MEMORIES OF A CULBAIRE

In the beginning, there was hurling. You could not escape it in our house. I remember my father coming home from a match, saying that Johnny Ryan had been injured that day against, I suppose, Sarsfields. The word "Killarney" was heard, and remembered; so was the spread of fifteen indivudual photos on the "Star" after the 1937 final. Childish fingers turned the pages of a scrapbook. Hurling pictures — Cork and Galway, Sean Og, Jim Hurley, Mickey Leahy of Boherlahan playing for Cork. I was fated to play for Blackrock, as he did, and to know Jim Hurley, UCC bursar and Sean Oge as Cork's secretary. Odd how things work out.

Naturally, there had to be hurleys. The first ones, probably those made by my uncle, Paddy Fanning of Lisdonowley, Moyne; another by Paddy Buckley of Graigue, who worked for us. We heard about the "Captain", Tom O'Grady of Archerstown and the American Invasion of 1888; and of the way my father and his brothers used to hurl with the Graigue lads, the Taylors and the Moloneys. "Out in Moloney's" became the phrase for a ball driven over the ditch. The nearest Moycarkey-Borris hurler to us was "Clohogue", Jimmy Maher. When he came to the threshings I looked at him as someone rather special. Down towards Turtulla were the Grants; Jack, Dick and Gerry were spoken of as hurlers. In the talk around the table or the fire names were named — Phil Purcell, Phil Cahill, Johnny Leahy; one began to see that hurling mattered and hurlers were admirable people. The infection was caught and has never, thank God, been lost.

Sponge balls began to fly around the yard. The dairy door made a goal to be guarded; the yard gate supplied the other. The ball didn't always obey intention — one of my wildest swings flew through the kitchen door and broke the glass where the family names were dedicated to the Sacred Heart. Next stage was to go across the fence to Stokes field. In the summer evenings, hours of hurling were done with teams made up, and stones for the goals. Nicholas and Pat represeflted ,players used to come down from the Graigue side, Davy Ryan and company

It wasn't only boys; Nan Callanan (Mrs (Benny Coen) and Kitty Grant were able to pull as hard as anyone; "Kit" later

1 seem to have been mainly a goalkeeper from the start, maybe of the of the participants. we did no school hurling in primary at CBS, but on going into secondary there were leagues formed for games day and for Saturday. Pictures on the walls of Harty and Dean Ryan winners were studied with awe. The nearest I had to playing in a proper match before school games was one day a sort of challenge was fixed with the Holycross lads. Danny Ryan of Knockroe carried me there on the back of his bicycle, but when they were choosing a team 1 was discarded as too young; the same day the Graigue juniors played too.

The first official game I ever played in was a Croke match in Borrisoleigh; By the time I came to intermediate, my place had become fairly secure on all available teams. We won a Dean Ryan in Dungarvan with players like Paddy Kenny, Jack Harris, my brother Jim, at midfield; John Callanan, who died not long ago. The Harty escaped us, even with Pat Stakelum at centreback in my first year, and in later years against St. Flannan's. Brother J. V. Hutton was the man in charge, a man who made us really feel the importance of hurling. My first really good personal performance was when Munster beat Leinster in the inter-provincial final of 1948. Captained by Jimmy Smyth, we beat them by a point. The "Star" headline was flattering — "Goalie O'Grady Beats Leinster's Furious Finish"
ALL-IRELAND
The year before, 1947, we had won the Minor All-Ireland. At sixteen, I was quite young, but had been a sub. at fifteen on the 1946 team that got pipped by a Dublin goal in the very last minute. In 1948 we lost to a great Waterford team in the Munster final; and in 1949 1 was captain when we beat Kilkenny quite handsomely — the first time the "Irish Press" Cup was presented. Paddy (Sweeper) Ryan was a selector — one of my boyhood heroes, of course. One of the blackest days of that boyhood was when they lost to Eire Og, Anacarty, in the 1943 final. I played twelve minor games for Tipperary, •losing once.
Littleton was remote from our fringe of the parish. I never hit a ball there until the Rural Schools started — a competition in which we lost to Holycross on a shortened Sportsfield pitch the first day I saw John Doyle playing. The first junior team I was chosen for was the No. I for a Mid final in 1947, when I was sixteen; we beat Thurles Kickhams. The Powers and Hacketts were prominent; Lorrha later beat us in Gaile. I played senior that same year against Holycross, and wasn't so good. Perhaps what I heard before the match did not help. "Good God, Martin, you're not going to let the young lad play? If "Rock" Gorman gets a drive at him . . . " So spoke, with proper concern, Tommy Butler to my father as we walked across the outside pitch. Tommy had a point, considering the scope forwards had under the liberal code of those days.

