Statement issued by the GAA in May 1916 in response to allegations made by the Rebellion Commission, set up by the British to investigate the Rising, that the GAA was involved in the planning and staging of the Easter Rising. In this statement the GAA strenuously expresses its non-political constitution. Click the image to read the statement in full. (Image: GAA)
Reports from Mayo in the summer of 1916 revealed a county in a ‘peaceable’ condition and with, amongst other things, a thriving GAA community: in all, the county was said to have boasted 18 clubs with just over 1,000 members. The strongest of these clubs was undoubtedly Ballina Stephenites. Founded in 1888, they had dominated the local Mayo scene since the turn of the 20th century, and spent years scorching all Connacht opposition at a time when champion clubs also served as county representatives in provincial and All-Ireland competitions. In 1908, they even secured national honours when defeating Kerry in a Croke Memorial Cup final. This was a day when at least one journalist – a reporter for the Western People – parked his professionalism in favour of partisan self-indulgence. Disabusing his readers of the expectation that they might receive anything in the way of actual reportage, he wrote: ‘I put my notebook away when Andy Corcoran (the captain) won the toss, and thereafter, along with hundreds of others, I abandoned myself to an hour’s delightful cheering and yelling.’ If this was primarily a Ballina triumph, the joy was by no means confined to the town. In Crossmolina a tar barrel was set alight to honour a moment that created ripples of excitement across the county. By 1916, the Mayo team was still backboned by Ballina men, though it was bolstered – as was then commonplace – by select players from rival clubs, including Balla, Ballyhaunis, Kiltimagh, Lacken and Swinford. It appears not to have been the most harmonious of mixes. When they took the field in Castlerea against Roscommon for the Connacht final at the start of October, they were a seriously depleted outfit – seven of those selected to travel failed to show up and a further two refused to tog out. As it transpired, the team was plagued by unwanted controversy. Later, when they defeated Cork in the All-Ireland semi-final, they were forced to do it all over again – on a day so sodden the referee wore his Mackintosh throughout – after an objection was lodged that they had played an illegal player in Bernard Durkin, a Mayo native who had earlier the same year played in a Cork County Championship for Youghal. For all that the extra game stood to Mayo, it also exposed weaknesses that could only be addressed, many believed, by better preparation. The message that went out was clear-cut. As one GAA writer put it starkly: ‘The war cry for the present Mayo team is – Train! Train! Train!' There was nothing particularly sagacious in this advice; most of the top teams were already doing this as a matter of course. However, the problem for Mayo was that, whatever way you looked at it, they appeared to be starting from a poorer position than their final opponents. Nowhere was the disparity more striking than in the resources available to the two sides. Wexford had raised £100 in subscriptions and secured a grant of £25 from the Leinster Council before a cash-strapped Mayo had gotten out of the fundraising blocks. It was late November, less than a month before the final, when the county eventually launched a training fund to help defray the costs of organising trial matches against their provincial neighbours and to ensure, as one contributor put it, that they didn’t suffer from a ‘lack of the sinews of war’. Clubs and the county board established committees to solicit money and commitments were given that all contributions would be dutifully acknowledged in the local press. That they were, but the purpose of publication was as much to shame as name. Indeed, slackers were unrepentantly called out. So while the people of Ballina and Crossmolina won plaudits for their efforts, those from Foxford stood indicted: ‘There’s an old saying that “apples will grow again”’, one scribe observed. ‘When they do they won’t ripen in Foxford.’
The Wexford (Blues & Whites) team that won the 1916 GAA Football All-Ireland title. (Image: GAA)
The final, when it finally arrived, disappointed in every way. Despite the temporary easing of train restrictions that had already forced the deferment of the hurling decider until late January 1917, it was played before a small crowd of 3,000 and on a pitch that barely cut muster. The conditions undoubtedly conspired against good football, yet the match itself was, as one report had it, remarkable only for its ‘tameness’. It’s perhaps sufficient to say the outcome was never in doubt and that the Wexford-men won, on a 3-4 to 1-2 score-line, easing up. The Mayo players were not exactly crestfallen at the result. There was no wailing, no recrimination, no burning regret at perhaps a once in a lifetime opportunity squandered. Theirs was not a house of pain. On the night of their final they happily joined with the Wexford players at an ‘all night dance’ at Conarchy’s Hotel on Dublin’s Parnell Square. And their captain, Frank Courrell, expressed himself pleased with his team’s performance. The players, he felt, had acquitted themselves well as individuals if not as cohesive unit. In any case, as Courell himself confessed, they had never come to Dublin ‘with the idea of beating Wexford’. Not a bit of it. ‘We came with one object’ Courrell said, ‘to fight every inch of the ground and go down gamely, and we did. We Connachtmen pride ourselves on the fact that we entered the final for the first time, and we are not a bit downhearted on our defeat by such a splendid side.’
Many years on, Stuart Wilson vividly recalled the Dennison tackles and spoke about them in remarkable detail and with commendable honesty: “The move involved me coming in from the blind side wing and it had been working very well on tour. It was a workable move and it was paying off so we just kept rolling it out. Against Munster, the gap opened up brilliantly as it was supposed to except that there was this little guy called Seamus Dennison sitting there in front of me.
