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The 42
26-07-2025
- Sport
- The 42
An isolated, distinct land that carries the football tight to its heart: Failte go Tír Chonaill
THERE IS CHANCE, a good chance at that, that in around 20 years, perhaps when the management career of Michael Murphy is winding down, that the history of Donegal football could be told through the stories of three figures: Brian McEniff, Jim McGuinness and Michael Murphy. From the birth of McEniff, Donegal were only getting going. He lit the flame that the other two have carried. They have had almost no success of note without those three figures. Geography, politics, culture all play a role, but the county has always been fragmented. To achieve requires a lot to be straightened out. When it is, though, they can unite into an irresistible force . . . ***** Anyone looking to escape the build-up to Donegal being in an All-Ireland final, could have picked worse places to take a quick staycation last week than the Isle of Doagh, on Donegal's Inishown Peninsula. By our own counting, we tallied up more flags for the hurlers of Cork and Tipperary than in support of Donegal on the road from Ballyliffin to Carndonough. In a county that is a place all of itself, there are fragments even within that system that have their own peculiarities. The Inishown peninsula favours soccer. The view of Five Finger Strand. Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo In a Moville household during the week, I heard the children refer to soccer as 'football', and the native sport as 'Gaelic.' Naturally, they have requested six tickets for Sunday from their local club. The old tourism board slogan of 'Up here, it's different' contains multiple truths for Donegal. The very formation of the county system wasn't a natural geographic fit and three distinct Donegal cultures emerged. The east of the county unquestionably held more in common with the Protestant character of east Ulster. It was thriving and industrious, hiring many from the impoverished other parts of the county while Scottish settlers created a society with its own schools, newspapers, churches, marriage patterns and class structures. That left the south of the county and the extremely isolated north west. Utterly underdeveloped industrially, with areas such as The Rosses still lacking in proper road structures even up to a century ago. And in between the three regions was barren wasteland, high up and low down. Shouldered by the mountains on one side and hemmed in by the waves on the other, the locals created their own enterprises and entertainment. By the middle of the 1800s, north Donegal and particularly around the Inishowen Peninsula, with Urris as the epicentre, was a Poitín making industry, creating thousands of gallons that was exported to Belfast, Dublin and even Scotland. The lack of a permanent police presence in Inishown helped, but the locals were a shrewd bunch. They would station their distilleries in a sheugh between their land and a neighbours. In the event of discovery, they would successfully argue that it wasn't on their land, but on disputed territory. Incredibly, it worked. But the addictive nature of the alcohol was responsible for families being torn apart. Nobody wanted to incur the wrath of Judge Louis Joseph Walsh. In a previous life he was a contemporary of James Joyce and a playwright as well as a radical Republican who stood for election. But when he was appointed as the very first district court judge by Dáil, he took a dim view of Poitín and his policy was to jail the mother of the family caught transgressing. And any house would fall apart without the presence of the Irish mammy. Previously, in 1814 they brought in a system of townland fining. If the argument over disputed territory was used, a fine would be placed upon the entire townland. When the bills were inevitably unpaid, the army would move in and round up and impound the livestock of the area. This would cause huge poverty, cut off their means of paying tribute to landlords, and result in eventual eviction. All in, the existence of many was bleak. Diversion and sport was practically impossible. The Famine became a decades-long event in Donegal. The further failure of the potato crop in the late 1870s left those along the southern end of the county around Kilcar, Glencolumbkille and Killybegs barely able to make ends meet. Jonathan Bardon's 'A history of Ulster' held that, 'Living conditions in Gweedore were poor, with small homes built from turf; most had only a hole in the roof as a chimney and a low entrance acting as a doorway. Many had no windows and little space for habitation . . . Gweedore has a sad notoriety. Poverty and privation have been the portion of its peasantry.' During the Great Famine, occurrences of excess deaths in Donegal were significantly lower than other regions. Between 1846 and 1851 it was 10.7 per thousand, whereas a county such as Cavan, for example, had a 42.7 rate. A deserted famine house in Bloody Foreland, Gaoth Dobhair. Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo What saved the worst excesses of suffering in the county was the established pattern of seasonal migration and emigration. With one of the lowest rates of literacy among the lower classes, parents were less inclined to encourage children into education, but to prepare them for the hiring fairs in Strabane and Letterkenny held twice a year, that could take their children away to labour for periods of six-months solid. Quite often, the venue was Scotland for the potato harvest, or 'Tattie hoking' as it was known. Ordnance Survey reports are typically unsympathetic to the plight of the natives – see Brian Friel's masterpiece, 'Translations' and the Captain Lancey character for further evidence. But in a statistical report taken by a real-life Lieutenant W. Lancey in May 1834 he cruelly noted about the public's lack of recreation around Downings, 'They are, like the rest of the country, not addicted to public sports. They appear either to have lost or never possessed a taste for feats of activity or manly strength, and all their leisure time is taken up in moping over misfortunes, real or supposed.' Advertisement Historically, there are many examples of two different types of hurling in Donegal. The earliest reference can be found a few miles outside Carndonough in the ruins of a 17th century planter's church ruin at Clonca, where a craved slab features a sword and a stick alongside a ball. By the 1800s Camán, also widely known as 'commons', was played on a restricted field with the ball – a wooden object known as a 'nagg' propelled along the ground. The other type was a cross-country affair, focussing more on ball-carrying and played across entire townlands. Beaches were suitable venues for games that were recorded in Gortahork and Magheraroarty. In the south of the county, once the final harvest of the year was cut in August, it would produce a frenzy of activity on the level fields. After the establishment of the GAA in 1884, Donegal started slow. Several clubs were formed in the east of the county, Letterkenny the furthest inland. With no county board to organise and sanction games, they depended on the Derry county board for sporadic games. Donegal clubs also were somewhat commitment-phobic, with an example of the Green Volunteers not fielding against The Joys, but later playing a soccer match against Derry club, Ivy. The historic connection to Scotland, along with the origins of Glasgow Celtic, goes a long way to explain the deep roots that soccer has in the county. When it came to Gaelic Games, the seeds fell on fallow ground for decades. That's not to say that sport had no presence in the county. The Protestant influence in east Donegal brought activity in hockey, cricket and rugby. Regattas would be contested by teams of fishermen on the Foyle and Lough Swilly. After the Irish Republican Brotherhood seized control of the GAA at a convention in Thurles Courthouse in 1887, the clergy in Derry began encouraging the working classes to play association football instead. The locals obeyed. The early hankering for hurling helped Donegal who, it might surprise to hear, have three Ulster senior hurling championship titles from 1906, 1923 and 1932. They reached the second final in 1904 to be beaten by Antrim. The same outcome occurred in 1905 though it is left unclear if that game was actually played, the title nonetheless going to Antrim. The 1906 championship reached its finale on 14 July, 1907, when Donegal beat Antrim on a recorded scoreline of 5-21 to 0-1 in Burt, a place that has deep hurling roots. Essentially though, Donegal took their own sweet time. The Prairie Fire that torched across the country in the spread of Gaelic Games was snuffed out on the bogs of Donegal. There were many factors. The lack of rail transport. The lack of anything approaching modern roads. The distances involved in organising GAA activities at board level, when the majority of meetings were held in Limerick Junction in Tipperary. It wasn't a particularly nationalist county, either. The level of Donegal involvement in the 1916 Easter Rising was minimal, if any. The Irish Republican Brotherhood tried to organise in the county and Ernest Blythe spent some time trying to rise numbers for the Irish Volunteers, but could only recruit 20 men. When the GAA's Central Council called for mass participation in Gaelic Games on 4 August 1918 in what would become known as 'Gaelic Sunday', almost 100,000 taking part in an act of civil disobedience with the RIC seeking permits for games, there was no record of activity in Donegal. Almost a year later, Ulster GAA held its convention in Derry on 16 March. Secretary Eoin O'Duffy was a huge figure in the War of Independence who led several lives. He would later become the first Garda Commissioner before raising an army to go and fight in the Spanish Civil War on the fascist side of General Franco. But Donegal have him to thank for their GAA culture as he personally formed a new county board, their first meeting being held in Strabane, Co Tyrone on 3 April 1919. This time, it stuck. The board would meet regularly. Six different regions were set up in a smart move to keep travel to a minimum. Clubs sprung up everywhere. In 1921, both Ardara and Glenties were formed in a spirit of nationalist fervour. That decade was one of consumerist growth. It all helped. In 1923 there were 9,246 motorcars registered in the county. By 