St Brendan's AC group with colleagues in Tullamore in the 1990s.
Saturday morning and off to Banna car park where I warm up for the weekly virtual St Brendan’s AC Fit4Life run. It’s a 5K today, the marrieds v the singles and the out-and-back route to Carrahane is selected. The oul legs are heavy after a sturdy 10x400m group session on Thursday last so this flat route should be easier.
Off I go with a blank canvas of the brain. But the persistence of memory takes over as the legs struggle straight away and the past begins to paint colours on the canvas. Places form a key soundtrack to the music of memory. For Ronnie Delaney there was only one place…first! For all mortal athletes there are places they like to run. They know where their feet feel alive and where their spirits are uplifted. Ger Carroll, Pádraig Regan and John Culloty are uplifted by the heights of the Gallán. For Coach Ursula Barrett it’s the 5K loop of Banna Beach and the Cúl Tráigh, especially where you turn onto the beach at Sandy Lane with a ragingly peaceful sun setting. For Cathy Flynn it’s the 5K Causeway loop or the Banna route. Anything that’s not hilly! Irene Butler likes the flat Banna run while David Butler likes Kerryhead where the scenery opens up as you stride on and offsets the hills which are the cost of enjoying the Ballyheigue region. “Sheer heaven” is how Paudie Dineen describes the run from Banna to Ballyheigue via the beach, refuelling with a creamy 99 and back again to Banna via the beach.
But as well as having our special training places, we also have special competition places and one of those is Tullamore Harriers track in Co Offaly. Sunshine and July bring back the annual trips there in the 1990s to generations of Kerry athletes and families. Around this time every July it was the ultimate national honour for St Brendan’s AC athletes to be involved. The occasion was encased in the place. It had a symmetry about it. Open sports over, county championships done, Munster championships savoured and qualification secured. A small but ambitious group Tullamore-bound. Training done in Station Road Field, Ardfert sportsfield and in the Cúl Tráigh. Friday night could mean a sleepover for a number of athletes in our house to ensure a quick departure at 6am on Saturday for the three-hour journey to Tullamore. Ceara Devane had to come from Annascaul early in the afternoon. It would be a long weekend for flyer who had joined the club at an early stage. Car always full as we head into the sunrise in the Rover 214 which knew the way to all athletic tracks. One or more cars would bring more athletes. By the time we got to Listowel, Natalie O’Connor would be asleep (on the floor of the rear of the car) and Paula McCarthy would be also in dreamland. Owen McCarthy would be stretching his legs on the dashboard on the passenger side, cool as a Ballinprior breeze. There was inevitably an orange sky as we passed Adare with its sleeping American tourists and onward to Nenagh where we would turn left as the endless sunny summer day beckoned. Sun was vital for a memorable national championships. Down memory lane all days in Tullamore were sunny. A lot of chat then in the car as lost sleep was retrieved. No mobile phones to interrupt the interpersonal intra-car involuntary intercommunications. Did I put my spikes into my spike bag? Oh, my mother packed them last night. Have you got your St Brendan’s AC singlets? There were always spare ones in the boot anyway. I have a sore ankle, David. We stop to stretch on the side of the road somewhere. Calf stretches in Offaly where calves as big as cows roamed the fields. How long more? This is going to be our day. It’s a bonus to get here. All the other athletes in the club will be waiting for news when we get back. Your performances will inspire them. They will be here next year. No pressure ladies and lads.
Certain journeys to Tullamore stand out. The morning we saw an injured baby rabbit on the side of the road about twenty miles from Tullamore. “Stop” says Owen McCarthy. I did. Out with Owen and talked to the poor rabbit for a few seconds. “We have to take him with us”, says Owen. I couldn’t say no to the top male sprinter in the club. He had already won the Celtic Games 200m in Scotland the year before. Baby rabbit put into the boot of the Rover with a spare St Brendan’s AC singlet around him and a pair of runners to stop him from rolling. Water in a sand shovel (anything could be found in the boot) and a piece of banana beside him. Did rabbits eat bananas? Off then to the track. Rabbit still alive when we got there. Would he survive the day? Let’s run for the rabbit, ladies and lads. If we do that, he will know. Medals won but the rabbit was in the great burrow in the sky at the end of the day.
