Conor McGregor means different things to different people, especially when it comes to how he’s viewed in Ireland when compared to the rest of the world. ESPN The Magazine’s feature on the fighter, “Crossing Crumlin Road” focuses on how Dublin celebrates its hero, even when the rest of the world reviles him.
Conor McGregor got cornered by drug dealers in Dublin, just so they could take his picture
Photo by Charles McQuillan/Getty Images
James Dator has been covering a wide range of sports for SB Nation for over a decade, with a special focus on the NFL.
McGregor was never shy in the UFC. He was confident, brash, and would trash talk his opponents like any great prize fighter. But this has taken on a life of its own in preparing for his Aug. 26 boxing match against Floyd Mayweather. It’s like the plot of a movie — the once-working-class hero now rides around in luxury cars, drapes himself in fur coats, and flaunts his finery.
But unlike movies, he’s still loved and celebrated back home with a fervor few athletes in the U.S. can appreciate. He’s never forgotten those roots and routinely enjoys poking fun at the Irish upper class:
McGregor loves tweaking Dublin’s two-tiered society; this spring, he bought a boat and parked it in a snooty marina in a snooty coastal town, near where U2’s Bono and The Edge live. He named it The 188, which is the amount of the weekly welfare payments he got until he started making money in the cage. Proper Dublin recoils from his type: the Crumlin hood rat, shaped by the limits that define him, hem him in, make him feel caged.
Your average working-class Dubliner knows the unpainted lines on the map — where they can go, which roads they can’t cross without expecting to get a beating. McGregor has transcended that with his fame, now able to walk through the most dangerous parts of the city unimpeded; a uniting force for the downtrodden:
“And when he got to the end of Sheriff Street, he realized there was no way out and he done a U-turn. And when he was doing a U-turn, three or four of ‘em got out in the middle of the road. The feud was up and running, and he’s kinda loosely connected with a few of the Kinahan cartel.”
McGregor hit the throttle and roared down the street. Drug dealers scrambled to whatever safety they could find as he sped through the intersection. A wise move in practice, but McGregor had underestimated the mania sweeping the projects and the lower-class quarters of Dublin. The dealers didn’t want to confront him.
They all had a phone in their hands.
They wanted to take his picture.
It would be a mistake to assume there’s blanket acceptance of McGregor in Ireland: far from it. Many detest him. The upper class of Ireland’s well-to-do have negatively compared him to President Donald Trump. They feel his bravado and carnival barking presents their country in an unfair light. McGregor has even been called a “disgrace to Ireland” in newspapers, whose primary audience is the upper class. This doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t fight for those people. He represents the Dublin of the streets, not in Parliament house.
McGregor is complicated, like all people. In the lead-up to his fight with Mayweather, he’s mocked the boxer’s reading skills and let his trash talk cross the line into race-baiting. He’s done things that are definitely not OK, but that’s partially what has made him a hero to people in the streets of Dublin — people who are unafraid to be controversial and happy to be rough around the edges. Nobody will unite the fractured, violent streets of Dublin, but McGregor can walk them without repercussion. A hero to everyone.
Take the time to read “Crossing Crumlin Road.” It goes into a lot more detail about the fight, McGregor’s move to Las Vegas for training, and how the nation is approaching this fight with fervor in the streets and no fanfare in the local media. It’s going to be fascinating to see how the city reacts to Conor after the Mayweather fight and when the fever pitch dies down.