1930, that figure had grown to 32,632. The county footballers first made an appearance in the Ulster championship of 1905/06 where they were beaten 0-20 to 0-1 by Derry. A year later and the score was 0-18 to 0-2. They checked out then until 1919 and became a fixture from then on. The country changed. Donegal may have been lagging behind but they were still moving forward. A dance in Donegal town in September 1921 was reported on as, 'Irish dances were in the ascendant. No jazzing or one stepping. Any attempt to introduce these ugly, disgusting things would have been immediately frustrated and criticised'. A year later, the people of Gaoth Dobhair went for it with full jazzing and one-stepping to beat the band and were rounded on by the local press. The establishment of the Department of the Gaeltacht went about revitalising those communities on the western seaboard, just as tourism was taking off and Bundoran was becoming an Irish Blackpool. Donegal was arriving. ***** Almost everything they achieved in Gaelic football had the imprint of two men: Brian McEniff and Jim McGuinness. For their first Ulster title in 1972, McEniff was a player who won an All-Star. He was also the team manager, at the age of 30. Two year later he repeated the trick and while the reigning Ulster winning manager, was ousted by a county board that were familiar with the whetstone. In all, he managed Donegal five times. He won five Ulster titles and an All-Ireland in 1992, when he carried a teenage McGuinness on the panel, nicknamed 'Cher' by the squad on account of his long curly black hair. Brian McEniff with the Sam Maguire, 1992. Billy Stickland / INPHO Billy Stickland / INPHO / INPHO McEniff's final stint as manager brought them to an All-Ireland semi-final loss to Armagh. But it was also achieved while he was the serving county board chairman. McGuinness has now also accumulated five Ulster titles: 2011, 2012, 2014, 2024 and this year to go along with the All-Ireland in 2012, while Declan Bonner managed Donegal to Ulster success in 2018 and 2019. Throughout the decades in the method of playing football, Donegal had a certain way of doing things. They were early adopters of the fist-pass and carried the ball tight to their chests. Even today, that's the Donegal house style. Work the ball through the hands. Your feet are for shooting. They don't apologise for that. In the past, McGuinness has linked the 2012 All-Ireland with the 1992 All-Ireland in terms of style. 'That identity, what goes on in club football with the wind coming in off the Atlantic, it happens every day of the week,' he said in an interview over the past year. 'That style got us over the line in '92 and it happened in '12 again.' The Donegal bench, with a teenage Jim McGuinness standing, await the final whistle of the 1992 All-Ireland final. Billy Stickland / INPHO Billy Stickland / INPHO / INPHO Now, you can point out that it all sounds a little fanciful given that other western seaboard counties such as Galway and Kerry have known a gust of wind in their time and haven't been afraid to give the ball an odd kick. But that was bred into him. Even when McGuinness was a teenage sub on the first Donegal team to win the All-Ireland in 1992, their full-back Matt Gallagher went the entire game in the final against Dublin without kicking the football once, instead laying it off with a handpass every time. Doing it their own way is the county character. Take the music for example. The Donegal style of Irish traditional music is very connected to the Scottish Highlands. Almost exclusively played by fiddle. The cradle of this music originates from the areas around Gaoth Dobhair, while Johnny Doherty of Ardara was the most famous and renowned exponent of popularising it. It is played with single bowing, making it choppy, staccato and raw. Not to say that it is unsophisticated, but there are those that can look down their noses at it. Put it this way: Donegal traditional music is the most distinct from the others. For reasons, primarily geographic and cultural isolation, it has absorbed precious few other influences. It won't surprise you to learn that their Sean-nós singing is fairly unique also. Again, they do things their own way. And there's a particular strength that comes with that. When Jim McGuinness made his complaints around having to play Mayo in Dr Hyde Park this year, he'd have known this was no huge injustice. Especially with Kerry having to play Meath in Tullamore the day before. Instead, he was channelling his former manager, Brian McEniff. During the 2003 championship, McEniff made an enormous noise about having to play an All-Ireland quarter-final replay against Galway, in Castlebar. 'A pilgrimage to Castlebar,' he called it when the venue was announced. Given that the opposition was Galway, some of the Donegal players sniggered at their quirky manager. But McGuinness – who appeared as an injury-time sub for Christy Toye that day – would have noted the support that Donegal garnered through McEniff's proclamation. 