Gaelic football was never just a sport for me. It was the reason I trained and the outlet for a competitive drive that’s always been part of me.

Even now, five years after retiring, I still feel the space it once filled. That’s why, when a few of the lads back in Sligo asked if I’d play Masters football during a short stay in 2023, I said yes without thinking too much, sure it will be fun and great to spend time with them again.

That yes brought me back into the game in a different way and sparked a memory from early in my career that I’ve never forgotten.

I was pulling an old pair of Predator Manias from the attic last week. The ground was hard and I needed a moulded boot. As I threw them into the gear bag, I was brought straight back to a game I played for Sligo in London, when I was still trying to establish myself.

It was the end of the season and I had been given a chance. Not many came around then, and I knew this was an opportunity to show what I could do. I was playing well, I felt sharp, I was confident. That sense of “I’m ready” was with me.

In the hotel before the match, the manager went through the team roles and when he got to me, he said, “You’ve been training well, this is your chance.” That landed with me. I was tuned in and focused.

But when I was checking through my gear, I spotted a small hole in the toe of my boots. My Manias. I’d never worn anything else and had convinced myself that I played my best football in them. What I hadn’t done was pack a second pair.

In a bit of a panic, I went down the road, bought a tube of glue, came back and patched them up. What I didn’t realise was that the glue had seeped through and hardened inside the boot.

The game started and I was moving well. I set up a few scores and started to find my rhythm, but something didn’t feel right. The top of my toe kept catching off something sharp. It got progressively worse. By half-time my sock was soaked in blood.

I put the boot back on and tried to keep going, but I couldn’t run properly. That sharp edge kept cutting in. I faded out of the game and was eventually taken off. No conversation. Just off.

That was a hard one to take. You know deep down when a game matters more than others. When a door is slightly open and you don’t get through it. I’m not saying I would have shot the lights out that day, but I was ready. I just wasn’t prepared.

And there’s a big difference between the two.

From that day on, I never forgot what happened. I never again showed up without a backup. Gumshield, socks, jocks, contact lenses, tape, strapping, extra boots. It wasn’t about being fussy or over the top. It was about learning what it means to respect the opportunity in front of you.

That one small thing, a bit of glue and a forgotten pair of boots, taught me what it means to take responsibility for the parts of performance you can control. I carried that lesson through the rest of my career. I can say I learned from it at least.

Performing at your best is hard enough when everything is going right. Don’t make it harder for yourself. Be ready. Bring what you need. Respect the moment. Two pairs of boots are in the bag as I head home this afternoon to play for the Sligo masters!