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Superb photograph of the O'Callaghans Mills Hurling Team from the early 1900's. Origins : Ennistymon Co Clare. Dimensions: 27cm x 31cm. Glazed -
Great collectors item here - a picture of the 1977 Clare Hurling Team which won the National Hurling league Title.Note a young Ger Loughnane present in the front row and the later addition of a not exactly to scale man in the back row! 34cm x 40cm Kilmaley Co Clare (From the Examiner Newspaper) One of the 1970s’ great hurling forces was the Clare team of 1976 to 1978. They made three NHL Finals in a row, winning in 1977 and 1978. Their brand of play lit up many matches, leaving indelible memories for supporters and spectators. They reached the 1977 and 1978 Munster Finals, losing on both occasions to Cork. Next Monday evening, Councillor Tom McNamara, Chairman of Clare County Council, will host a Civic Reception to honour these players and their mentors. Fr Harry Bohan was manager, with Justin McCarthy acting as coach for the 1977 and 1978 seasons. Among the players, Séamus Durack (Feakle/Éire Óg) and Jackie O’Gorman (Cratloe) were mainstays during this period. Born in June 1951, Durack won three All Stars as goalkeeper (1977, 1978, 1981). He was first choice for Munster in the Railway Cup between 1973 and 1979, when they won the competition twice (1976, 1978). Born in October 1943, O’Gorman offered a powerful presence at wing back and corner back, appearing for Munster in 1972 and 1973. They spoke this week to about their careers. It is 40 years ago, just about, since the 1978 Munster Final in Thurles. What do ye remember about the build-up, the day itself? The build-up was unbelievable. There was no other topic of conversation in Clare. The level of expectation, especially after losing the Munster Final in 1977, jumped right off the charts. A massive crowd went to Thurles. 54,000 was the official attendance, and I think 5,000 people weren’t even let into the ground. We couldn’t get in the gate when we arrived at Semple [Stadium]. There was a lad inside and he wouldn’t let us in. I remember saying to him at one stage, and it coming close to the game: “Look, after another minute, we’ll make a decision and we’ll be gone back down that road and there’ll be no game here today, and it’ll be you who has the problem then.”To get from the Anner Hotel down to the pitch on the day was phenomenal in itself. We had a Garda escort, but even with it we could hardly get down with the crowds. It was frustrating. Here we were, in Thurles since early, and we still weren’t on time. I never got frustrated. What was the point? Jackie always had a more relaxed, practical view. He was years ahead of us, in every sense. He was ‘The Godfather’ and we all looked up to him. But to give you an idea of how different things were back then… When you came in the gate, at the back of the Old Stand in Thurles, getting to the front door of the dressing room was still a nice few yards. As I walked across, I met four to six people I knew as well as I knew Jackie O’Gorman.I saluted every one of them, and not one of them was capable of saluting me back. They were in a frenzy, a pure frenzy.
They thought Clare were going to win the Munster Championship for the first time since 1932. They were in a zone apart, going in to get their seat to see it all. So there was a tension-filled trip on the bus, followed by more tension at the ground. There was nothing that could have been done about it. I think the officials were overwhelmed by the amount of people that simply turned up, hoping they might get in.I didn’t get caught up in the hype at all. Goalies are different. Ye have to think about the game more. Ye can’t make a mistake. We can make a mistake, because someone will cover up for you, behind the play, what have you. But no one hurled that day in ’78, both teams. Cork didn’t hurl either. It was an absolute disaster of a day. Never got going as a contest. I’d go back a year. I think you have to go back a year, to the 1977 Munster Final, in order to understand 1978. If we had won in ’77, I’ll always maintain strongly, we’d have won in ’78. But refereeing changed the whole structure of that first game. We were hurling well in ’77. We were beating Cork, and we had them in desperate trouble all over the place, halfway through the first half. Noel Casey at full-forward was destroying Martin O’Doherty in front of the goal. We were under no pressure at our end of the field. Then it all changed. I was in the Town goal and Charlie McCarthy, at corner-forward, got involved with our full-back, Jim Power. I can’t say Charlie was a dirty player because he most certainly wasn’t. But that day there was a bit of skulduggery going on, and Charlie pulled three or four times against Jim Power’s leg, and nothing was done about it. Charlie should have had his name taken. Some referees might have sent him off. But it was let go by the referee on the day, Noel Dalton. Ray Cummins was full forward for Cork, a bright intellectual guy, a wonderful thinker about the game, a brilliant hurler. Ray was one of the three best forwards we ever met in Munster, along with Éamonn Cregan and Francis Loughnane.
Cork’s Ray Cummins (right) flicking the ball past Clare fullback Jim Power. Cummins goal in the 1977 Munster final turned the match around.You could palm the ball into the net or over the bar, so long as you hadn’t dropped the hurley first. They didn’t stop scoring with the hand until sometime in the 1980s, I think. But Ray Cummins dropped his hurley before he palmed the ball that hit my shoulder. Footage of the game bears out this point. Mick Dunne is doing the commentary for RTÉ and he expresses big surprise that the referee didn’t pull up Ray Cummins for dropping the hurl. Right. If the rule was there, it was there. But referees will always get stuff wrong… I’ll go back to the hurley being dropped and the other way it might have transpired. Instead of Cork getting a goal, Clare get a free on the 21-yard line, and I land it above in the far square on top of Noel Casey, who is having a right game and had already scored a goal. Maybe, off the free, Noel gets a point or a goal? Do you see what I mean? It was an awful big swing, on one incorrect decision. Anyway, shortly after that goal, another high ball arrives. And here is where Jackie O’Gorman comes in. Ray Cummins goes up for that ball, in a no man’s land between full-forward and corner-forward. Jackie comes across, being the bit of a free spirit he always was. He’s conscious Cummins has just scored a goal off a high ball, and he pulls, to make sure Cummins doesn’t catch this time. Jackie was just doing his job, helping out his man at full-back. I was great for that! Coming across, helping out. A regular Samaritan… Whatever way Jackie pulled, Cummins goes down, and there was a free in. Cummins gets up off the ground and faces back towards goals. Jim Power is in his way, standing there, in case there’s a quick free. As Cummins heads towards the goals, he went to go at Power. He must have thought it was Jim who had got him, but it was Jackie. Cummins was mouthing into Power’s face, and he was right up close against him, breathing on him. This is the white heat of battle, now. This is after Ray Cummins had scored a goal shortly beforehand, after Charlie McCarthy had failed to get booked for slapping at Jim Power. So he was rightly pissed off. Instinctively, with someone so flush in his face, Power did move [indicates a slight movement of head]. A flick, like that. Ray could have got an Oscar for going down.Then the crowd started baying. The referee came in (and I’m the only one who heard the conversation with his umpires). He comes in to the umpire on my right and says: “What happened? Did you see anything?” He said back: “No, I didn’t see anything at all.” Then Noel Dalton asked the other umpire: “Did you see it?” That umpire said: “He butted him with his head.” Dalton said: ”What? Are you sure?” He repeated: “He butted him with his head.” The ref walked out, took Jim Power’s name, sent him straight to the line. Ray Cummins got up 30 seconds later, played on, not a bother on him. If Power had broke his nose, fair enough. Take out the red card. Ray was a gentleman off the field, and mostly on it too. But it was a disappointing thing on his part. Then