A Line Drawn Between 2010 and 2026
We’ve talked a lot in 2025 — about oversight, about systems that look fine on paper but fail people in real life, about how inequality doesn’t start in Leinster House and doesn’t end there either. It shows up at kitchen tables, bus stops, club nights, and in the quiet decisions people make just to cope.
Back in 2010, during the last All-Ireland Games Josephine attended, I saw first-hand how fragile the reality was beneath the smiles. This was the era of austerity, and yes, people were struggling everywhere — but within the club environment, that struggle became invisible. Fees had to be paid. Travel had to be covered. Participation had a cost.
And people coped quietly.
Loans were taken out.
Meals were skipped.
Support came not from structures or oversight, but from individuals stepping in behind the scenes.
That wasn’t resilience.
That was survival.
Fast-forward to 2025, and we’re still having the same conversations — about clubs with unclear governance, blurred personal and official roles, WhatsApp numbers representing organisations with personal photos instead of transparency, and serious questions about how money, decisions, and power are actually managed on the ground.
We’ve talked about disability services collapsing into parents’ laps.
About SNAs and teachers being stretched beyond breaking point.
About children missing early intervention, waiting years for assessments, and families being forced to fight the State just to access basic supports.
About millions being spent resisting parents instead of helping children.
And now Josephine is heading to the All-Ireland Games in 2026.
The difference this time is this:
I won’t be quietly propping things up.
She knows where my door is. She always has.
If she genuinely needs my help, I won’t turn her away — that’s not who I am.
But otherwise, I’m standing well back.
Not out of bitterness.
Not out of anger.
But because systems only improve when they’re forced to carry their own weight.
If an athlete can only cope when someone outside the system steps in privately, then the system hasn’t evolved — it’s just learned to hide its failures better.
So let’s be honest in 2026.
Let’s see if things really have changed since 2010.
Let’s see if participation no longer comes at the cost of wellbeing.
Let’s see if inclusion finally means support without sacrifice.
Because progress isn’t measured by medals, awards nights, or glossy photos.
It’s measured by whether someone like Josephine can take part without having to struggle in silence.
That’s the conversation we’ve been having all through 2025.
And it’s one we shouldn’t stop having now.