’t have much trouble jamming with each other. Almost exactly the same size, broadly similar in population. Scoured by emigration, down all the generations. Hereditarily certain of one thing above all – that the bastards in Dublin couldn’t care less and should never be depended on.

A horse and jaunting car at the Gap of Dunloe in Co Kerry. Photograph: PA Thompson/Getty Images

The sea, the islands, the fishing. The Gaelgóirí communities dotted through hills and coves. Hundreds of rally cars gunning away in Killarney and Letterkenny every summer. Thousands of spectators craning to get a whiff. Donegal golf, which is Kerry golf but cheaper (albeit not as much cheaper as it used to be). The tourist season, in which the rest of us get to go and live in one Narnia or other for a week. The end of the tourist season, with the dreaded promise of the long winter to come.

Yet when it comes to football, they couldn’t be more different. They each have their own DNA, proud and staunch. In Kerry, you move the ball by kicking it. In Donegal, you ferry it around through the hands. Neither county is as dogmatic as they’d like to let on about these truths but they hold them to be fairly self-evident all the same.

And so they come to Croke Park for the All-Ireland final, trailing their people behind them. For two such football-dotty counties, their paths have remained blissfully uncrossed for the vast majority of championship history. This is only the fourth time they’ve met – somehow, Kerry managed to play every other Ulster county before they first happened across Donegal. All three games so far have been in Croke Park and the score is tied – one win, one draw, one defeat all round.

They come together at a time when the sport itself is entirely up for grabs. Exactly whose DNA is best suited to these new rules? Instinct would have said Kerry, naturally. All you needed was to see a couple of those flowing moves, a few of those dinked balls to the linkman, all that space around David Clifford. It was as if the FRC went through months of meetings and reports and sandbox games to come up with ... Kerry football.

But the longer the summer has gone on the more the certainties of the past decade and a half have taken hold. The best teams still make possession ten-tenths of the law. There is more risk in the game now but a ball kicked away is still a cardinal sin. Every team’s starting principle is creating a defensive shape designed to turn the ball over and go on the attack. Which sounds a lot like ... Donegal football.

Fanad Head, the northernmost lighthouse in Ireland, in Co Donegal. Photograph: Bruno Morandi/Gerry Images

Whither or which, the sport is back in the affections of the floating public again. Whatever else the new rules did, they did that. At a Holy Communion party back in May, a couple of us snuck in out of the sun to catch the second half of Dublin v Galway in the round robin. We thought we were outlaws, making good our escape from the bouncy castle Alcatraz out the back. By the time Tom Lahiff kicked the winner for Dublin, the livingroom was sardined.

In truth, the knockout stages have been a bit of a washout. Down v Galway was a cracker, Meath v Galway was a stinker, albeit an entertaining one in the end. Kerry’s shock-and-awe routine against Armagh was the new game in excelsis, Donegal’s turnaround against Monaghan on six days’ rest was a ferocious statement of intent. Everything else has been a bit light on fireworks.

Maybe we should be careful what we wish for. Though the final isn’t a referendum on the new rules, the FRC looms over it all the same. The championship has been largely free of refereeing controversies but the stakes are never higher nor emotions on more of a hair-trigger than in an All-Ireland final. Nobody wants Sam Maguire to be decided by a three-up breach.

It seems relatively safe to assume that Donegal and Kerry will deliver though. They look to have timed their runs to the minute. They both would have picked the other out as the danger heading out onto the second circuit and now they’re jumping the last together. It comes down now to who gets up the hill.

Donegal and Kerry players parade before the 2014 All-Ireland final. Photograph: Morgan Treacy/Inpho

Writing in these pages before he went off to get a proper job, Keith Duggan presaged the 2014 final with a line about the relative histories of Kerry and Donegal. “It brings together a football tradition based upon absolute certainty and a football tradition based upon absolute hope,” he said. And he was right, as usual.

But it’s a different story now. Donegal don’t travel to Croke Park in hope these days. They are fuelled by absolute certainty. They bring it in busloads, from Downings and Moville and Killybegs and everywhere else. The same as Kerry have always brought it, from Lispole and Waterville and Kenmare and beyond. Tradition evolves, dances through itself, tumbles through the times.

Kerry and Donegal own the city this weekend. Are you watching, Ohio?

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