again, I suppose he thought Jim had caught him under the high ball… I don’t blame Ray. The real truth was that the referee wasn’t up to the job. His head went on the day. But when I look back on it now I have no regrets about any of it. No regrets whatsoever. I thought those years were the best years of our lives. Absolutely. They were the same for all of us. Ray Cummins was a really tremendous forward. And there was no ill-will in the slightest between Clare and Cork. No way at all. They were just a bit craftier than us. They were crafty, and 1977 proved it. We had to see out the rest of the game with 14 men. The free Charlie McCarthy struck over after that sending off put Cork up two points. We had been ahead five points, going great, and now, two high balls later… One was a free out and the other shouldn’t have been a red card. Jim Power went to hell and back over 1977, inside Clare and outside Clare. We’d have waltzed through Cork in ’78, only for ’77 hanging over us. That destroyed the whole scenario for us. Three-quarters of our team froze on the day in ’78. I mean, 13 points to 11 points as all the scoring done, in a top of the ground game that should have suited us down to the ground. Ray Cummins was one of the best Cork hurlers of all time but he hardly got a puck of the ball in ’78. Am I right in concluding that ye played on in 1977 with five backs on six forwards? That aspect would amaze people today, playing on minus a defender… Yes, we stayed with just the five backs. That was the way it was at the time. I stayed inside marking Ray and Charlie, with John [McMahon] on Seánie [O’Leary] in the other corner. Those days, the coaching end of it on the sideline was pretty basic. There was no such thing as take off a forward and put on a back. In our time playing, the game wasn’t analysed the same way at all. It was absolutely man on man, do your job, and get out of the way if you can’t do your job. We were never coached, as such. Justin [McCarthy] came in and did fine work on the skills end of it. But the game wasn’t looked into the same way as you have now.Every team took that approach to a sending off at the time. We didn’t think as much about it. That time, when you went playing hurling, it was to get away from work. Now the current lads nearly go to work to get away from hurling! The present player’s life is consumed by it now. I don’t think a full-time farmer or a tradesman could be a hurler now. Where would he find the time to do the training? Instead you can go off to work for the day. It’s grand: no gym, no weights, no nutrition checks… It’s nearly a break. You take the hamstring issue now. The present players get so much of this hamstring trouble because they’re straining so much one minute, going at it so hard in training, and then they go and work all day at a desk [mimics typing on a keyboard]. And then the whole thing, the whole body, goes slack. And then if they don’t warm up properly (and we are often laughing at the length of the current warm-ups), they’re fecked. It’s one extreme to another. I always equate it to a greyhound and a sheepdog. You never saw a sheepdog break its toe. Yet every day greyhounds run out, one of them breaks his toe. Because the greyhound is cooped up all day. Don’t get me wrong. I think the game now, as a spectator sport, is wonderful to watch. I love it. I don’t agree with this short game Clare were playing, and other counties. A lad runs out 50 yards from goal and he passes the ball sideways to someone… But Clare this year are gone away from that stuff and are playing a bit more direct hurling. They usually have three forwards inside now. The home advantage makes a big difference in this new round-robin system. It does. Clare should have beaten Cork, down in Cork, only the full-back line went ball-watching and allowed a ball that should have been let wide be struck back across, and a goal got off it. I think our forwards are doing pretty well but our backs, as a unit, are a bit vulnerable. They were cruising against Waterford, at home in Cusack Park, but conceded five or six points at the end of it for no reason I could see. As a unit, at the back, they don’t seem to know how to close it out. We’ve no enforcer in the current Clare team. John Conlon is the best we have at the minute, and he’s a great old warrior. But he’s not that kind of guy, the kind of lad who’s going to shout: ‘Come on! We’ll go through them now!’ We don’t seem to have any talkers. They’re playing a lovely game… They are, but it’s a schoolboy game. If you don’t have a couple of enforcers, particularly around the half-forward line, you’ll end up in bother. If you have overly fancy players under the dropping ball, you’re in trouble all day. Because if you have to go long, if the short game doesn’t work for you, you’re caught. If you don’t practise long, if you don’t practise hurling over your head, you’re sucked into an alien game, and you’ll be beaten when the game heats up. You can’t do what you didn’t practise. The big day, the hot day, you’ll be caught out. He doesn’t have to be scoring loads of goals or points, your enforcer. But he has to be going looking for work, knowing he has a lad beside him to give it to, a lad who’ll slot it over the bar. The only time Tipp are a force, in my view, is when [Patrick] ‘Bonner’ Maher is centre-forward, running at defences. [John] ‘Bubbles’ [O’Dwyer] won’t run through the middle. Neither will John McGrath or Noel McGrath. Tipp lifted off when ‘Bonner’ came on last Sunday. He scored a goal, even though he won’t always score a goal, because he’s not a good striker. But neither was John Power of Kilkenny or Brendan Lynskey of Galway. They bring something else, something vital, those sort of hurlers. -
36cm x 29cm The An Post GAA Hurling Team of the Millennium was chosen in 2000 to comprise, as a fifteen-member side divided as one goalkeeper, three full-backs, three half-backs, two midfielders, three half-forwards and three full-forwards, the best hurling team of all-time. The team, announced by GAA President Seán McCague on 24 July 2000 at a special function in Croke Park, was selected by a special committee, comprising five past GAA presidents - Joe McDonagh, Con Murphy, Paddy Buggy, Pat Fanning and Séamus Ó Riain - as well as GAA director-general Liam Mulvihill and four Gaelic games journalists: Paddy Downey, Mick Dunne, Seán Óg Ó Ceallacháin and Jim O'Sullivan. The initiative was sponsored by An Post, who issued special commemorative stamps of the millennium team members.Controversy
While universal agreement on such a team would prove impossible, the selection committee came in for some criticism regarding omissions and changes from the earlier GAA Hurling Team of the Century. Kilkenny's D. J. Carey was seen as a shock omission from the team. As the holder of a then record seven All-Stars, Carey, whose inter-county career began in 1989, was seen as one of the greatest goal-scorers of his era and was hotly tipped to get one of the half-forward spots for which he was nominated. The 1990s were regarded as a golden age of hurling with many new teams emerging, however, this was not reflected in the team. Clare's Brian Lohan had been tipped for full-back but Wexford's Nick O'Donnell held on. There were no places for any of the Clare team that emerged to win two championships in the nineties. Brian Whelehan was the only player from the previous 20 years to make the team. An absence of players from Galway also sparked off major controversy in that county where the selection committee were accused of belittling the county by not recognising any of its heroes. There was anger too in Wexford over the dropping of full-forward Nicky Rackard from the Team of the Century. Former midfielder Dave Bernie, who won an All-Ireland medal in 1968, when Rackard was a selector, said Wexford fans were stunned by the news he had not been included. -
Vintage J.J.Corry's Finest Matured Irish Whiskey Framed Advert 27cm x 35cm Corofin Co ClareKilrush,Co Clare was synonymous in the 1800s with a renowned whiskey bonder called J.J. Corry. J.J. was an innovator and a man before his time. His little shop at 63 Henry St. Kilrush was a key part of the local community and the only place where you could buy J.J.'s pride whiskey, "Corry's Special Malt." It was available by the glass for 3 pennies or by the jar.
