Dermot Earley

[Beantown]

Awful news.

Fantastic player and always came across as a true gent...  A true warrior.

Hope the injury heals and in time we will see him on the sidelines in a coaching or managing capacity.

Best wishes for the future

[Syferus]

Dermot could always take advantage of the parentage rule and have a career swansong out Wesht, there's nothing we need more than another midfielder

[spuds]

Dermot could always take advantage of the parentage rule and have a career swansong out Wesht, there's nothing we need more than another midfielder

Dear God the poor lad has suffered enough.

Hope the future is bright for young Dermot wherever it leads him. A real sound skin and a player who always gave his all on the pitch.

[rosnarun]

Dermot could always take advantage of the parentage rule and have a career swansong out Wesht, there's nothing we need more than another midfielder

`
weren't his parents from Mayo?
is that what you mean .
We're not too bad for midfielder  any good full forwards going?

[Donnellys Hollow]

http://www.independent.ie/sport/gaelic-football/earley-eyes-kildare-retirement-after-latest-injury-left-him-barely-able-to-walk-29276557.html

[Syferus]

I saw that in the paper yesterday. It'd be a sad end but he's had an incredible career all the same.

[Syferus]

I swear this man's talents know no bounds, even if a skinny latte is a fancy dan drink more suited to Galway types than a rugged leader of men:

Midfield View: Dermot Earley on Football
Wednesday, July 17, 2013

I loved this time of year. Those summer evenings on the training ground with the midges biting, and the blinding summer sun. Kicking ball after ball over the bar, not wanting the night to end, not wanting to tog in and go home. Eating, sleeping, living and dreaming of football. Those were the best of times.

It was the excitement of championship week, the buzz of expectation in the camp, the long chats over a skinny latte (for any dieticians out there) with the lads about the game, the opposition, your own game, the team's game. It was the bits of advice you would get in the street, the 30 second chats with the clubman about the team, agreeing with him or her that this guy should be playing and that this guy wasn't up to the level. It was not telling your family the starting team, only because you wanted to keep it in-house and it was the giving out you received when the real team was released.

It was getting your gear ready three days before the game, match shorts and socks that were whiter than white, the old pair of lucky socks you wore underneath that had turned grey from too many washes. It was first cleaning, then polishing, and finally shining your football boots (Puma King –old school). Both pairs, moulded and studs. It was taking out a new pair of gloves, and the ones you wore last week for the warm-up, then packing a third pair just in case you needed to change at half time.

It was checking seven times that you had your gum shield. It was that last minute check of the text from Briar to see what time and where we were meeting and to make sure you were wearing the right match day gear, even though you checked it the day before and the day before that. It was finally saying as you walked out the door, "socks, togs, boots, gloves, gum shield and towel" over and over again. Those were the best of times.

It was meeting at Hawkfield, St Conleth's, the Keadeen Hotel, Johnstown House or The Johnstown Inn. It was the pre-match meal, the nervous chat, the jokes, the texts of good luck on the phone. It was the last team meeting, the last minute changes, he was out and he was in. It was putting on the game face and looking around the room, making eye contact with the lads you would do anything for.

It was boarding the bus, sitting in the same seat, always left free because it was "your" seat. It was the Garda outriders that made sure we kept on the move. It was listening to your match day playlist on the iPhone, but still hearing the beep beep beep beeeeeeeeeeep of the Kildare cars passing, with the white flags flying out the back window. It was the opposition supporters giving you the thumbs down (and more) and the Kildare supporters clapping as you passed. It was sitting up in your seat when Semple Stadium, Celtic Park, Hyde Park, Markievicz Park, the Gaelic Grounds, O'Moore Park, Páirc Tailteann, O'Connor Park, Dr Cullen Park, Nowlan Park, St Conleth's Park and finally Croke Park came into view.

It was getting off the bus, and getting your seat in the dressing room. Same one as last time, you think? It was reading the match programme, checking your number, and looking at the opposition's team. It was getting strapped, rubbed, and stretched. It was warming up. It was the last minute one to ones, getting around to everyone, the' best of luck' and the 'be ready'. It was the claps on the back and the shake of the hands. It was the calling out of the team and subs. It was the putting on the jersey at the same time and tucking it in or out depending on how you felt. It was the huddle and the arms around the shoulder, the last few reminders and finally the manager's words.

