John McDonnell, the most successful coach in American college athletics history, went to the same primary school as I did in the tiny west of Ireland village of Moygownagh , and ran barefoot through the field of rushes and damp grass opposite, running into the sunset hills for the sheer joy of it. I played gaelic football on that same soil, now a modern sports field and remember how I would mentally berate myself each time I ill-judged that pass, mis-kicked the clearance and lost my marker. The fear of the next mistake would wrap cold me in an unforgiving vice and I would curse my stupidly or cowardice under my breath. I wanted to just get to the end of the game without making another mistake, so played it as safe as I could. Limiting my mistakes by limiting anything creative in my football.  As a safe mediocre player I sought to avoid being jeered or cursed at (mainly by my inner self!). I choose relief at the final whistle rather than being truly creatively alive during the game - which was after all surely the whole point of playing football - for the joy of it.