J.J Corry : A Man Before His Time
J.J. was a true entrepreneur and innovator, born on a farm close to our brand home. Because he was not the first born son he was forced to make this own way in the world. We know that he dabbled in auctioneering before he set up his shop in 1890. Once he acquired the premises, and, after marrying the girl from the pub next door, he immediately set about developing his own brand. The town of Kilrush was a busy international port in the 1890s and J.J. would have purchased goods from all over the world directly from the ships’ Captains fresh from their travels. He sold tea from India, Rum from the Caribbean, Wine from France and Port from Portugal in addition to musical instruments, guns, ammunition and bicycles. As well as a pillar of the community, J.J. was also a true renaissance man and an early adopter of technology. As the social secretary of the town cycling club he even went as far as inventing his own bicycle, ‘The Gael’, after which we named our first whiskey. Most of all, J.J. was known for his hospitality and of course, his whiskey.
What is Irish Whiskey Bonding?
There was a time when every town in Ireland had its own particular flavour of whiskey. The Golden Age of Irish Whiskey (the late 19th century) saw hundreds of distilleries operating on the Island of Ireland. Most did not have their own brands of whiskey at that time, rather the distilleries simply made their whiskey and sold it wholesale to the Bonders. Bonders would have been jacks of all trades, the publicans, grocers, mercantile owners. They would travel to their local distillery with the empty barrels they’d have from their pub trade, fill them up with new make spirit and then cart them home and store them for ageing and blending. This business model was extremely accessible as there was no expense in building or running a distillery, which meant that there were Whiskey Bonders in every town across Ireland. Because so much of whiskey's flavour comes from the barrel in which it is aged in and from the climate where that barrel is stored, this meant that there was huge variety of regional flavours within Irish Whiskey. The Irish Whiskey industry collapsed in the early 1900's and with it came the closure of all but 4 distilleries in Ireland. Those distilleries since bought by multinational organisations have made almost all the Irish Whiskey produced ever since. They created individual whiskey brands and turned off the tap to Grocers thereby shutting down the practice of Whiskey Bonding.
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Vintage wooden clock from 1995 commissioned to mark Clare's historic All Ireland win in 1995.cm x cm Scarriff Co ClareViewed from a distance of two decades, maybe the most remarkable thing about the hurling summer of 1995 is just how unpromising it was roundly agreed to be at the get-go. The previous year had been airily dismissed as something of a freak – never more freakish than in that harum-scarum end to the All-Ireland final when Offaly overturned Limerick with a quickfire 2-5 in the closing minutes.Put to the pin of their collars, most judges shrugged and presumed the Liam MacCarthy would find his way back around to the blue-bloods in the end – probably to Kilkenny who had just beaten Clare in the National League final, maybe to Tipperary if they got their act together. If there was going to be a yarn, Limerick might provide it. But nobody had an inkling of what was around the corner. Or if they did, they weren’t shouting about it. Nobody was shouting about very much of anything. Hurling was what it was – guarded like the family jewels in certain parts of the land, barely amounting to a rumour in others. Tipp, Kilkenny and Cork had split five of the previous six All-Irelands between them and in a given year, you could just about half-rely on Offaly or Galway to keep them honest. For everyone else, the door looked shut. For all the sweet words and paeans that followed the game around, the championship was reduced each year to four or five games. This was pre-qualifiers, pre-back door of any kind. Galway walked into the All-Ireland semi-final each year and Antrim did the same before providing whoever they met with more or less a bye into the final. The Munster championship had its adherents but they weren’t all just as committed as they let on – when Clare met Cork in Thurles in June 1995, they did so in front of just 14,101 paying guests. The game needed shaking up. If not everyone admitted as much at the time, it didn’t escape the notice of the association’s then general director Liam Mulvihill. In his report to Congress earlier that year, he had scratched an itch that had been bugging him for most of the previous 12 months. The 1994 football championship had been the first to benefit from bringing on a title sponsor in Bank of Ireland and though an equivalent offer had been on the table for the hurling championship, Central Council pushed the plate away. Though the name of the potential sponsor wasn’t explicitly made public, everyone knew it was Guinness. More to the point, everyone knew why Central Council wouldn’t bite. As Mulvihill himself noted in his report to Congress, the offer was declined on the basis that “Central Council did not want an alcoholic drinks company associated with a major GAA competition”. As it turned out, Central Council had been deadlocked on the issue and it was the casting vote of then president Peter Quinn that put the kibosh on a deal with Guinness. Mulvihill’s disappointment was far from hidden, since he saw the wider damage caused by turning up the GAA nose at Guinness’s advances. “The unfortunate aspect of the situation,” he wrote, “is that hurling needs support on the promotion of the game much more than football.” Though it took the point of a bayonet to make them go for it, the GAA submitted in the end and on the day after the league final, a three-year partnership with Guinness was announced. The deal would be worth £1 million a year, with half going to the sport and half going to the competition in the shape of marketing. That last bit was key. Guinness came up with a marketing campaign that fairly scorched across the general consciousness. Billboards screeched out slogans that feel almost corny at this remove but made a huge impact at the same time . This man can level whole counties in one second flat. This man can reach speeds of 100mph. This man can break hearts at 70 yards Of course, all the marketing in the world can only do so much. Without a story to go alongside, the Guinness campaign might be forgotten now – or worse, remembered as an overblown blast of hot air dreamed up in some modish ad agency above in Dublin. Instead, Clare came along and changed everything. In the spring of 1995, Clare were very easy to stereotype. These were the days when the league wrapped around Christmas and in the muck and the cold and the drudgery, Clare had a fierceness to them that took advantage of any opposition that fancied a handy afternoon with the summer well off in the distance. A pain in the neck if you met them on a going day in the league but not to be relied upon on the biggest days. They had a recent, ill-starred record in Munster finals to bear that out. Heavy beatings from Tipp and Limerick in 1993 and ’94 were bad enough on their own; piled on decades of hurt going all the way back to their last title in 1932, they were toxic. On the day before the league final, new manager Ger Loughnane outlined what the coming summer would mean to them. “I’d swap everything for a Munster title. The whole lot. My whole hurling life. These fellas today, they have the chance. They can get out there and realise that this is what it is all about, that this is what you play hurling for. They can build on that and win their Munster title. That means so much to us all. They won’t have to look back and regret.” When Clare promptly lost 2-12 to 0-9 to Kilkenny in that league final, you didn’t have many takers for Loughnane’s assertion that this could be the group to turn everything around. Loughnane had been involved in 12 Munster finals as a player and selector at various levels down the