It was the heart thumping, the hair standing on the back of your neck, the eyes welling, the deep breaths and the door opening. It was the darkness in the tunnel and the light at the end. It was the roar of the crowd as you emerged, it was the warm up, it was the last minute huddle, it was the parade, and it was standing to attention for the National Anthem. It was shaking the referee's hand, it was shaking your opponent's hand, it was nodding to your midfield partner. It was waiting for the ref to bend down for the ball, it was the roar of the crowd again, it was the shoulder, it was the ball in the air.....it was the silence...those were the best of times!

Why do we play the game? I take plenty of memories away with me, some more special than others. There is no better feeling than going out and standing shoulder to shoulder with your teammates and going into a battle. These are the guys that you see every day, talk the most to, and spend the most amount of time with. There is a collective dream that's more powerful than anything, that if achieved can give you the greatest sense of satisfaction that nothing (well almost) can equal.

Even in defeat there can be a bizarre pride among you, knowing that each and every one gave everything they had for the cause. That's the beauty of our games, a code unique to Ireland where success can stop a county in its tracks. Where a group of men and women from over the road or across the street, from within the community, can transform a village, a parish, a town, a county, into golden summer memories that last a lifetime for players, management and supporters. That's why we play the game.

Sadly I've come back to reality. I'm now an ex inter-county footballer and those days are behind me. What's the difference between being an inter-county footballer and an ex inter-county footballer? Well, time for one. As a footballer your week revolves around your training schedule. You get it on a Sunday evening and plan your week meticulously around training. Inter-county teams can train up to six times a week, so I have more time. You put your life on hold when playing and as a result, I'm finding more time to do other things now. I'm enjoying the little bit of media work I'm doing but I still can't stop saying "we" anytime I talk about Kildare. I'll have to work on that.

The 30 second chats with the local clubman can now last 30 minutes. I seem to have more of an opinion on what I think the team should be. As a player, positivity is vital in a squad and the manager's opinion is gospel. You don't question it, you understand it, respect it and get on with it. But as a supporter you question everything!

I also have a little more time now to get involved mentoring my club's U-16 team. We had a great result against Naas last Friday and I love the passion they display for the club and the sense of satisfaction you feel when you pass on a bit of advice and you see them follow it through on the field. I'm looking forward to more of that.

The passion those U-16s displayed made me think about getting back playing. I always said that I'd try and go back playing with the club later this summer but I have been putting off running for the last couple of weeks. Partly, because I'm still cautious about my back and partly because when you go back, you're back and there are no half-measures when it comes to training. I have rehabbed my back for the last twelve weeks, five times a week, but the difference is it's been at my own pace and in my own time.

It feels good now and last Saturday I decided to go for a gentle jog around the running track at the back of the home place. I started off easy and felt good so of course I pushed it a bit more and a bit too much. Maybe it was because Kildare were playing later that day and I wanted to feel that pride again, the kind that comes when you give it everything. It was great to be running again and the back felt good but a few days later my legs feel like they've been through a marathon and not just the eight laps. It's a good feeling though and I will get back light training with the club very soon. I'm really looking forward to that.

I still miss it though. I found myself wandering over to St Conleth's last Tuesday to watch Kildare training. I went over to the far terrace and kept the head down, just to see how the lads were going. It was a beautiful evening. I couldn't get over how young and fit they all looked. It's a young man's game now and pace is king. When you're in it daily you don't notice things like that but when you step away and peek back in you start to see things you didn't before.

I waited until training was over and headed for home. Some of the lads stayed behind to kick a few balls. I wasn't sad, I wouldn't be able for that level now and I'm content with that, but walking out of St Conleth's Park did remind me of those summer evenings kicking ball after ball over the bar, not wanting the night to end, not wanting to tog in and go home. Eating, sleeping, living and dreaming of football.

The difference now though, is that I'll make my own way to Newbridge on Saturday evening. I won't go to Hawkfield for the pre-match meeting. The gear bag will stay at home, empty. The boots will not be polished for months. I'll be clapping the team bus as it passes like everyone else, the hair will still stand on the back of my neck when the lads run out and I'll be roaring as the ref throws the ball in. Things are a little different now, but I still love this time of year.