“He just basically smacked the living daylights out of me. I dusted myself off and thought, I don’t want to have to do that again. Ten minutes later, we called the same move again thinking we’d change it slightly but, no, it didn’t work and I got hammered again.”
The game was 11 minutes old when the most famous try in the history of Munster rugby was scored.
Tom Kiernan recalled: “It came from a great piece of anticipation by Bowen who in the first place had to run around his man to get to Ward’s kick ahead. He then beat two men and when finally tackled, managed to keep his balance and deliver the ball to Cantillon who went on to score. All of this was evidence of sharpness on Bowen’s part.”
Very soon it would be 9-0. In the first five minutes, a towering garryowen by skipper Canniffe had exposed the vulnerability of the New Zealand rearguard under the high ball. They were to be examined once or twice more but it was from a long range but badly struck penalty attempt by Ward that full-back Brian McKechnie knocked on some 15 yards from his line and close to where Cantillon had touched down a few minutes earlier. You could sense White, Whelan, McLoughlin and co in the front five of the Munster scrum smacking their lips as they settled for the scrum. A quick, straight put-in by Canniffe, a well controlled heel, a smart pass by the scrum-half to Ward and the inevitability of a drop goal. And that’s exactly what happened.
The All Blacks enjoyed the majority of forward possession but the harder they tried, the more they fell into the trap set by the wily Kiernan and so brilliantly carried out by every member of the Munster team.
The tourists might have edged the line-out contest through Andy Haden and Frank Oliver but scrum-half Mark Donaldson endured a miserable afternoon as the Munster forwards poured through and buried him in the Thomond Park turf.
As the minutes passed and the All Blacks became more and more unsure as to what to try next, the Thomond Park hordes chanted “Munster-Munster–Munster” to an ever increasing crescendo until with 12 minutes to go, the noise levels reached deafening proportions.
And then ... a deep, probing kick by Ward put Wilson under further pressure. Eventually, he stumbled over the ball as it crossed the line and nervously conceded a five-metre scrum. The Munster heel was disrupted but the ruck was won, Tucker gained possession and slipped a lovely little pass to Ward whose gifted feet and speed of thought enabled him in a twinkle to drop a goal although surrounded by a swarm of black jerseys. So the game entered its final 10 minutes with the All Blacks needing three scores to win and, of course, that was never going to happen.
Munster knew this, so, too, did the All Blacks. Stu Wilson admitted as much as he explained his part in Wardy’s second drop goal: “Tony Ward banged it down, it bounced a little bit, jigged here, jigged there, and I stumbled, fell over, and all of a sudden the heat was on me. They were good chasers. A kick is a kick — but if you have lots of good chasers on it, they make bad kicks look good. I looked up and realised — I’m not going to run out of here so I just dotted it down. I wasn’t going to run that ball back out at them because five of those mad guys were coming down the track at me and I’m thinking, I’m being hit by these guys all day and I’m looking after my body, thank you. Of course it was a five-yard scrum and Ward banged over another drop goal. That was it, there was the game”.
The final whistle duly sounded with Munster 12 points ahead but the heroes of the hour still had to get off the field and reach the safety of the dressing room. Bodies were embraced, faces were kissed, backs were pummelled, you name it, the gauntlet had to be walked. Even the All Blacks seemed impressed with the sense of joy being released all about them. Andy Haden recalled “the sea of red supporters all over the pitch after the game, you could hardly get off for the wave of celebration that was going on. The whole of Thomond Park glowed in the warmth that someone had put one over on the Blacks.”
Controversially, the All Blacks coach, Jack Gleeson (usually a man capable of accepting the good with the bad and who passed away of cancer within 12 months of the tour), in an unguarded (although possibly misunderstood) moment on the following day, let slip his innermost thoughts on the game.
“We were up against a team of kamikaze tacklers,” he lamented. “We set out on this tour to play 15-man rugby but if teams were to adopt the Munster approach and do all they could to stop the All Blacks from playing an attacking game, then the tour and the game would suffer.”
It was interpreted by the majority of observers as a rare piece of sour grapes from a group who had accepted the defeat in good spirit and it certainly did nothing to diminish Munster respect for the All Blacks and their proud rugby tradition.
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After retirement to stud his popularity continued. He starred in the film Wild Boy (based on his life-story) in 1934 which was shown in cinemas all across the UK. He was in huge demand on the celebrity circuit, opening shops, attending big races and even rubbing shoulder with royalty (such as the King and Queen) at charity events. When he died in 1939 aged 12, his owner donated his body to the British Natural History Museum in London. And Mick`s fame has continued ever since. In 1981 he was inducted into the American Hall of Fame (International Section). In 1990 English author Michael Tanner published a book, Mick The Miller - Sporting Icon Of the Depression. And in 2011 the people of Killeigh erected a monument on the village green to honour their most famous son. Mick The Miller is not just the most famous greyhound of all time but one of the most loved dogs that has ever lived.