years and he’d lost them all. Big talk was fine and dandy but what was there to believe in? Come the Munster championship, Clare were quietly but firmly dismissed by all and sundry. Cashman’s bookies in Cork priced their championship opener thus: Cork 2/5, Clare 9/4. A bar in Ennis had sent the Clare squad a cheque for £250 so they could have a pre-championship drink together. Anthony Daly took it instead and slapped it down on Clare to win the Munster championship at odds of 7/1. Anyone with half an interest in the game knows the rest. Or at least knows bits and pieces of it. That summer was a blazing one, the hottest for decades, and in the mind’s eye Clare’s summer is a jigsaw of sun-scorched fables and legends. Seanie McMahon and his broken collarbone, playing out the last 15 minutes against Cork at corner-forward. Ollie Baker’s bundled goal to win that game in injury-time. Limerick swept aside in the second half of the Munster final. Bonfires across the county on the Monday night. Galway put to the sword in the All-Ireland semi-final. Offaly just squeezed out in the final. Eamonn Taaffe’s goal, whipped to the net with his only touch of the sliotar all summer. Daly’s 65, Johnny Pilkington’s reply just flicking the post and missing. A first Clare All-Ireland senior title since 1914. It was all just so unlikely. After the Cork game, the cars heading home for Clare were stuck in traffic. A group of Cork teenagers stood at the side of the road as they passed, chanting Tipp, Tipp, Tipp – presuming Clare would meet and be beaten by them next day out. The notion that this was the beginning of a golden era, or that these Claremen were about to popularise the sport as never before, would still have felt ludicrous And yet here they were, All-Ireland champions in a year when hurling caught the wider imagination in a way it rarely had up to that point. The Guinness campaign had made its mark and allied to Clare’s rise, the sport was grabbing people again. Not before time. “The game had gone stale,” wrote Jimmy Barry-Murphy in The Irish Times in the run-up to the final. “This All-Ireland was one that game needed very badly. Interest was waning and this was reflected in the attendances at finals. “There was no comparison to football where the arrival of the Ulster counties as major powers generated enormous interest and a new awareness of the game. Clare have had many setbacks but they have kept battling and are now being rewarded. They have done hurling a great service.” The depth and breadth of that service became more and more apparent as the decade wore on. Attendances at the hurling championship matches ballooned. From an aggregate total of 289,281 in 1994, they rose to 543,335 in 1999. There were plenty of factors, of course – more counties with more hope, more matches with the introduction of the back-door, a growing economy, those Guinness ads. But it was Clare’s summer of 1995 that sparked it all. They weren’t a pebble in a pond that caused a few ripples. They were a boulder that landed from the clear blue sky and left a crater on the landscape. Everything changed after ’95. Not forever, just for a while. But for long enough for the game to stretch itself and grab hold of imaginations outside the usual places of worship. On the Monday night they brought Liam MacCarthy home, one of the towns that got a good rattle was Newmarket-On-Fergus. In the bedlam, the home club put up a stage and stuck any living Newmarket man who ever put on a Clare jersey up there as the backdrop while Daly and Loughnane grabbed the mic out front. One unusual face cloistered at the back of the stage was then Wexford manager Liam Griffin. Of the multitude of stories excavated by Denis Walsh for his towering book Hurling: The Revolution Years, maybe that night in Newmarket captured the giddiness of the time the best. Griffin’s father was from Clare and he’d lived there for a time in his early 20s, long enough to play club hurling and get called up to the Clare under-21s. Thus were his bona fides established for an appearance – however reluctant – up on-stage. Griffin had been in charge of Wexford for a year at that point and their summer had ended with a limp exit against Offaly away back in June. By the skin of his teeth, Griffin had survived an attempted county board putsch in the meantime and was almost certainly the only man alive who thought that the riches showering down upon Clare heads could be Wexford’s 12 months later. “Clare came and I thought, ‘This is fantastic,’” Griffin told Walsh. “I thought, ‘Jesus, the team I have are as good as these,’ and I went through them man for man. There’s no way we’re not as good as these guys. Then Clare won the All-Ireland and I went straight to Clare the following morning because I wanted to see the homecoming and now I understand why. I wanted to drive it into my own psyche.” As the speeches finished and the stage began to clear, Loughnane turned and caught Griffin’s eye. “It could be you next year,” he said. Whether he meant it or not, Griffin’s mind was made up already. He drove home convinced that Wexford could reach out and grab some of that for themselves. The next day he rang around and organised training, 51-and-a-half weeks shy of the 1996 All-Ireland final. In a world of endless trees and branches and roots, it’s obviously simplistic to say that Clare’s All-Ireland begat Wexford’s which begat all the rest of it. But what is inarguable is this – in that sun-drenched summer of 1995, everything felt possible. -
63cm x 125cm Limerick Large iconic poster from the glory years of Munster rugby ,when they were at the top of the tree in European Club Rugby.This particular promotional poster dates from the 2000 Final,Munster's first final appearance. Northampton 9-8 Munster Despite thunder, lightning, and torrential rain earlier in the morning, the sun rightly appeared to shine on the capacity crowd at Twickenham for what proved to be a magnificent occasion. It was the fifth European Cup final, and the first time a French side had not featured, but the lack of Gallic flair took nothing away from a thrilling match. Munster scored the only try of the match - but in a tale of two boots, Northampton secured a historic victory thanks to the ever-prolific Paul Grayson.
He scored three penalty goals - while his counterpart, the young Ronan O'Gara missed four kicks out of four, including one just a minute from time. After his side's win, Saints' rugby director, John Steele, said: "We were very positive all week. This has been a big season for the players and to have come this close and not won a trophy would have been a major disappointment. "I felt we deserved our victory today - it is fantastic. I think people perceived that we would play like a tired side and maybe it took Munster aback that we weren't the war-weary team many people thought." The power of the Northampton pack was evident from the start, and when Munster gave away a penalty in front of the posts, Grayson gave Saints the lead within two minutes.
This has been a big season for the players and to have come this close and not won a trophy would have been a major disappointment
Northampton rugby director John Steele
The Irish side struggled to get any of the ball in the opening ten minutes, and they were lucky to keep the deficit to just three points. A handling error from winger Ben Cohen denied Northampton a try yards from the line, and sensing their luck, Munster picked up the pace and put together a kick and chase - allowing Jason Holland to level the score with a drop goal. Having started slugglishly, Munster began to play with more sharpness, and it was soon Northampton who found themselves having to clear within their own 22. A strong wind, was whistling its way through the West London ground, favouring Saints during the first half. Saints' captain Pat Lam was a man inspired, charging through tackle after tackle, but Northampton were let down by poor passes in promising positions. This gave Declan Kidney's side hope, and the Irish contingent were sent into raptures when a series of quick, accurate passes allowed David Wallace to score the only try of the match on 33 minutes.
