It would appear to be from my late uncle Jimmy I inherited the gene as a GAA souvenir collector. Whether it be match programmes (mostly) or ticket stubs or photographs etc. I never knew Jimmy as he had passed a year before I was airlifted into the world. But well qualified sources attest the similarities are numerous.
Da, Lord rest him, and his three brothers and one sister were born and raised in what to me will forever be the Corner House. A mud walled cottage, originally with thatched roof which was later galvinised, which pre-dated The Famine of 1847.
Aunt Eileen was the last of the family to live, and die, there. Her passing coming in December of 1992, just ten months after uncle Billy. Leaving the old Boylan homestead derelict before it was gutted in a fire on Christmas Eve of ’96 in a blaze that was about as much of an accident now as Trump getting a bullet in the ear.
Thankfully, the old man had rescued whatever few artefacts of value – sentimental or otherwise – before my most beloved place met a completely ill-fitting, heartbreaking end.
And one such rescued gem is poignantly to the forefront of thoughts this weekend. The photo of the Meath team which contested the All Ireland SFC Final of 1939. Captained by the great Mattie Gilsenan, that team also included Hughie Lynch, whose son Declan has become a treasured friend over the last decade or so.
But, this evening, with tears welling up and a lump in the throat, it is another celebrated member of that team, the late Jack Cummins, following the passing of his son, my mentor, colleague and, above all else, friend, Brendan.
Besides the obvious heartache at the loss of somebody held so dear, the other abiding feeling as Brendan’s passing began to penetrate the mindset was one of mourneful gratitude at having had the opportunity to give Brendan and his brother Pat copies of the 1939 photo.
***
The voice of sport in Meath has fallen silent. LMFM Radio first hit the airwaves in 1988/’89, with Brendan joining the team in 1992. Back then, Shay Savage was the anchor/presenter of Sunday Sport while Brendan and another sadly missed colleague and friend, the late Kevin Mallon, graced sidelines up and down the county and country bringing Meath GAA to life.
I’m not sure at what stage Shay left LMFM, but what is known absolutely for certain is that, from the time I followed another of Jimmy’s footprints and got involved with St Peter’s, Dunboyne at committee level, both as Co Board P. R. O. and head of sport at the local radio station, Brendan couldn’t have been more patient, understanding and encouraging. As were all branches of the local media to be fair.
If there’s one thing liable to grind the gears of the occupant of this seat, it’s either folk who can’t see past the seat, or can, but, assume that one cannot intelectually function of one’s own accord. To their credit, that was never an issue with any of the local press pack, but it still gave me quite the lift to see me doing thlngs which, in my case, wouldn’t cost me a thought.
For example, prior to and after Dunboyne’s first Meath SFC success of 1998, former Meath Chronicle reporter Carlo Divito and Brendan – writing in the Meath GAA Yearbook – both observed “17-year-old Boylan arrives to every (Dunboyne) match armed with typed out team sheets – one for each of the local press – as well as summaries of Dunboyne’s recent form, stats and previous meetings with opponents”.
Just doing my job lads. Except it never feels like a job. Chances are, a lot of the surprise and plaudits stemmed from everything being typed out. But what they wouldn’t have known was that typing was out of necessity as you’d read Brail handier than my handwriting!
When you work in tandem with someone for as long as was the case with Brendan and I, it wouldn’t be normal if sparks didn’t fly an odd time. Only once in 27 years. And, while another individual could justifiably be labelled as stirring the sh**, it was entirely my fault. Youthful naivety and lack of street smarts.
Our club had a very high profile fundraiser upcoming and I would have been strongly of the view that Brendan should’ve been the only MC even considered.
But my ‘superior’ plumped for an RTE hasbeen who would know as much about GAA as a cow would about Bank Holidays. Worse still, the genius guiding me says “Make sure you send (Brendan) Cummins a copy of the press release about… “
And of course, like a gobs***e, muggins here goes and does it. Which then resulted in the only even partially cross words uttered between yours truly and the great Dunsany clubman.
“What the hell is that, some sort of joke? ” Now, cognisant of the fact that relationships are a huge part of what makes working in media doable, there was no way I was taking the fall for it on a solo run.
So the text message got the following reply – “Only following instructions from XXX, take it up with them”. Which, being the thorough and loyal gentleman he was, he duly did, and a cross word never passed between us again.
In fact, as former Meath senior football captain Shane McEntee eloquently put it on Saturday afternoon “A great man, and somebody who you always knew had your back in doing his job once Meath were involved”.