'It would only happen because it's us,' said McGuinness of having to go to Roscommon. If 2012 owed something to 1992, then the lessons taught by McEniff go deep. ***** In a way, it's absolutely amazing. At The Famine Village in Doagh, the proprietor Patrick Doherty talked of living in his family home with the thatched roof and the low entry. Related Reads 'One of my early years, I had the match played in my head a thousand times beforehand' David Clifford 'could be the best player that has ever played the game' - McGuinness 'It's challenging but it's adding to the entertainment' - Goalkeeper view on new rules There were a few 'back in the day' yarns, one which centred around how mothers treated teething weans to the long stems of seaweed, coiled up. The child would bite on the tough stem and the taste of sea salt would please them enough to stop the crying. Doagh Famine Village. Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo What changed everything, he said, was the entry into the European Economic Community in 1973, and the acceleration of events in 1984. The Man From The Council would then come round to your thatched house and order it to be tumbled and replaced with a fresh house. The clothing company, Fruit of the Loom, came to Buncrana in 1987 and employed thousands. Ireland was modernising. Donegal's modernisation was gaining pace, building on the existing and improving tourism industry. Think about it. For a couple hundred years, they were few areas in Europe quite as remote as Donegal. People ate the seaweed and cockles off the beaches and what they could catch on a rod. Now, the world comes to them. To taste their now legally-distilled Poitín. To chew on the local seaweed and marvel at the few thatch cottages left. They sit in recreations of Irish wakes and lap up the folklore before grabbing coffee and traybakes, making plans to hear a little of that old time music later on in the evening. Americans, English, Europeans, Irish, they all come in their droves to rent out houses and take trips on the coach tours, marvelling at some of the most unspoiled views of western Europe; or at least those that have not entirely succumbed to Bungalow Blight. They have it made. In other ways, they don't. There are fishing vessels moored in the deepwater port of Killybegs that are valued around €25 million. In the past, they would have fished the waters nine months of the year with people employed the length of Bundoran to Falcarragh within the industry. Now, the boats can leave the harbour in late October but they have to be finished by the start of March. Other crews from Spain, The Netherlands and Portugal can dock in Killybegs and travel 15 miles outside the bay to fish their bigger quotas. That's got to rub a few noses in it. Even something as emphatically Donegal as a day on the bog is gone. People still 'win' the turf, but it's a clandestine affair and selling turf for burning has been banned since 2022. Given the misery of the mid-1800s outlined earlier, you'd be forgiven for believing that Donegal had never achieved prominence. Within the Donegal GAA crest is a right hand gripping a red cross, the coat of arms of the O'Donnell Clan. They ruled Tír Chonaill for centuries as old royalty of the Gaelic nobility system. Frequently warring with other clans, most notably the O'Neill's, their most famous member was Red Hugh O'Donnell who was instrumental in many battles during the Nine Years War. Eventually though, after red Hugh's death in 1602, Rory O'Donnell engineered the Flight of the Earls on 14 September 1607, taking the prominent members and supporters of the families in a ship holding a reported number of 99. An art installation commemorates the Flight of the Earls, Ramelton. Alamy Stock Photo Alamy Stock Photo Leaving for Spain in a French boat hired in Nantes six months previously, determined to seek Catholic support, particularly from Spain to challenge English rule in Ireland. It never happened for them. As they left Ireland behind them, nervously looking at the shores of Lough Swilly, paranoid that the English were aware of their plan, they left behind a leadership void. One that was filled by the Plantation of Ulster by English and Scottish settlers. The descendants of the O'Donnells and O'Neills would go on to die young on foreign battlefields or rise to nobility and loyalty in Europe. Prior to their departure, they had elevated Donegal to international renown. The contrast in centuries was hammered home in one letter to The Irish Times some years ago, when a daughter recalled telling her father that his native parish in Donegal was hanging on a wall in the Doges Palace, Venice, in the 17th Century. He replied: 'Imagine, the Venetians knew about us in the 1700s and Dublin only discovered us in the 1960s!' They know all about them now. ***** Check out the latest episode of The42′s GAA Weekly podcast here
Irish Times
26-07-2025
- Sport
- Irish Times
Brian McEniff: ‘I have a huge grá for the county. I love Donegal, that's just it'