A young Munster fan celebrates his side's try
Ronan O'Gara found the kick too testing and Munster had to be satisfied with a five-point lead. Northampton, who have played outstanding rugby all season, were only able to add three points to their score before the interval - Grayson slotting an easy penalty. O'Gara on the other hand missed an opportunity to add to the Munster lead - missing a late penalty. Irish skipper Keith Wood, made Munster's intentions clear from the re-start, taking a brilliant catch and following it with a stunning 40 yard run. But, before the Irish were able to capitalise, Saints' scrum-half Dom Malone, intercepted and took the ball upfield. The initiative finally swung Northampton's way, when Grayson scored his third penalty to put Saints into a one-point lead. Rare opportunity Munster squandered a rare opportunity to go back into the lead when they opted to put the ball into touch instead of kicking a penalty. Having won the line-out however, the forwards were unable to make any headway against the immovable Northampton pack. Minutes later, another chance went begging when O'Gara missed his third kick of the match. Munster were beginning to dominate in terms of possession but were finding it impossible to tranform their advantage into points. They suffered a further blow when captain Mick Galwey was sin-binned for failing to allow Saints to take a quick penalty. With just seven minutes to go, Grayson surprised everyone by missing a simple kick. But he had done enough to secure the victory Northampton's performances this season so richly deserved. Teams: Northampton: Grayson, Moir, Bateman, Allen, Cohen, A. Hepher, Malone, Pagel, Mendez, Stewart, Newman, Rodber, MacKinnon, Pountney, Lam. Replacements: Bramhall, Tucker, Northey, Walter, Scelzo, Metcalfe, Phillips. Munster: Crotty, Kelly, Mullins, Holland, Horgan, O'Gara, Stringer, Clohessy, Wood, Hayes, Galwey, Langford, E. Halvey, Wallace, Foley. Replacements: O'Neill, Keane, Tierney, Quinlan, O'Callaghan, Sheahan, Horan. Referee: Joel Dume (Franc
Both teams found it hard to break each other down -
35cm x 45cm. Dublin Extraordinary moment captured in time as a seemingly cordial Eamon De Valera & Michael Collins plus Arthur Griffith and Lord Mayor of Dublin Laurence O'Neill enjoying each others company at Croke Park for the April 6, 1919 Irish Republican Prisoners' Dependents Fund match between Wexford and Tipperary. Staging Gaelic matches for the benefit of the republican prisoners was one of the ways in which the GAA supported the nationalist struggle. How so much would change between those two behemoths of Irish History-Collins and De Valera over the next number of years. -
35cm x 45cm. Dublin Famous b&w photo of Michael Collins about to throw in the sliotar to start the 1921 Leinster hurling final. Dublin (4-04) beat Kilkenny (1-05) in this provincial final which was played in Croke Park on the September 11, 1921. -
29cm x 36cm. Dublin Famous picture during The Greatest's visit to Ireland of Muhammad Ali play fighting with two members of An Garda Siochana.Some memory for those officers to tell their grandchildren about ! July 19, 1972, Muhammad Ali fought Al 'Blue' Lewis at Croke Park in Dublin, causing quite a stir in Ireland.Decades later, an Irish documentary recounting the epic fight not only won awards but also won the approval of Ali's daughter Jamilah Ali. "When Ali Came to Ireland" is an Irish documentary that details Muhammad Ali's trip to Dublin for a fight against Al 'Blue' Lewis at Croke Park. In 2013 the film was screened at the Chicago film festival, where Jamilah Ali was in attendance. TheJournal.ie reported that following the screening, Jamilah said "I've seen so much footage of my father over the years but the amazing thing about watching this film was that I had seen none of the footage of him in Ireland... I loved the film from the beginning to the end." The film highlights a moment in Ali's career where he was set to stage a world comeback. He had been recently released from prison after refusing to join the Vietnam War as a conscientious objector. His opponent Al Lewis had also just been released on parole after serving time in Detroit for a murder charge, and he intended to use his boxing career as "a path to a new life." The movie that won an IFTA in 2013 documents the spectacle in Croke Park, Ali's presence in Ireland and how the public reacted to his being there. It also demonstrates how Ali came to be in Dublin for a fight in the first place, highlighting the involvement of "former Kerry strongman"Michael "Butty" Sugrue. Sugrue's story also proved to be revelatory to his family- in a quote from Ross Whittaker, co-director of the film, he speaks about how Sugrue's grandchildren had never had the chance to meet him. "We were amazed when we screened the film in London to find that Butty Sugrue's granddaughters had never heard their grandfather speak. He had died before they were born and they'd never seen footage of him in which he had spoken." After their 1972 meeting, however, Sugrue and Ali's fortunes took two divergent paths. Ali returned to the ring in America to further glories and fanfare before his retirement, while Sugrue lost a small fortune on the Dublin fight and after dying in London was laid to rest in an unmarked grave in his hometown of Killorglin, Co Kerry. The Louisville Lip was also incredibly proud of his County Clare roots. Today we recall the man's star quality and his Irish ancestry. The death of boxing legend Muhammad Ali at 74 in June 2016, from Parkinson’s, would have brought back many glorious memories of the greatest athlete of our times. At the height of his career, Ali was the most graceful, talented, and brilliant heavyweight boxer who ever stepped inside the ropes. I remember seeing him enter the room at the American Ireland Fund dinner in 2011 and grown men, including the Irish leader Enda Kenny, were simply awestruck that they were in the presence of the greatest living legend. Ali was more than a boxer, of course, he was a fighter who refused to become cannon fodder in the Vietnam War, the greatest mistaken war America entered until the invasion of Iraq. He was also a poet, a showman, a lover of many women, a devout Muslim, and simply a legend. Ali's stance to end the Vietnam War when he refused to be drafted cost us the best years of his sporting life. He came back still a brilliant boxer, but the man who could float like a butterfly could never quite recover that greatness. Still, the fights with Joe Frazier, the rope-a-dope that saw him defeat George Foreman in Zaire in the "Rumble in the Jungle" will forever enshrine his name in history.Muhammad Ali's Irish roots explained
The astonishing fact that he had Irish roots, being descended from Abe Grady, an Irishman from Ennis, County Clare, only became known later in life. He returned to Ireland where he had fought and defeated Al “Blue” Lewis in Croke Park in 1972 almost seven years ago in 2009 to help raise money for his non–profit Muhammad Ali Center, a cultural and educational center in Louisville, Kentucky, and other hospices. He was also there to become the first Freeman of the town. The boxing great is no stranger to Irish shores and previously made a famous trip to Ireland in 1972 when he sat down with Cathal O’Shannon of RTE for a fascinating television interview. What’s more, genealogist Antoinette O'Brien discovered that one of Ali’s great-grandfathers emigrated to the United States from County Clare, meaning that the three-time heavyweight world champion joins the likes of President Obama and Professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. as prominent African-Americans with Irish heritage. In the 1860s, Abe Grady left Ennis in County Clare to start a new life in America. He would make his home in Kentucky and marry a free African-American woman. The couple started a family, and one of their daughters was Odessa Lee Grady. Odessa met and married Cassius Clay, Sr. and on January 17, 1942, Cassius junior was born. Cassius Clay changed his name to Muhammad Ali when he became a Muslim in 1964. Ali, an Olympic gold medalist at the 1960 games in Rome, has been suffering from Parkinson's for some years but was committed to raising funds for his center During his visit to Clare, he was mobbed by tens of thousands of locals who turned out to meet him and show him the area where his great-grandfather came from.Tracing Muhammad Ali's roots back to County Clare