Shane recently turned 31, but to a fella like me, that makes him seem like only a youngster. Yet the reverence, respect and genuine warmth with which the army officer spoke of the deceased is indicative of the esteem in which he was held by Gaels of all ages near and far.
This writer can personally vouch for the validity of both strands of my club mate’s observation. Objectivity absolutely went out the window with the voice of Meath GAA once anybody representing the county was involved. And secondly, from a personal perspective, the value of and comfort in knowing BC had your back was incalculable.
Two examples. What I think was during Barney Allen’s stint as Co Board Chairman, Brendan took on the role of Asst. Secretary, which meant, basically, that he handled the fixing, postponing and refixing of matches.
Anyway, one day he rings me and says “Summerhill are looking to get x fixture changed, would your lads have any objections”? I thereafter informed the honourable gentleman that I knew I wouldn’t be trusted to make such a decision, that the Brains Trust would have to be consulted and I’d get back to him asap.
Typically, despite trying his home and work phone numbers, the Chairman couldn’t be sourced. So I went looking for the Vice Chairman and got him. He also happened to be the manager of the team concerned.
Only for me to be publically excoriated by the big boss later the same evening. “Who gave you authority to change fixtures”? I rather forcefully pointed out that (a) I hadn’t changed any fixture, (b) two attempts had been made to contact him and failed, (c) that his second in command was made aware and (d) if he really wanted to take it up with somebody, go to his Vice Chairman or Brendan Cummins.
Foolishly for him, he chose the latter. Where he was told of the fine job yours truly was doing and how lucky the club were to have me. Case closed!
The other occasion on which Mr LMFM went above and beyond looking after me was a bit of epic. Surrounding the now infamous SFC semi final between ourselves and Navan O’Mahonys of 2005.
Owing to all the brouhaha surrounding the fixture, there was a protracted period of nothingness when nobody was sure who was going to face Blackhall Gaels in the Keegan Cup showdown.
But very quickly, on the evening of the O’Mahonys game, in the storeroom in Brady’s pub in the village, it was decided we prepare for the final until we hear otherwise. That meant a very hastily arranged press morning.
So rushed, was it, in fact, that somebody, cough, had to finish recording the interviews off a scripted list of questions and then whisk the recording equipment down to Pairc Tailteann where he was already getting set up for the JFC Final – the big one on the particular day.
However, he still found time to have four Stewards on standby to assist conveyance for myself and da. Two to get the van right in to the back of the stand and another pair in case there was any crossfire from the aggrieved, with all sorts of protests being mooted.
***
As was said following the passing of another County Board stalwart once, the longer we spent together, the more we realised we had in common. To the extent that, when the opportunity came for me to run against him for the county PR position, rather than be offended by that, he welcomed it.
Going so far as to lobby the powers-that-be to create a role of Asst. P. R. O. but the will wasn’t there to pursue it.
However, time has proven that, as the years went on, he was assisting me. As in, assisting in keeping these wheels turning by way of keeping me as close as could be to the action at a time when being there in person wasn’t an option.
Well, that is to say, himself and Mattie Kerrigan did. Brendan and Mattie. What a double act. One to a certain extent the Godfather of Meath football, the other with a Hawking-esque swathe of knowledge on same.
At my own expense, it will be admitted that my own relationship with Mattie didn’t get off to the greatest of starts. Our respective clubs having been involved in a number of feisty encounters in rapid succession to each other and headstrong me wasn’t long about telling Mattie what I thought of him and his team.
Like so many facets of my life, though, bridges were built and hatchets buried one night in Brady’s of Dunboyne. When the Two Ronnies of the local sports media stopped in on the way from Croke Park on what was a great day for Meath football and a particularly proud one for the Summerhill club. The Royals, then under the guidance of ‘Banty’ McEneaney unexpectedly beating Kildare on a day Conor Gillespie ruled the skies around Dublin 3.
The world does indeed work in mysterious ways. Brendan’s beloved Dunsany did eventually win the Meath JFC at the ninth time of asking just months before his death, Conor has gone on to be the huge influence on the future of Meath football that Brendan and so many of us felt he always would be. Albeit not in the sense any of us would have wished.
And so this journey of grieving tribute nears its end, the mind is drawn to our last meeting which, though months ago now, stabs like a stitch in your side. “Hopefully I’ll be here to see one more Cheltenham” were the last words he ever said to me.
Alas he will be laid to rest just as the flag falls on the first at Prestbury Park on Tuesday. Rest easy old friend, your pain is over.
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