On another occasion, Liam O’Riordan was driving. Took eyes of the signs which in the 1990s could be turned anyway. Left the map at home. Satnavs wouldn’t be invented for another twenty years. I think this is a shortcut. After some time there is grass growing on the middle of the road. Somebody said he saw a sign for the Aran Islands. Turn around! Stopped to ask a farmer saving hay laughed. He answered with a question. “Where are ye from?” A big discussion then about the Munster football final which was on later that day. Kerry V Clare. The farmer laughed…at the car-full of lost Kerry people or the chance Clare had of beating the Kingdom in a Munster football final. One of those possible reasons was not funny at the end of that Sunday afternoon. “How’s the hay in Kerry?” he called after us as we sped away after all the meaningful negotiations and news that Offaly would be back next year. Oh, and he did mention something about five-in-a row RIP tops that were still being sold in Tullamore!
Tullamore is enclosed by trees. An amphitheatre of athletics. Hot hot hot on a hot day. Pick a cool spot to establish base camp. At the west side beyond the finish line on the grass was ideal then. Check the programme. Listen for the announcements. Decide on a time to meet to warm up for the different events. Have a 7Up and a ham sandwich. Let the games begin.
This week was the 30th anniversary of Radio Kerry. Did my first live commentary on a cell-phone (as big as a sod of turf and as heavy as a brick) from the stand in Tullamore a few years later. Found out about it about an hour before the race from Séamus O’Mahony back in the studio in Tralee. Geraldine McCarthy (Listowel AC) was running in the 800m final and the people around me in the stand thought I was joking as juvenile athletics usually didn’t get live commentaries at the time (or now). May have tried to emulate Micheál Ó Hehir as one of our athletes held the programme up and pointed out the other competitors to me as they made their bid in a fast race. It was the longest 2 mins and 30 secs of my life and of course the gifted Geraldine played her part with a typically uplifting performance in the last 100m. Roared her home. Honour for the Listowel girl and a round of applause for the amateur broadcaster.
Kerry athletic clubs were always well represented in Tullamore with coaches, parents, officials and supporters sharing hope and dreams, chatting about which road they travelled up that morning and what they saw on the way. Damien McLoughlin was usually head time-keeper before electronics and was as good at timing as any machine. History and Con Dennehy will record the St Brendan’s AC athletes’ exploits in national championships in due course but Mark Griffin from England finds a place on the canvas of Tullamore with doubles in the 800m and 1500m with gifted performances. Mark’s father worked for Kerry Group in London and his aunt is Bridie Griffin from Kilmoyley. His cousin is Mike Griffin. Mark later represented GB in European competitions. An magic athlete who lit up a magic place. One of many.
Overnight on the Saturday was usually in bed and breakfasts around Tullamore. Ceara Devane didn’t always like the runny Sunday morning eggs for breakfast. In 1996 I booked accommodation for the athletes and two coaches but when we got to the house on Saturday evening after a good day of competition, the landlady could only accommodate one adult. I left Anne Crowley in charge and went to seek another b and b. No luck and I ended up in Roscrea quite a distance away before I secured a bed for the night. It also happened to be the occasion of the Olympic final in Atlanta of the men’s 100m which was due to be held at around 2am Sunday morning. A must-see. Good TV in the room (not always a given in the 1990s) and all I had to do was wait. The next thing I remember is waking to the news: “And after the drama of last night’s 100m final, Linford Christie explains how he was disqualified after two false starts”. It was 7 am and I had missed one of the most intense finals in Olympic history. Quick breakfast. Back to Tullamore where David Crowley had some super triple jumps. I didn’t miss that.
Road home Sunday evenings. Talk about who won what and who saw whom and who was the fella with the headband in the 200m. One evening we were stuck in traffic approaching Limerick and the road was full of Clare hurling supporters coming from the Munster final. I wound down the window to ask a crepe-hatted Bannerman who won. “We were beaten!” he said mournfully. “How much were you beaten by?” I asked. He looked at me earnestly with a Burren look in his eyes and repeated with emphasis “We were beaten”.
Stop at McDonalds in Limerick. Owen McCarthy loved the Big Mac. Ceara Devane loved curry sauce on her chips. Then westwards into a sun setting of another national championships. Another canvas coloured. Following generations of the club's athletes and mentors would enjoy Tullamore as well. Their storytellers will tell their stories. Stories painted for the future to be remembered after school, college, years-out, summer travel, relationships, changes of direction, rivers crossed, mountains climbed, life’s twists, life’s turns, dances remembered, dances forgot...
I finish my wobbly 5K in Banna carpark and turn on the radio. The Beatles are singing
“There are places I remember
All my life…”
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