Historian Dick Eastman had traced Ali’s roots back to Abe Grady the Clare emigrant to Kentucky and the freed slave he married. Eastman wrote: “An 1855 land survey of Ennis, a town in County Clare, Ireland, contains a reference to John Grady, who was renting a house in Turnpike Road in the center of the town. His rent payment was fifteen shillings a month. A few years later, his son Abe Grady immigrated to the United States. He settled in Kentucky." Also, around the year 1855, a man and a woman who were both freed slaves, originally from Liberia, purchased land in or around Duck Lick Creek, Logan, Kentucky. The two married, raised a family and farmed the land. These free blacks went by the name, Morehead, the name of white slave owners of the area. Odessa Grady Clay, Cassius Clay's mother, was the great-granddaughter of the freed slave Tom Morehead and of John Grady of Ennis, whose son Abe had emigrated from Ireland to the United States. She named her son Cassius in honor of a famous Kentucky abolitionist of that time. When he changed his name to Muhammad Ali in 1964, the famous boxer remarked, "Why should I keep my white slavemaster name visible and my black ancestors invisible, unknown, unhonored?" Ali was not only the greatest sporting figure, but he was also the best-known person in the world at his height, revered from Africa to Asia and all over the world. To the end, he was a battler, shown rare courage fighting Parkinson’s Disease, and surviving far longer than most sufferers from the disease. -
There are many chapters in Munster’s storied rugby journey but pride of place remains the game against the otherwise unbeaten New Zealanders on October 31, 1978. 40cm x 30cm There were some mighty matches between the Kiwis and Munster, most notably at the Mardyke in 1954 when the tourists edged home by 6-3 and again by the same margin at Thomond Park in 1963 while the teams also played a 3-3 draw at Musgrave Park in 1973. During that time, they resisted the best that Ireland, Ulster and Leinster (admittedly with fewer opportunities) could throw at them so this country was still waiting for any team to put one over on the All Blacks when Graham Mourie’s men arrived in Limerick on October 31st, 1978. There is always hope but in truth Munster supporters had little else to encourage them as the fateful day dawned. Whereas the New Zealanders had disposed of Cambridge University, Cardiff, West Wales and London Counties with comparative ease, Munster’s preparations had been confined to a couple of games in London where their level of performance, to put it mildly, was a long way short of what would be required to enjoy even a degree of respectability against the All Blacks. They were hammered by Middlesex County and scraped a draw with London Irish. Ever before those two games, things hadn’t been going according to plan. Tom Kiernan had coached Munster for three seasons in the mid-70s before being appointed Branch President, a role he duly completed at the end of the 1977/78 season. However, when coach Des Barry resigned for personal reasons, Munster turned once again to Kiernan. Being the great Munster man that he was and remains, Tom was happy to oblige although as an extremely shrewd observer of the game, one also suspected that he spotted something special in this group of players that had escaped most peoples’ attention. He refused to be dismayed by what he saw in the games in London, instead regarding them as crucial in the build-up to the All Blacks encounter. He was, in fact, ahead of his time, as he laid his hands on video footage of the All Blacks games, something unheard of back in those days, nor was he averse to the idea of making changes in key positions. A major case in point was the introduction of London Irish loose-head prop Les White of whom little was known in Munster rugby circles but who convinced the coaching team he was the ideal man to fill a troublesome position. Kiernan was also being confronted by many other difficult issues. The team he envisaged taking the field against the tourists was composed of six players (Larry Moloney, Seamus Dennison, Gerry McLoughlin, Pat Whelan, Brendan Foley and Colm Tucker) based in Limerick, four (Greg Barrett, Jimmy Bowen, Moss Finn and Christy Cantillon) in Cork, four more (Donal Canniffe, Tony Ward, Moss Keane and Donal Spring) in Dublin and Les White who, according to Keane, “hailed from somewhere in England, at that time nobody knew where”. Always bearing in mind that the game then was totally amateur and these guys worked for a living, for most people it would have been impossible to bring them all together on a regular basis for six weeks before the match. But the level of respect for Kiernan was so immense that the group would have walked on the proverbial bed of nails for him if he so requested. So they turned up every Wednesday in Fermoy — a kind of halfway house for the guys travelling from three different locations and over appreciable distances. Those sessions helped to forge a wonderful team spirit. After all, guys who had been slogging away at work only a short few hours previously would hardly make that kind of sacrifice unless they meant business. October 31, 1978 dawned wet and windy, prompting hope among the faithful that the conditions would suit Munster who could indulge in their traditional approach sometimes described rather vulgarly as “boot, bite and bollock” and, who knows, with the fanatical Thomond Park crowd cheering them on, anything could happen. Ironically, though, the wind and rain had given way to a clear, blue sky and altogether perfect conditions in good time for the kick-off. Surely, now, that was Munster’s last hope gone — but that didn’t deter more than 12,000 fans from making their way to Thomond Park and somehow finding a spot to view the action. The vantage points included hundreds seated on the 20-foot high boundary wall, others perched on the towering trees immediately outside the ground and some even watched from the windows of houses at the Ballynanty end that have since been demolished. The atmosphere was absolutely electric as the teams took the field, the All Blacks performed the Haka and the Welsh referee Corris Thomas got things under way. The first few skirmishes saw the teams sizing each other up before an incident that was to be recorded in song and story occurred, described here — with just the slightest touch of hyperbole! — by Terry McLean in his book ‘Mourie’s All Blacks’. “In only the fifth minute, Seamus Dennison, him the fellow that bore the number 13 jersey in the centre, was knocked down in a tackle. He came from the Garryowen club which might explain his subsequent actions — to join that club, so it has been said, one must walk barefooted over broken glass, charge naked through searing fires, run the severest gauntlets and, as a final test of manhood, prepare with unfaltering gaze to make a catch of the highest ball ever kicked while aware that at least eight thundering members of your own team are about to knock you down, trample all over you and into the bargain hiss nasty words at you because you forgot to cry out ‘Mark’. Moss Keane recalled the incident: “It was the hardest tackle I have ever seen and lifted the whole team. That was the moment we knew we could win the game.” Kiernan also acknowledged the importance of “The Tackle”.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.He said: “Tackling is as integral a part of rugby as is a majestic centre three-quarter break. There were two noteworthy tackles during the match by Seamus Dennison. He was injured in the first and I thought he might have to come off. But he repeated the tackle some minutes later.”“Jack’s comment was made in the context of the game and meant as a compliment,” Haden maintained. “Indeed, it was probably a little suggestion to his own side that perhaps we should imitate their efforts and emulate them in that department.” Tom Kiernan went along with this line of thought: “I thought he was actually paying a compliment to the Munster spirit. Kamikaze pilots were very brave men. That’s what I took out of that. I didn’t think it was a criticism of Munster.” And Stuart Wilson? “It was meant purely as a compliment. We had been travelling through the UK and winning all our games. We were playing a nice, open style. But we had never met a team that could get up in our faces and tackle us off the field. Every time you got the ball, you didn’t get one player tackling you, you got four. Kamikaze means people are willing to die for the cause and that was the way with every Munster man that day. Their strengths were that they were playing for Munster, that they had a home Thomond Park crowd and they took strength from the fact they were playing one of the best teams in the world.” You could rely on Terry McLean (famed New Zealand journalist) to be fair and sporting in his reaction to the Thomond Park defeat. Unlike Kiernan and Haden, he scorned Jack Gleeson’s “kamikaze” comment, stating that “it was a stern, severe criticism which wanted in fairness on two grounds. It did not sufficiently praise the spirit of Munster or the presence within the one team of 15 men who each emerged from the match much larger than life-size. Secondly, it was disingenuous or, more accurately, naive.” “Gleeson thought it sinful that Ward had not once passed the ball. It was worse, he said, that Munster had made aggressive defence the only arm of their attack. Now, what on earth, it could be asked, was Kiernan to do with his team? He held a fine hand with top trumps in Spring, Cantillon, Foley and Whelan in the forwards and Canniffe, Ward, Dennison, Bowen and Moloney in the backs. Tommy Kiernan wasn’t born yesterday. He played to the strength of his team and upon the suspected weaknesses of the All Blacks.” You could hardly be fairer than that – even if Graham Mourie himself in his 1983 autobiography wasn’t far behind when observing: “Munster were just too good. From the first time Stu Wilson was crashed to the ground as he entered the back line to the last time Mark Donaldson was thrown backwards as he ducked around the side of a maul. They were too good.” One of the nicest tributes of all came from a famous New Zealand photographer, Peter Bush. He covered numerous All Black tours, was close friends with most of their players and a canny one when it came to finding the ideal position from which to snap his pictures. He was the guy perched precariously on the pillars at the entrance to the pitch as the celebrations went on and which he described 20 years later in his book ‘Who Said It’s Only a Game?’And Tom Kiernan and Andy Haden, rugby standard bearers of which their respective countries were justifiably proud, saw things in a similar light.