Rivalries are a huge part of how sport becomes such an intrinsic part of many of our lives. As I begin to write this, I’m not long home from the latest coming together between Dunboyne and Dunshaughlin in the Meath Adult Football League. These wheels may not park up at as many matches as was once the case, but there are some for which not being there simply cannot be entertained.
A joust with the black and amber neighbours will always get the motor spinning just a tad faster. And it helps when, as was the case here, our side comes out on top. However, age and experience tells you to look at the bigger picture. Thus, even before the ball was thrown in last night my mind was elsewhere. In the football field above, actually. For it would be the first time paths would be crossed in person with Richie Kealy and whatever other members of the great family happened to be about since the heartbreaking loss of his sister and aunt Maria. When Richie and I embraced at half time, there was no need to say anything.
After the match, mind you, what was very raw personal emotion turned to shock and utter disbelief when news began to filter through of the passing of Teddy McCarthy. Cork journalist Denis Hurley posted about the greats only needing their christian names to be instantly recognised. That was certainly true in this case.
Teddy McCarthy was a legend. Not just a Cork legend. One who is assured of his place in the annals of GAA history. Nobody has ever achieved what he did – win All Ireland Senior medals in both hurling and football during the one season – 1990. With the GAA landscape having changed as if being hit by The Big Bang Theory in the interim, it’s surely impossible to see the feat ever being matched.
Even allowing for the fact that the game has changed drastically since those days, it still takes a bit of quantifying when trying to appraise Teddy’s achievement back then. Playing for one county team necessitates enough sacrifice and dedication. Now double it. Not only that, but in two different sports, filling two different positions and lining out for two different clubs. A truly extraordinary undertaking.
I actually have more vivid recollections of Teddy playing hurling than football. The All Ireland semi final of 1992 against Cork, he put in a shift of pure brilliance against what was a damn good Down team at the time. Their Gerald McGrattan got an All Star that season.
Then, the following spring, Cork and Wexford qualified for the National League Final and that end up turning into a three match saga. At least one of which was played on a Saturday. As clear as if it were yesterday, I can recall Teddy starring in that trilogy as the Rebels eventually saw off the ever dogged and brave Yella Bellies.
Now, many’s the column inch and minute of airtime were devoted to the rivalry that germinated between the Meath and Cork footballers between those years. Was it fierce? Absolutely. Did fellas skate thin ice and occasionally break it? Yes, on both sides. It was a different time then. Men were men and football was played by the principles it should always be.
Belts were given and taken, no quarters asked or given. Scores were kicked from way out the field and you wouldn’t be liable to be publicly pilloried for kicking a wide. The 1990 football final possibly stands alone as the best example of all of the above. Colm O’Neill hung the sweetest punch you are ever likely to see on Mick Lyons. In fact, it was probably the only punch that was ever thrown at Mick. It says it all about the rivalry, but more so the respect, between the two that (a) only one of that Cork team would have the balls to throw a dig at Mick and (b) that he just brushed his cheek as if cleaning a chocolate stain and trotted back to his spot as if nothing had happened.
Unfortunately for O’Neill, though, in possibly the only decent thing he ever did for Meath, Paddy Russell put him off. The whistler in question was so used to dragging our lads across hot coals that it was nearly inevitable that there would be a price to pay for his act of ‘kindness’.
It manifested itself in the most disappointing display ever produced by that great Meath team. I, and probably numerous others have spent large chunks of the past 33 years trying to figure out where it all went wrong. For what it’s worth, the nearest to an explanation this corner could arrive at is that they were thrown by having the extra man. From a perspective where they had operating a body light down to a fine art!
At a more fundamental footballing level, however, the fact is that Billy Morgan’s men were utterly dominant around centre field, with Shay Fahy putting on one of the storied All Ireland displays, kicking four monster points and being greatly aided by Danny Cullotty – or ‘Danny The Yank ‘ as he was immortally dubbed by Micheal O’Muircheartaigh – and Teddy who, although wearing No. 12, ran alongside Fahy and The Yank and did a right job up skuttling the Royal County’s decorated midfield duo, Liam Hayes and Gerry McEntee.
Rivalries are parked once the whistle goes. Bonds and friendships remain long after the boots have been hung up, jerseys framed or donated and the medals are (hopefully) put away for posterity. It irks me the amount of former players who at least give the impression of having no attachment to their souvenir collections. It’s a sad but true reflection of life now that teams don’t gather that much anymore – even among themselves, never mind with opponents. Except for anniversaries of great days or, is in this case, when somebody gets called to the dressing room far away. Especially when that call comes long, long before their time.
Alas, Teddy’s death means that now three of that great Cork team have now left us. Mick McCarthy and John Kerins already having been taken away all too soon. John’s death, however, delivered a set of circumstances which underlined how insignificant what we once think is important really is.
When the former ‘Barrs and Cork custodian fell ill, fate decreed that none other than Gerry McEntee would be heading up his care team. On the day the diagnosis was delivered, the big ‘keeper implored his old adversary to “Give it to me straight, McEntee”. It would never be any other way between those two teams.
Hard, brutal honesty, but always underpinned by an unspoken mutual respect. When it matters, it is shown. I recall, when Sean Boylan’s mother passed away, Billy Morgan, Larry Tompkins and others from that Cork group being here in Dunboyne. Likewise, when John Kerins left us, the Meath lads went en masse down to Leeside.
They’ll go again in the coming days, Gaels from everywhere will. There’s only one Teddy Mac. We’ll never see his like again.
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