I honestly can’t believe the following is having to be written in the applicable context. The appended letters in brackets aside, one could simply write Jimmy Brady Ballinlough GFC and no more would be required. Jimmy was the club, and the club was Jimmy.
One simply couldn’t imagine one without the other. Yet that is the heartbreaking, devastating reality many of us are now adjusting to. Following news of Jimmy’s passing following a long and typically brave battle with illness.
Phrases like ‘Legend’ and ‘One of a kind’ are often tossed around like snuff at a wake, but they should be gold plated for ‘Brady from the ‘Lough’ as he was known to so many of us. Anyone who was ever blessed to have Jimmy enter their lives knew you had a unique, special and ferociously loyal friend forever more.
People often ask me, when I’m doing a piece mourning the loss of somebody held dear, “How can you have stories of interactions with so many different people in life? “
The answer to that is gloriously simple. For all that is grieved – and the list is potentially endless – pertaining to a life on wheels, the blessing it is to be immersed in sport – and GAA in particular – where your hobby is your job is never lost on me.
And Jimmy, well Jimmy was just himself. They threw away the mould after the earth was blessed with the arrival of the big fella. How fortunate are we to have him cross our paths.
One thing is certain – even if it were only for a few seconds – if Jimmy touched your life – that was a story in itself. Yet, for those of us who became close to and worked with gentleman Jim will have enough memories not only to last a lifetime but to write a book or three. Maybe/hopefully someday myself, Declan Lynch and Susan Farrell will sit down and try to condence the voluminous gold.
Somebody once asked me how would I describe Jimmy. Christ, what a task. The best that could be arrived at was a cross between John Wayne, The Bull McCabe and any politician one cared to mention. John Wayne – because if you saw Jimmy’s ‘distinctive’ stride once, you’d recognise it from the moon, The Bull – well that scarcely requires elaboration, swap the word Field for Park and everything everything falls into place. And the politician – because, for all rough and ready rudiments of country life there were about him, when the occasion demanded, the suit would be summoned and he’d look quite the Statesman, and could orate accordingly too when required.
The Park – as the natives call Ballinlough GFC HQ – was Jimmy’s life, and he was the life of it. Every club has such devotees, but Jimmy was, just, different. An only child, his devotion to his late mother, for as long as I knew him, knew no bounds. “The mammy and the Park”, he once said to me, “that’s what it’s all about”. In hls case, never was a truer word spoken.
The only individual who in my book stands comparison to hls devotion to the red and white was the late Stephen Burke of Dunshaughlin. Both men lived for their club, and Stephen actually lived in the Dunshaughlin clubhouse. They’re probably comparing notes above already.
So, it could only be that those dropping in to see Jimmy one last time will be headed for the Park. Throngs of them. The queues could be back as for as Navan. In one direction, and Virginia in the other.
***
I first encountered Jimmy in what would be guessed was 1994. Meath were playing Fermanagh in the Fitzsimons Cup tournament hosted by Gaeil Colmcille. The home side actually wore the Seneschalstown jerseys on the night in question.
Anyway, at some stage, somebody asked the linesman who the lad that had come on in goals for Meath was. “Ronan Finnechin (Finnegan) from the ‘Wood” came the reply from the man mountain with the gargantuan stride in control of the linesman’s flag – as we were allowed call them then.
I wasn’t as tuned into the Meath GAA scene then as would go on to be the case very shortly thereafter, but the mind wouldn’t rest until the bounding behemoth patrolling the line was!
Very soon, though, all and sundry far and wide would know who “James Brady from Ballinlough” – as he always announced himself – was. Because the bould Jimmy went for and was elected to the office of PRO of the Meath Co Board.
Causing quite the sensation in doing so. To the extent that then Co Board Chairman, the late, great Fintan Ginnitty – with whom Jimmy was well used to going the proverbial 12 rounds – got into a right dither calling for recounts and the like until somebody pointed out to the big boss that a candidate, Jimmy, had been proposed and seconded and essentially that was case closed. Regardless of what other thoughts prevailed on the night, it can be fairly safely said there was never a more popular Co Board officer than the ‘for one season only’ PR man.