“With that, he flung his arms around me and dragged me with him into the shower. I finally managed to disentangle myself and killed the tape. I didn’t mind really because it had been a wonderful day.” Dimensions :47cm x 57cm“I climbed up on a gate at the end of the game to get this photo and in the middle of it all is Moss Keane, one of the great characters of Irish rugby, with an expression of absolute elation. The All Blacks lost 12-0 to a side that played with as much passion as I have ever seen on a rugby field. The great New Zealand prop Gary Knight said to me later: ‘We could have played them for a fortnight and we still wouldn’t have won’. I was doing a little radio piece after the game and got hold of Moss Keane and said ‘Moss, I wonder if ...’ and he said, ‘ho, ho, we beat you bastards’. -
40cm x 34cm July 19, 1972, Muhammad Ali fought Al 'Blue' Lewis at Croke Park in Dublin, causing quite a stir in Ireland.Decades later, an Irish documentary recounting the epic fight not only won awards but also won the approval of Ali's daughter Jamilah Ali. "When Ali Came to Ireland" is an Irish documentary that details Muhammad Ali's trip to Dublin for a fight against Al 'Blue' Lewis at Croke Park. In 2013 the film was screened at the Chicago film festival, where Jamilah Ali was in attendance. TheJournal.ie reported that following the screening, Jamilah said "I've seen so much footage of my father over the years but the amazing thing about watching this film was that I had seen none of the footage of him in Ireland... I loved the film from the beginning to the end." The film highlights a moment in Ali's career where he was set to stage a world comeback. He had been recently released from prison after refusing to join the Vietnam War as a conscientious objector. His opponent Al Lewis had also just been released on parole after serving time in Detroit for a murder charge, and he intended to use his boxing career as "a path to a new life." The movie that won an IFTA in 2013 documents the spectacle in Croke Park, Ali's presence in Ireland and how the public reacted to his being there. It also demonstrates how Ali came to be in Dublin for a fight in the first place, highlighting the involvement of "former Kerry strongman"Michael "Butty" Sugrue. Sugrue's story also proved to be revelatory to his family- in a quote from Ross Whittaker, co-director of the film, he speaks about how Sugrue's grandchildren had never had the chance to meet him. "We were amazed when we screened the film in London to find that Butty Sugrue's granddaughters had never heard their grandfather speak. He had died before they were born and they'd never seen footage of him in which he had spoken." After their 1972 meeting, however, Sugrue and Ali's fortunes took two divergent paths. Ali returned to the ring in America to further glories and fanfare before his retirement, while Sugrue lost a small fortune on the Dublin fight and after dying in London was laid to rest in an unmarked grave in his hometown of Killorglin, Co Kerry. The Louisville Lip was also incredibly proud of his County Clare roots. Today we recall the man's star quality and his Irish ancestry. The death of boxing legend Muhammad Ali at 74 in June 2016, from Parkinson’s, would have brought back many glorious memories of the greatest athlete of our times. At the height of his career, Ali was the most graceful, talented, and brilliant heavyweight boxer who ever stepped inside the ropes. I remember seeing him enter the room at the American Ireland Fund dinner in 2011 and grown men, including the Irish leader Enda Kenny, were simply awestruck that they were in the presence of the greatest living legend. Ali was more than a boxer, of course, he was a fighter who refused to become cannon fodder in the Vietnam War, the greatest mistaken war America entered until the invasion of Iraq. He was also a poet, a showman, a lover of many women, a devout Muslim, and simply a legend. Ali's stance to end the Vietnam War when he refused to be drafted cost us the best years of his sporting life. He came back still a brilliant boxer, but the man who could float like a butterfly could never quite recover that greatness. Still, the fights with Joe Frazier, the rope-a-dope that saw him defeat George Foreman in Zaire in the "Rumble in the Jungle" will forever enshrine his name in history.Muhammad Ali's Irish roots explained
The astonishing fact that he had Irish roots, being descended from Abe Grady, an Irishman from Ennis, County Clare, only became known later in life. He returned to Ireland where he had fought and defeated Al “Blue” Lewis in Croke Park in 1972 almost seven years ago in 2009 to help raise money for his non–profit Muhammad Ali Center, a cultural and educational center in Louisville, Kentucky, and other hospices. He was also there to become the first Freeman of the town. The boxing great is no stranger to Irish shores and previously made a famous trip to Ireland in 1972 when he sat down with Cathal O’Shannon of RTE for a fascinating television interview. What’s more, genealogist Antoinette O'Brien discovered that one of Ali’s great-grandfathers emigrated to the United States from County Clare, meaning that the three-time heavyweight world champion joins the likes of President Obama and Professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. as prominent African-Americans with Irish heritage. In the 1860s, Abe Grady left Ennis in County Clare to start a new life in America. He would make his home in Kentucky and marry a free African-American woman. The couple started a family, and one of their daughters was Odessa Lee Grady. Odessa met and married Cassius Clay, Sr. and on January 17, 1942, Cassius junior was born. Cassius Clay changed his name to Muhammad Ali when he became a Muslim in 1964. Ali, an Olympic gold medalist at the 1960 games in Rome, has been suffering from Parkinson's for some years but was committed to raising funds for his center During his visit to Clare, he was mobbed by tens of thousands of locals who turned out to meet him and show him the area where his great-grandfather came from.Tracing Muhammad Ali's roots back to County Clare
Historian Dick Eastman had traced Ali’s roots back to Abe Grady the Clare emigrant to Kentucky and the freed slave he married. Eastman wrote: “An 1855 land survey of Ennis, a town in County Clare, Ireland, contains a reference to John Grady, who was renting a house in Turnpike Road in the center of the town. His rent payment was fifteen shillings a month. A few years later, his son Abe Grady immigrated to the United States. He settled in Kentucky." Also, around the year 1855, a man and a woman who were both freed slaves, originally from Liberia, purchased land in or around Duck Lick Creek, Logan, Kentucky. The two married, raised a family and farmed the land. These free blacks went by the name, Morehead, the name of white slave owners of the area. Odessa Grady Clay, Cassius Clay's mother, was the great-granddaughter of the freed slave Tom Morehead and of John Grady of Ennis, whose son Abe had emigrated from Ireland to the United States. She named her son Cassius in honor of a famous Kentucky abolitionist of that time. When he changed his name to Muhammad Ali in 1964, the famous boxer remarked, "Why should I keep my white slavemaster name visible and my black ancestors invisible, unknown, unhonored?" Ali was not only the greatest sporting figure, but he was also the best-known person in the world at his height, revered from Africa to Asia and all over the world. To the end, he was a battler, shown rare courage fighting Parkinson’s Disease, and surviving far longer than most sufferers from the disease.