This is the first of Dermot Earley's exclusive 'Midfield View' football columns, which will feature on GAA.ie throughout the summer. The opinions expressed in this column are personal and are not necessarily those of the Association.

http://www.gaa.ie/gaa-news-and-videos/daily-news/1/1707131055-dermot-earley-column/

[ross matt]

I swear this man's talents know no bounds, even if a skinny latte is a fancy dan drink more suited to Galway types than a rugged leader of men:

Midfield View: Dermot Earley on Football
Wednesday, July 17, 2013

I loved this time of year. Those summer evenings on the training ground with the midges biting, and the blinding summer sun. Kicking ball after ball over the bar, not wanting the night to end, not wanting to tog in and go home. Eating, sleeping, living and dreaming of football. Those were the best of times.

It was the excitement of championship week, the buzz of expectation in the camp, the long chats over a skinny latte (for any dieticians out there) with the lads about the game, the opposition, your own game, the team's game. It was the bits of advice you would get in the street, the 30 second chats with the clubman about the team, agreeing with him or her that this guy should be playing and that this guy wasn't up to the level. It was not telling your family the starting team, only because you wanted to keep it in-house and it was the giving out you received when the real team was released.

It was getting your gear ready three days before the game, match shorts and socks that were whiter than white, the old pair of lucky socks you wore underneath that had turned grey from too many washes. It was first cleaning, then polishing, and finally shining your football boots (Puma King –old school). Both pairs, moulded and studs. It was taking out a new pair of gloves, and the ones you wore last week for the warm-up, then packing a third pair just in case you needed to change at half time.

It was checking seven times that you had your gum shield. It was that last minute check of the text from Briar to see what time and where we were meeting and to make sure you were wearing the right match day gear, even though you checked it the day before and the day before that. It was finally saying as you walked out the door, "socks, togs, boots, gloves, gum shield and towel" over and over again. Those were the best of times.

It was meeting at Hawkfield, St Conleth's, the Keadeen Hotel, Johnstown House or The Johnstown Inn. It was the pre-match meal, the nervous chat, the jokes, the texts of good luck on the phone. It was the last team meeting, the last minute changes, he was out and he was in. It was putting on the game face and looking around the room, making eye contact with the lads you would do anything for.

It was boarding the bus, sitting in the same seat, always left free because it was "your" seat. It was the Garda outriders that made sure we kept on the move. It was listening to your match day playlist on the iPhone, but still hearing the beep beep beep beeeeeeeeeeep of the Kildare cars passing, with the white flags flying out the back window. It was the opposition supporters giving you the thumbs down (and more) and the Kildare supporters clapping as you passed. It was sitting up in your seat when Semple Stadium, Celtic Park, Hyde Park, Markievicz Park, the Gaelic Grounds, O'Moore Park, Páirc Tailteann, O'Connor Park, Dr Cullen Park, Nowlan Park, St Conleth's Park and finally Croke Park came into view.

It was getting off the bus, and getting your seat in the dressing room. Same one as last time, you think? It was reading the match programme, checking your number, and looking at the opposition's team. It was getting strapped, rubbed, and stretched. It was warming up. It was the last minute one to ones, getting around to everyone, the' best of luck' and the 'be ready'. It was the claps on the back and the shake of the hands. It was the calling out of the team and subs. It was the putting on the jersey at the same time and tucking it in or out depending on how you felt. It was the huddle and the arms around the shoulder, the last few reminders and finally the manager's words.

It was the heart thumping, the hair standing on the back of your neck, the eyes welling, the deep breaths and the door opening. It was the darkness in the tunnel and the light at the end. It was the roar of the crowd as you emerged, it was the warm up, it was the last minute huddle, it was the parade, and it was standing to attention for the National Anthem. It was shaking the referee's hand, it was shaking your opponent's hand, it was nodding to your midfield partner. It was waiting for the ref to bend down for the ball, it was the roar of the crowd again, it was the shoulder, it was the ball in the air.....it was the silence...those were the best of times!