Brian McEniff's brief directions end with what feels like his most salient wedge of detail: 'You'll see four Donegal flags in the garden.' He's already standing there among them when you arrive, looking as proud as any man could possibly look on a lawn full of fluttering green and gold polyester. He's 82 years young now. Or 82 and a half, as he points out. Sprightly, engaging and still sharp as a tack. As Donegal prepare for only a fourth ever All-Ireland final appearance, the man who led the county to its first is in his element. The house is alive with people, mostly grandchildren and great-grandchildren dispersed across a multitude of couches and tables, some quietly reading and others busily colouring. READ MORE None of them bat an eyelid at yet another randomer walking through the hallway talking football with the man of the house. Unicorns won't colour themselves, after all. And it's that kind of house. A home. 'There are always people here,' says McEniff with an air of understandable fulfilment. But before we sit down, he picks up a photo of his younger self alongside his four siblings. Mary, his only sister, passed away in May. He instinctively rubs his index finger gently across her face. McEniff himself suffered a heart attack at the end of 2021, a period he reflects upon as a 'scary time' but almost four years on, he is grateful to be feeling hale and hearty again. 'Fortunate, thankful,' he says. [ Donegal v Kerry: Breakdown of the 2025 All-Ireland football final by numbers Opens in new window ] He has been living in this house since the mid-1960s, tucked just in off Bundoran's main street behind the Holyrood Hotel, which his parents bought as a B&B in 1949 and so started the McEniff hotel empire. Brian junior, or Briany as his dad affectionately calls him, brings a tray of pastries and a pot of steaming tea. Brian pours. An audience with the godfather of Donegal football has begun. 'Ah, I wouldn't take much notice of that,' he smiles at the godfather sobriquet. And yet in this very room well over a decade ago now Jim McGuinness laid out his vision to McEniff for the future of Donegal football. Both men would scoff at the imagery of the heir apparent seeking validation from the kingmaker, but there's more than a scrap of truth in there. Brian McEniff and Jim McGuinness at the 2012 All-Ireland final, when Donegal defeated Mayo. Photograph: James Crombie/Inpho 'Jim's plans were super, he was ahead of his time,' recalls McEniff. But others weren't convinced. McGuinness applied for the senior job twice and was overlooked on both occasions. But when McEniff was asked in 2009 to head up a committee to appoint a Donegal under-21 manager, he realigned destiny. [ Dean Rock: Donegal's devastating counterattack combined with Kerry's reliance on Clifford to settle it Opens in new window ] 'Jim got them to the All-Ireland under-21 final in 2010 but then later that year he actually wasn't going to go for the senior job when it became vacant. He was probably p**sed off at not having got it previously but I told him he had to go for it. Thankfully he did and the rest is history.' If McEniff is the godfather, then McGuinness is the messiah. But when Donegal advanced to their first ever Ulster SFC final appearance in 1963, McEniff was living and working in Canada. He spent four years there but missing out on that provincial final left a mark on his soul. 'There was a deep sadness that you weren't at home to be involved. That feeling stayed with me.' When his dad suffered a stroke in 1965, McEniff returned to help with the family business. He managed the Donegal minors in 1969 and 1970 but was then relieved of his duties. Sacked. By the end of 1971 the Donegal seniors were drifting. Leitrim had beaten them 3-11 to 2-5 in the last league game of the year that December. Morale was low. With nobody at the tiller, McEniff assumed the role of player-manager. 'Thirteen of the team that lost to Leitrim won the Ulster Championship the following year. It's amazing what can be done.' It was Donegal's inaugural Ulster triumph. McEniff would bring five provincial titles back to the hills but 1992 proved to be the landmark year. 'The buzz around the county was unreal ahead of that final,' he says. Donegal homecoming: McEniff with the Sam Maguire in 1992. Photograph: Billy Stickland/Inpho 'But within the camp we kept a lid on it, some of our boys had won an under-21 All-Ireland in 1982, so they'd been on the go a while. Still, we entered the final against Dublin very much as underdogs.' But they emerged as heroes. The outpouring of pride and joy in the aftermath was something the county had never experienced before. Still, over the years McEniff has always been conscious within the euphoria there was also some heartache. In particular, the fate of 25-year-old Seamus Braid who died following an assault on O'Connell Street just hours after the game. With only a couple of minutes remaining at Croke Park that afternoon, Donegal selector Michael Lafferty, in a fluster, grabbed McEniff and told him a young fan was standing in the dugout alongside the subs. 'Brian, what are we going to do with this man?' McEniff, absorbed totally in what was unfolding in front of him, waved away the drama: 'Just leave him there.' Video footage of those final seconds shows the supporter, wearing a maroon checked shirt and sporting a green and yellow headband, standing among the Donegal subs. At the final whistle he throws his arms around McEniff. It was Seamus Braid from Downings. 'Somebody had hopped the fence and got in our dugout. When the game was over that same boy had a hand on my shoulder as I went across the pitch. 