He was the third leader of Fianna Fáil from 1966 until 1979, succeeding the hugely influential Seán Lemass. Lynch was the last Fianna Fáil leader to secure (in 1977) an overall majority in the Dáil for his party. Historian and journalist T. Ryle Dwyer has called him "the most popular Irish politician since Daniel O'Connell." Before his political career Lynch had a successful sporting career as a dual player of Gaelic games. He played hurlingwith his local club Glen Rovers and with the Cork senior inter-county team from 1936 until 1950. Lynch also played Gaelic football with his local club St Nicholas' and with the Cork senior inter-county team from 1936 until 1946. In a senior inter-county hurling career that lasted for fourteen years he won five All-Ireland titles, seven Munster titles, three National Hurling League titles and seven Railway Cup titles. In a senior inter-county football career that lasted for ten years Lynch won one All-Ireland title, two Munster titles and one Railway Cup title. Lynch was later named at midfield on the Hurling Team of the Century and the Hurling Team of the MillenniumJohn Mary Lynch (15 August 1917 – 20 October 1999), known as Jack Lynch, was an Irish Fianna Fáil politician who served as Taoiseach from 1966 to 1973 and 1977 to 1979, Leader of Fianna Fáil from 1966 to 1979, Leader of the Opposition from 1973 to 1977, Minister for Finance from 1965 to 1966, Minister for Industry and Commerce from 1959 to 1965, Minister for Education 1957 to 1959, Minister for the Gaeltacht from March 1957 to June 1957, Parliamentary Secretary to the Minister for Lands and Parliamentary Secretary to the Government from 1951 to 1954. He served as a Teachta Dála (TD) from 1948 to 1981. -
45cm x 34cm Aer Lingus was founded on 15 April 1936, with a capital of £100,000. Its first chairman was Seán Ó hUadhaigh.Pending legislation for Government investment through a parent company, Aer Lingus was associated with Blackpool and West Coast Air Services which advanced the money for the first aircraft, and operated with Aer Lingus under the common title "Irish Sea Airways". Aer Lingus Teoranta was registered as an airline on 22 May 1936.The name Aer Lingus was proposed by Richard F O'Connor, who was County Cork Surveyor, as well as an aviation enthusiast.On 27 May 1936, five days after being registered as an airline, its first service began between Baldonnel Airfield in Dublin and Bristol (Whitchurch) Airport, the United Kingdom, using a six-seater de Havilland DH.84 Dragon biplane (registration EI-ABI), named Iolar (Eagle). Later that year, the airline acquired its second aircraft, a four-engined biplane de Havilland DH.86 Express named "Éire", with a capacity of 14 passengers. This aircraft provided the first air link between Dublin and London by extending the Bristol service to Croydon. At the same time, the DH.84 Dragon was used to inaugurate an Aer Lingus service on the Dublin-Liverpool route. The airline was established as the national carrier under the Air Navigation and Transport Act (1936). In 1937, the Irish government created Aer Rianta (now called Dublin Airport Authority), a company to assume financial responsibility for the new airline and the entire country's civil aviation infrastructure. In April 1937, Aer Lingus became wholly owned by the Irish government via Aer Rianta. The airline's first General Manager was Dr J.F. (Jeremiah known as 'Jerry') Dempsey, a chartered accountant, who joined the company on secondment from Kennedy Crowley & Co (predecessor to KPMG as Company Secretary in 1936 (aged 30) and was appointed to the role of General Manager in 1937. He retired 30 years later in 1967 at the age of 60. In 1938, a de Havilland DH.89 Dragon Rapide replaced Iolar, and the company purchased a second DH.86B. Two Lockheed 14s arrived in 1939, Aer Lingus' first all-metal aircraft.
A DH.84 Dragon, repainted in the livery of Aer Lingus' original aircraft "Iolar".In January 1940, a new airport opened in the Dublin suburb of Collinstown and Aer Lingus moved its operations there. It purchased a new DC-3 and inaugurated new services to Liverpool and an internal service to Shannon. The airline's services were curtailed during World War II with the sole route being to Liverpool or Barton Aerodrome Manchester depending on the fluctuating security situation.
An Aer Lingus Douglas DC-3 at Manchester Airport in 1948 wearing the first postwar livery.Post-war expansion
On 9 November 1945, regular services were resumed with an inaugural flight to London. From this point Aer Lingus aircraft, initially mostly Douglas DC-3s, were painted in a silver and green livery. The airline introduced its first flight attendants. In 1946, a new Anglo-Irish agreement gave Aer Lingus exclusive UK traffic rights from Ireland in exchange for a 40% holding by British Overseas Airways Corporation (BOAC) and British European Airways (BEA). Because of Aer Lingus' growth the airline bought seven new Vickers Viking aircraft in 1947, however, these proved to be uneconomical and were soon sold.In 1947, Aerlínte Éireann came into existence to operate transatlantic flights to New York City from Ireland. The airline ordered five new Lockheed L-749 Constellations, but a change of government and a financial crisis prevented the service from starting. John A Costello, the incoming Fine Gael Taoiseach (Prime Minister), was not a keen supporter of air travel and thought that flying the Atlantic was too grandiose a scheme for a small airline from a small country like Ireland.
A Bristol 170 Freighter at Manchester Airport in 1953.During the late 1940s and early 1950s, Aer Lingus introduced routes to Brussels, Amsterdam via Manchester and to Rome. Because of the expanding route structure, the airline became one of the early purchasers of Vickers Viscount 700s in 1951, which were placed in service in April 1954. In 1952, the airline expanded its all-freight services and acquired a small fleet of Bristol 170 Freighters, which remained in service until 1957. Prof. Patrick Lynch was appointed the chairman of Aer Lingus and Aer Rianta in 1954 and served in the position until 1975. In 1956, Aer Lingus introduced a new, green-top livery with a white lightning flash down the windows and the Irish flag displayed on the fin.
A Vickers Viscount 808 in "green top" livery at Manchester Airport in 1963.First transatlantic service
On 28 April 1958, Aerlínte Éireann operated its first transatlantic service from Shannon to New York.In 1960, Aerlínte Éireann was renamed Aer Lingus. Aer Lingus bought seven Fokker F27 Friendships, which were delivered between November 1958 and May 1959. These were used in short-haul services to the UK, gradually replacing the Dakotas, until Aer Lingus replaced them in 1966 with secondhand Viscount 800s. The airline entered the jet age on 14 December 1960 when it received three Boeing 720 for use on the New York route and the newest Aer Lingus destination Boston. In 1963, Aer Lingus added Aviation Traders Carvairs to the fleet. These aircraft could transport five cars which were loaded into the fuselage through the nose of the aircraft. The Carvair proved to be uneconomical for the airline partly due to the rise of auto ferry services, and the aircraft were used for freight services until disposed of. The Boeing 720s proved to be a success for the airline on the transatlantic routes. To supplement these, Aer Lingus took delivery of its first larger Boeing 707 in 1964, and the type continued to serve the airline until 1986.
A Boeing 720 in Aer Lingus-Irish International livery in 1965.Jet aircraft
Conversion of the European fleet to jet equipment began in 1965 when the BAC One-Eleven started services on continental Europe.The airline adopted a new livery in the same year, with a large green shamrock on the fin. In 1966, the remainder of the company's shares held by Aer Rianta were transferred to the Minister for Finance.
A Fokker F27 Friendship at Manchester Airport in 1965. The F27 was used on short-haul services between 1958 and 1966.In 1966, the company added routes to Montreal and Chicago. In 1968, flights from Belfast, in Northern Ireland, to New York City started, however, it was soon suspended due to the beginning of the Troubles.Aer Lingus introduced Boeing 737s to its fleet in 1969 to cope with the high demand for flights between Dublin and London. Later, Aer Lingus extended the 737 flights to all of its European networks. In 1967, after 30 years of service, General Manager Dr J.F. Dempsey signed the contract for the airline's first two Boeing 747 aircraft before he retired later that year.
An Aviation Traders Carvair that was used as a vehicle freighter is seen loading a car at Bristol Airport in 1964.