Mind you, speaking of popularity, when one saw J. Brady down to referee a match, the host club were guaranteed a few extra quid in the kitty as people would genuinely turn up just to see the big man in action.
And Lord he never disappointed. As one of his fellow former whistler said as news of Jimmy’s death numbingly filtered around the county very aptly put it “At least if the match wasn’t entertaining, Jimmy always was”!
Scarcely a shock, then, that there remain some gems of stories relating to the gentle giant’s career in the middle. The most mundane yet hillarious of which involved my friend and Meath Chronicle colleague Fergal Lynch.
My fellow scribbler was lining out for Trim against Athboy – as they were called then – when the wordsmith rolled his ankle and ended up stricken somewhere on the pitch. Upon notification of the injury An Reiteoir duly whistled up proceedings and, as only he could, loped up the field in his own time, at his own pace, and inquired of the injured party “Well Fergal, anything to report”? Let’s just say the journalist’s response wasn’t exactly printable!
However, anyone that bought Jimmy Brady for a fool would have a bloody bad bargain. Like his old sparring partner Mr Ginnitty and Jimmy’s namesake Oliver – our former Chairman here in Dunboyne – was as astute an aficionado of the rulebook as the one seeing eye here has ever crossed.
He seemed to literally carry it everywhere with him, including when he was actually going on ref duty himself. That in itself led to another Jimmy-ism which left those unfamiliar bewildered and scratching their heads, the rest of us barely able to breathe with the laughter.
Being as complete a GAA man as you were ever likely to encounter, it should be no surprise that himself was also an accomplished Ladies Football match official. Anyway, one evening, isn’t his nibs in charge of a match between a Dunboyne team on the way up and a St Ultan’s already established as a superpower, in Martry.
Somwhere along the way, somebody, I’m not even sure which side, questioned one of his adjudications. At which point the great man bellowed “No, I have the rulebook out in the car! ” At which point he promptly picked up the ball and marched off the pitch.
Now, the novices looked on, somewhere between terrified and just plain lost, but the rest of us knew exactly what was coming next. The giant frame was observed being contorted at all manner of angles that would leave a lesser being needing either a plastic surgeon or a panel beater to re-align themselves.
Until, eventually, he re-emerged like Father Jack off for his walk after pilfering the Bishop’s bottle of Jack Daniels and proceeded to quote “Rule x, paragraph 3, sub-section 5… “. Suffice to say the match official’s original proclamation stood!
Now, it would be asserted with 99% certainty that Jimmy never had a cross word with anybody or nobody ever had a bad word to utter about him. Though yours truly of all people nearly found an end to the great man’s infinite patience.
A rudimentary All County League game early in the season between our two clubs and Jimmy was, as he always did, running the line. Anyway, at one stage, a ball that was 50/50 at best goes out over the line and Jimmy plays the parochial card – something I would never knock anybody for doing when needs must – God bless Jim Watters, the best Dunboyne line umpire there’s ever been – unless, of course, it’s your own who are on the wrong end of the decision!
Thus, whoever was at the controls of the part of my brain that actually works on the day in question, I blurted out “For Jazus sake Jimmy, Stevie Wonder could see that was a Dunboyne ball”! “He might have, but I couldn’t see the line because of YOU!” Until, that is, he turned around and saw who it was that had differed with his view on things!
He then proceeded as follows – “Oh Lord Brendan, I didn’t realise it was yourself, may God forgive me”! No forgiveness required big fella, you were as right as I was wrong. Rebuke deserved and taken in good spirits.
The only way any interaction with Jimmy could be taken. Farewell my gentle friend, there truly never will be anyone like you. No doubt there’ll be queues above for you to be talking to!