I learned a long time ago – yes the hard way – that it is generally best to let emotions cool down before commenting on issues which have ground your gears. What tends to be divulged in the immediate aftermath of the occurrence or event might be the unfettered truth but it may end up landing you in more trouble than misgivings about it are worth. Now read on…
That my cases in point involve the person who will dominate this piece hereafter will cause shock with some and downright disdain with others, but if you don’t write from the heart you’re not being true to yourself. And, in the long run, if you don’t look after yourself, nobody else is liable to put themselves out to do so.
So we arrive at the first sticky patch. A Friday night in the autumn of the year. Around the time when the Meath manager’s job was up for ratification. Admittedly, this corner had a quantity of ‘diesel’ on board at the time, but, if I knew then what I know now…
Basically, I had been telling those in my company that the individual who was planning to challenge Sean Boylan for the Meath job had promised me a position on their backroom team if they were ratified. The problem was (a) as is often my undoing, I was a bit too audible giving my reasoning and (b) completely oblivious to the fact that Sean’s wife Tina and some of her family were at the table behind us.
Yes, I put my own two size 12s in it, but, what p****d me off that night and to be honest still does when its thought about, was the fact that all the others in the group I was with vanished once the faux pas had been dropped.
Now, true to form, Tina and her family couldn’t have been nicer about it, but of course, because my utterances had taken place in a watering hole, the ‘Boylan is anti-Boylan ‘ dross spread around the place quicker than flies populate a cow dung.
Aside from the fact that my very life itself – and those of members of my family – have often depended on him, the joy he and the footballers he guided for so long gave so many of us for so long has been the staple of what made life liveable for yours truly and many more besides. Even, or perhaps especially, when the county’s fortunes waned over the past couple of decades, being able to look back on the glory days has been a form of comfort and therapy all rolled into one.
However, so as not to be hypocritical, it will be admitted that there were times during Sean’s tenure that did upset me. Well, one thing in particular – the fact that some role or other couldn’t have been found for me in the backroom team.
As was said here in a previous piece, I would gladly have cleaned the toilets just to feel part of it all. Sadly though, disappointment at not getting a shout from Sean has only been compounded tenfold in the years which have followed when others – including the individual at the centre of this part of the story – made promises of the sun, moon and stars with regard to backroom teams, only for them to turn out to be nothing more than mimicking lip service.
Indeed, just when one thought all those type of off-the-ball digs had been dealt with for now until another list emerged that this corner thought his name would be on, but no dice. No matter, as the occasion of Sean’s 80th birthday passed earlier this week, one more time an attempt will be made to quantify the influence the man continues to have on those of us fortunate enough to have him cross our paths in life.
The following is undoubtedly cliched but is, in this case, the only thing that accurately conveys the state of affairs. I honestly cannot remember a time when Sean Boylan hasn’t been part of my life. I believe I was brought into Edenmore (the house) when very young. So long ago is it, in fact, there is no recollection thereof here.
From there, though, there’s been the ‘Chest’ bottle, the Hay Fever mix, the poultice for my broken foot and telling me my back was sore because I did a job on my right knee sitting on the Jax!
But, being honest, time has proven that it has been his non herb-related contributions which have resonated greatest and been most impactful in literally life changing ways.
Most obviously through football. Through the deeds he willed from several iconic groups of men under his direction. One of which holds joint billing as the greatest day of my life. July 6th, 1991. Foley’s goal, Jinksy’s point. The conclusion of the four match epic with Dublin. That day changed Irish history. Sporting and otherwise.
More than that, it set the course for my life’s path. Not only in terms of being the event that hooked me on GAA completely but, even more significantly, it was the first dose fed into my veins which then morphed into GAA being the most important thing in my life on levels which far outweigh the actual results of what goes on within the white lines.
So perhaps in one way, at a time like this, it is, in fact, almost obvious that, for whatever reason, a couple of non sporting stories which are to the forefront of the mind while even attempting to quantify a mere fraction of the incalculable, incomparable contribution Sean has made – and continues to make – to the lives of so many.
Well, I say non sporting, but, essentially, GAA was the starting point for the two of them. Both connected. Both very personal to me. Now, as anybody local or anybody who has been ingesting content on this seat for any length of time will know of the unbreakable bond there was between Tom Yourell and I. So when asked by the family to put together the oration to be delivered at his graveside it came with a mixture of honour, pride and heartache.
Writing it was one thing, but there was absolutely no way delivery thereof could be undertaken by the occupant of this seat. And with that being the case, there was only one man desired to do it in my stead – Sean. Thereafter, far too quickly, another issue pertaining to my dear departed mentor – of even greater delicacy than the previous one – needed to be dealt with in the most sensitive manner possible, so again, the man with the magic touch was the only one to ensure settlement of the situation to the satisfaction of all concerned. Though fittingly in that instance salvation was arrived at with the equally treasured assistance of our treasured mutual friend, the late great Mons. Ted Dunne – D.S.M.
Though perhaps unsurprisingly at such a special time as Sean’s milestone birthday, instinct draws me to recall just a handful of the innumerable times he has helped myself and my family in more recent times and continues to do so. Whether that be since ma suffered her illness almost a decade ago or what was ongoing compassion and care towards my late father throughout the last four decades of his life or the manner in which I have felt closer to him since da passed away than at any time in my four-plus decades on this big old spinning ball.
Even allowing for that though, I doubt anybody – foremost himself – foresaw a situation that involve him being part of a Meath senior football management setup in his 80th year. That said, any Meath fan who doesn’t admit to being even slightly excited at the news Colm had got him on board is either of a similar mindset to Donald Trump or about as lively as Lurch from the Addams Family.
Admittedly, for sporting romantics like this one, maybe we did let the heart rule the head a bit. Not in terms of notions of winning Sam or anything on that scale, but, after the opening two rounds of the National League, something like promotion to Div. 1 actually looked like an attainable ambition.
Right, so the wheels came off the league journey thereafter and the Leinster Championship loss to Offaly was one of the darkest days for the green and gold many of us can recall. Yet, with our greatest ever player and greatest ever manager guiding the ship, the waters were unlikely to stay choppy for long.
You know, time has proven, losing to Offaly may actually have been a blessing in disguise. Simply because being in the Tailteann Cup allowed what is in essence a very young Meath team to simply get used to winning matches again.
Then, naturally, when you get near the business end of a competition of course you want to go on and win it. Which they most brilliantly did. There’s hardly a need to mention the lift to the spirits the win was for yours truly.
But as is often the case, there was something much greater about it – reassuring almost – than the nuts and bolts of the results.
It was like a throwback to a different world. To when Sean and his deeds quite literally changed the course of my life. I wasn’t old enough to be aware of the Centenary Cup, but time, video clips and archives of newspapers and the like have proven just how ground breaking that victory over Monaghan was.
It was the first time some of the older soldiers got to be part of a winning team and was undoubtedly the catalyst for the most glorious years in our football history which followed. There’s no suggestion that similar bountiful harvests are afoot anytime soon but the longer the Tailteann Cup campaign went on the more like Sean’s Meath of old the team looked.
Putting these two back together was bound to lead to glory