Do you, like me, take the new Croke Park a little bit for granted? Now that the Hill has been realigned, the HQ of our national games rises magnificently to its full height, one of the finest stadiums in the world. Owned by an association that is essentially an amateur one. Read that line again and you begin to realise that we probably do take its existence for granted. It is twenty years this summer since I first played a senior championship match in this ground. That was back in the bad old days of Mayo football when we rarely got there and when we did results never allowed us return, for that season at least. Some things never change you might say but you would be wrong - Mayo go there regularly now, often a couple of times per year. As minors we were used to heading east to Dublin - we could argue we were the Kerry of that grade for almost a decade. The stadium was old and dreary of course but it did not appear that way to us. The pitch was a little uneven and that surprised me. The dressing rooms and showers were shocking, the stands and ancillary facilities little better. You never noticed that though as the sheer thrill and excitement was everything. At long last, a Croke Park player. I had the great thrill and honour to play a senior final there and can only imagine the pleasure winning one must bring. But memories of participating, being there, are still clear. I thought it might be informative to trace the differences that have taken place in the short two decades. We travelled on a Saturday evening and would stay in a cheap but cheerful hotel. The hum of constant traffic outside my bedroom window was new to me and it kept me awake most of the night. Sunday morning, following Mass, we would have a stretch and kick around in the Phoenix Park. For league quarters or semis we might be billeted in the Skylon and head up to St. Pats for the 'loosener'. It was a simple walk to Croke Park from the hotel - no super buses then to slip you into the bowels of the new stadium. Supporters would be in the foyer milling around and chatting to us - innocent times. As mentioned the dressing rooms were tiny; we would enter the pitch from the Cusack Stand side, up a caged tunnel and out onto the field of dreams. Later on we were housed at the junction of the Canal and Hogan and truly, that dressing room was fit for under 12s only. The crowds were much smaller too - only a final could be guaranteed to stretch the capacity. Anyway, Dublin and Kerry played in all of them so we only got the bit parts! The Mayo players based in Dublin trained with their Kerry counterparts under the watchful eye of Micheal O'Muircheartaigh - the training was fantastic - loads of ball work and a long run to start and finish the session. The lads back in Mayo were being slaughtered as the days of total fitness began to break into every team's preparation. In Dublin we were aping the Dutch soccer team of the time - total football! Thanks for that Micheal! One of my lasting memories of games in Croke Park was the colour of the clay that stained your kit or lodged around your boot studs. It was coal black and I never came across it anywhere else - when you fell, skidded, tumbled or just collapsed, the fall was easier, the ground more receptive. I would leave the stains on the kit for a week or two so that I could explain to my club mates what the real differences were. When at last Mayo got to a senior final in 1989, their first one in almost forty years, it was always going to be a learning curve for the players and the supporters. Tickets were hard come and the only passes players got then were the ones on the field and only then if the athletic midfielder saw you as the last option. Having exhausted my contacts and given the few I had to immediate family, an uncle was left disappointed. As he was a Galway man by birth I was not too worried about him but failed to realise he was used to the Croke Park environment on big days. After all his boys played there throughout the 70s and 80s. The team bus arrived outside the Hogan and the players had to fight their way to their entrance. As I stepped down, I suddenly had a foreign hand grip my kit bag - 'Keep going, pretend I'm the team doctor' a voice said and in a flash Galway uncle was inside the ground! Could you imagine security allowing such a daring raid today? Or a team manager even allowing such an arrival? What would Joe Kiernan think about this exposure to the masses, loss of concentration and focus? Working with RTE on the day of a big match in Croke Park is indeed a tremendous experience. Not having played in the new stadium, it is the closest any of the pundits get to the arena nowadays. Indeed, it is a common wish among us - to have been around today to sample the atmosphere and playing conditions - the beautiful surface, the open spaces, the increased colour, the music, the razzmatazz. I often arrive around noon on the day of a big game there. Sometimes I will arrange a tour for a friend and his son and they are naturally amazed. It starts by entering at the Hogan side of the Hill - the stewards allow us pitch side for a quick panoramic of the field and stadium. On a sunny morning, it is breath taking. From there we wander over to the RTE outside broadcast unit and as Christy Moore once said: 'You'd never know who'd be about'. A quick explanation on how the TV programme is put together and it's onto the dressing rooms, medical area, interview rooms, management room, warm up area and then out the tunnel and you are pitch side once again. The size of the rooms is what gets you-the warm up area is big enough for a decent 5-a-side and you have to shout across the changing rooms to get the scissors from you playing comrade. On we go then to the camera area where we do the co-commentary from. Again, the view, halfway up the Hogan and in the middle of the field is fantastic-best seat in the house. When I did my first gig in the mid 90s we had to climb a forty foot ladder at the back of the Nally - fear of heights meant you missed the off! And tough luck if word filtered to the fans that you were being hard on their team-you had to stay a bit longer than usual before they allowed you down. Finally, we go to the pressroom and we meet my old trainer Mr. O'Muircheartaigh as he busies himself digging for the latest news of injuries or changes. A coffee or tea and a sandwich are on offer and the papers can be read in peace. If you want to plug in (power and telephone!) the PC and get some early paragraphs on the screen there is a room off the main dining area to look after your needs. Many ex players are now in the punditry game-print, TV, radio, both national and local. Our last port of call is the RTE Studio on the Canal End - Michael Lyster will be warming up and preparing for the days fun. A few former stars will sit in for the obligatory photo and autographs and the pre match tour is finished. It all takes 30 minutes or so and it must be a dream like day for any youngster. Thankfully the officials in Croke Park are most obliging and so long as you are off their beat before the crowds begin to arrive, the atmosphere remains akin to dropping in to your local pitch for a walk around. Long may it remain so. All you need now is a good result for your team and the journey home is that much shorter. Yes, we all probably take it a little bit for granted. Tweet

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