Why do we play the game? I take plenty of memories away with me, some more special than others. There is no better feeling than going out and standing shoulder to shoulder with your teammates and going into a battle. These are the guys that you see every day, talk the most to, and spend the most amount of time with. There is a collective dream that's more powerful than anything, that if achieved can give you the greatest sense of satisfaction that nothing (well almost) can equal.

Even in defeat there can be a bizarre pride among you, knowing that each and every one gave everything they had for the cause. That's the beauty of our games, a code unique to Ireland where success can stop a county in its tracks. Where a group of men and women from over the road or across the street, from within the community, can transform a village, a parish, a town, a county, into golden summer memories that last a lifetime for players, management and supporters. That's why we play the game.

Sadly I've come back to reality. I'm now an ex inter-county footballer and those days are behind me. What's the difference between being an inter-county footballer and an ex inter-county footballer? Well, time for one. As a footballer your week revolves around your training schedule. You get it on a Sunday evening and plan your week meticulously around training. Inter-county teams can train up to six times a week, so I have more time. You put your life on hold when playing and as a result, I'm finding more time to do other things now. I'm enjoying the little bit of media work I'm doing but I still can't stop saying "we" anytime I talk about Kildare. I'll have to work on that.

The 30 second chats with the local clubman can now last 30 minutes. I seem to have more of an opinion on what I think the team should be. As a player, positivity is vital in a squad and the manager's opinion is gospel. You don't question it, you understand it, respect it and get on with it. But as a supporter you question everything!

I also have a little more time now to get involved mentoring my club's U-16 team. We had a great result against Naas last Friday and I love the passion they display for the club and the sense of satisfaction you feel when you pass on a bit of advice and you see them follow it through on the field. I'm looking forward to more of that.

The passion those U-16s displayed made me think about getting back playing. I always said that I'd try and go back playing with the club later this summer but I have been putting off running for the last couple of weeks. Partly, because I'm still cautious about my back and partly because when you go back, you're back and there are no half-measures when it comes to training. I have rehabbed my back for the last twelve weeks, five times a week, but the difference is it's been at my own pace and in my own time.

It feels good now and last Saturday I decided to go for a gentle jog around the running track at the back of the home place. I started off easy and felt good so of course I pushed it a bit more and a bit too much. Maybe it was because Kildare were playing later that day and I wanted to feel that pride again, the kind that comes when you give it everything. It was great to be running again and the back felt good but a few days later my legs feel like they've been through a marathon and not just the eight laps. It's a good feeling though and I will get back light training with the club very soon. I'm really looking forward to that.

I still miss it though. I found myself wandering over to St Conleth's last Tuesday to watch Kildare training. I went over to the far terrace and kept the head down, just to see how the lads were going. It was a beautiful evening. I couldn't get over how young and fit they all looked. It's a young man's game now and pace is king. When you're in it daily you don't notice things like that but when you step away and peek back in you start to see things you didn't before.

I waited until training was over and headed for home. Some of the lads stayed behind to kick a few balls. I wasn't sad, I wouldn't be able for that level now and I'm content with that, but walking out of St Conleth's Park did remind me of those summer evenings kicking ball after ball over the bar, not wanting the night to end, not wanting to tog in and go home. Eating, sleeping, living and dreaming of football.

The difference now though, is that I'll make my own way to Newbridge on Saturday evening. I won't go to Hawkfield for the pre-match meeting. The gear bag will stay at home, empty. The boots will not be polished for months. I'll be clapping the team bus as it passes like everyone else, the hair will still stand on the back of my neck when the lads run out and I'll be roaring as the ref throws the ball in. Things are a little different now, but I still love this time of year.

This is the first of Dermot Earley's exclusive 'Midfield View' football columns, which will feature on GAA.ie throughout the summer. The opinions expressed in this column are personal and are not necessarily those of the Association.

http://www.gaa.ie/gaa-news-and-videos/daily-news/1/1707131055-dermot-earley-column/

Well done on posting that Syferus. Good read. Hopefully we'll see more of Dermot junior in the media or management down the road.

[Asal Mor]

Very good article.

[muppet]

You just knew Earley would fully appreciate every aspect of every game he played.

Too many of us only looked forward until it was over.

[ross matt]

You just knew Earley would fully appreciate every aspect of every game he played.

Too many of us only looked forward until it was over.

Too true......