'I later found out he was the young lad who was killed that night. That was very sad, very hard on his family, so when I think about the final whistle I think about that boy.' On the side-line at Croke Park during the 1992 All-Ireland final. Photograph: Billy Stickland/Inpho When Sam Maguire arrived to Donegal for the first time on the Monday evening, McEniff alighted from the team bus and carried it across the Donegal-Leitrim border outside Bundoran. When they got to his hometown soon after, his mam was among the throng waiting to welcome the team home. A lifetime's ambition had been realised. McEniff stepped away at the end of 1994 but he returned to manage Donegal for one more year in 2003 because, again, nobody else wanted the gig. Perceived as a hopeless rabble, McEniff guided that team to an All-Ireland semi-final. The next time Donegal would reach the last four was to be under McGuinness. Full circle. McGuinness first caught McEniff's eye in the 1990 Donegal intermediate final, after which the Donegal manager asked him in for a trial. Subsequently, McGuinness was invited to join the county squad but the Glenties man had plans to hit America. 'I said to him, 'Jim, I'm putting you on the Donegal panel, you can't be going to America.' He stayed,' remembers McEniff. McEniff in 2005: 'The game we play is hard to live with.' Photograph: Andrew Paton/Inpho Since offering guidance to McGuinness during those formative years, the pair's relationship has remained strong. When the Donegal 1992 side were the Jubilee Team before the 2017 All-Ireland final, McGuinness was unable to attend as he was coaching in China so his son Mark Anthony stood in and took to the field holding McEniff's hand. 'I've known Jim since he was a kid, so I was very proud to walk out with Jim's son alongside me that day.' As for this Sunday, McEniff believes Donegal will win. 'The game we play is hard to live with. Jim is probably the most highly skilled GAA team manager ever – O'Dwyer and Heffernan were great managers in their time but Jim has raised the bar way up.' [ Patrick McBrearty is the golden thread running through the Jim McGuinness era Opens in new window ] Before McEniff had even left Croke Park after the semi-final win over Meath two weeks ago, his phone started buzzing. 'Manus Boyle was first to call. I knew why he was on before I answered, 'Well Brian, what about tickets for the final?' 'I'd hardly hung up when Tony Boyle called. 'Tony, Manus has been on already.' We have a great friendship, there's a great bond with that 1992 team. You can never break that.' There can only ever be one first time. Celebrating victory over Dublin in the 1992 final. Photograph: James Meehan/Inpho Irrespective of the result this Sunday, McEniff will be standing outside Supervalu in Bundoran next Saturday selling lotto tickets for Realt na Mara. As he does every weekend. 'Saturday afternoon, one o'clock. I enjoy it, I meet people, locals and visitors. And I sell like hell. A lot of times I'd have to end up moving people on, 'Look, I've lotto tickets to sell here, go on,' he laughs. All-Ireland winning manager, All-Star footballer, Ireland international Rules manager, Ulster Railway Cup boss, hotelier, club lotto salesman, a man of many hats. Just over his shoulder in the livingroom is a walnut veneered piano – he's also talented pianist. Above it on the wall is a photo of his 10 children. He takes the frame down off the wall and like any proud dad he goes through the achievements and whereabouts of all 10. He has 21 grandchildren too, but sadly his grandson Jarlath Ruane died in February 2024. Sport is sport, but it doesn't cocoon you from tragedy. He might be known to many as a football man, but a moment in his company is all you need to realise above all else Brian McEniff is a family man. 'That was a very difficult time for us all,' he says. As he speaks, his wife, Cautie – a Cork woman he met while studying hotel management in Cathal Brugha Street – enters the room. 'My mother was a very special lady, she made life possible for me to play football at the level I played. Herself and that good woman there,' he says, pointing to Cautie. Pride of all: 'I always think it goes back to those years I missed when I was away. I have a huge grá for Donegal.' Photograph: Bryan O'Brien 'Two wonderful people who allowed me to pursue so many things in life.' As we walk out the front door he swings opens both arms to jokingly acclaim the four Donegal flags blowing in the light sea breeze. He was in Donegal town a few weeks back when he noticed a bric-a-brac shop on the Diamond. He told Cautie to hold on a second and popped inside. Moments later, much to her amusement, he emerged clutching a bundle of Donegal flags. 'I always think it goes back to those years I missed when I was away. I have a huge grá for the county. I love Donegal, that's just it.' As for all the talk of David Clifford, McEniff feels Michael Murphy could be the difference maker on Sunday. 'Michael is god up here,' he says. 'They call Peter Canavan god, but Murphy is our god.' McEniff, McGuinness, Murphy. Donegal's holy trinity. Still, for a man of religion, McEniff says he hasn't prayed for Donegal to win the All-Ireland. 'No, I pray for Jim. He's a great man.' It takes one to know one.