I did the Leaving in 1948 — and left Moycarkey-Borris hurling also; but not before taking part in a match still recalled with much relish in the parish — Holycross have a better opinion of it. The day of the "long count", of exaggerated extra time; we led into almost ten minutes of added play, had it more or less won until disaster struck. To this day I don't know whether the ball I stretched for would have gone for a harmless •point; the rebound from my blpck was met by the inrushing Philip Maher, left unattended because of Johnny Meckler having been down injured. The extended, heated, hectic epic was over in maddening defeat — but it was a privilege to have been on the same field as Tommy Hayes, Johnny Ryan, "Mutt", "Sweeper", Fr. Jim Power and the rest. The defeat set the parish back seriously, but it "made" Holycross and was of benefit to Tipperary for 1949 and later. I was absent from my parish team for seven years.
THE CORK EXPERIENCE
Perhaps I shouldn't say itin a Moycarkey-Borris history, but the Cork interlude was a marvellous experience and helped my game. There was, in a way, less pressure on me because of being away from the home parish, where you recognised so many faces behind the goal. UCC had a college rule that we had to play in the Cork championship — one Limerick lad was expelled for defying it and playing with his home club in summer. This rule was aggravating, because UCD gave students a choice; Michael Maher was able to hurl for Holycross. The college team wasn't strong enough to do much good in the Cork championship, where the Glen, 'Barrs and Blackrock were powerful. I joined those famous 'Rockies in 1952, never think-ing of any other club — and thinking of Mickey Leahy. Cork were hurling's powerhouse in 1952/1954; the Glen had seven or eight of the best, led by Christy Ring. They would give you plenty of scope to be either good or bad — fortunate enough to have the eye "in" for a semi-final in 1953 and the final in 1954. Defeat was bearable if one had personal satisfaction in that company and before the county's biggest crowds for club hurling, with lads like Cashman, Brolan, Hayes and Bennett. 
Out of sight was out of mind as far as Tipperary were concerned. Tony Reddan
was in goal; indisputably the best; it didn't seem to matter who was sub. to him, and the current county champions, whether Swans or Sarsfields or Borrisoleigh supplied the reserve. But Reddan was dropped after the 1956 loss to Wexford in a league final, and the situation changed. Co-incidentally, I arrived back to Moycarkey-
Borris for the 1956 season. Down in Cork I had read of the tremendous effort against Sarsfields at Littleton in 1955; the names of the Tipperary minors, Pat and Donal Ryan cropped up and the old parish could well be moving again. So when we beat Boherlahan in the Mid semi-final with veteran Johnny brought back to play in front of me — the Mid final took on a crusading image. Alas, early goals by "Pa Joe" O'Brien and Michael Butler set a trend we could not reverse; a big disappoint- ment to me.
In March, 1957, there was a county trial. Cork had taken the upperhand of Tipperary since 1952 and there was discontent among followers, with selectors under fire. Reddan was given the goal position again on the Tipperary side; I was on the Rest. 

People like Paddy Kenny kept blasting away to such a degree that I had maybe my best ever game. When Tipperary met Cork in the summer neither Tony nor myself was on the selection. So then at the ripe age of 26 1 was finally given the jersey late in 1957 for a few League games, was reasonably successfully and retained for the 1958 championship. Out of a Mid v. North game came Kieran Carey and Donie Nealon. New faces arrived from South in Liam Connolly and Tom Larkin. After beating Limerick in Cork, with Michael Maher absent, the backline was formed — M. Byrne, M. Maher, K. Carey; J. Finn, T. Wall, J. Doyle. One thing only I will claim; I played with great men. Sometimes people devalue the All-Ireland by saying that we had only Galway to beat in the final, A truer measure is the list of counties we beat: Limerick (League runners-up), Cork, Waterford (Munster holders), Kilkenny (All-Ireland holders) and Galway. I was not faultless, giving away doubtful goals against Cork and Waterford; my best *evas against Kilkenny. How to describe one's state of mind when the big days came round and the crowds roared? A kind of trance, really; immense relief when final whistles blew on victory; a quiet pride, happy for my father particularly, and very much so for the parish; pleased and half-amazed, to be in line of succession to Moycarkey-Borris men I had stood in awe of, and still do. There is great luck to be on the spot at the right time, to be on the team that wins.
I then made a decision that has probably puzzled many. I at once retired from the
Tipperary team; never hit a ball with them after September, 1958. Why? For a fair while I was unhappy with my sight; before a game I'd slip into the toilet and bathemy eyes with Optrex; I had trouble reading the scoreboard at the far end. I needed glasses. So I came to the conclusion that I had achieved a great ambition and ought to leave it so; contact lenses were then both dear and experimental. The news was a shock to followers and to the team. I played no hurling at all in 1959, but when I heard of plastic, non-shatter glassses I got them and came back.
A COUNTY FINAL
The highlight after that has to be 1962. Like Gaile in 1948, it has a might-have been quality in memory. Had I got a piece more of the "bas" to "Musha" Maher's ground ball it would have, at worst, gone for a seventy instead of beating us in the end.

A battling team we had that day, one that made nonsense of a big defeat by Sarsfields in the Mid; one that was good enough to defeat a Toomevara who had been champions in 1960 and runners-up in 1961. The dour grit of Gus Ryan in front of me, Paddy Bourke and Mick Lonergan in corners — Mickey the next from the parish to win an All-Ireland; strong Tom Burke, powerful Pat Ryan, Tommy Lonergan outside of them; a fine defence that forced Sarsfields to produce the injured Jimmy Doyle late in the game. We got going properly in the second half carried the fight to them. Wall's exhibition was crucial — why did he have to be so good? In the last seconds Donal Ryan was unlucky with a free to level; but it had been a thrill to play a Tipperary final in an All-Ireland year — even if awkward to write about It• — I was then in my second year as "Cülbåire" on the "Star". The next year we got pipped by Roscrea'a last minute goal off a blatantly Wrong linesman's decision at Nenagh. In 1964, I think it was, there were the three great games against Holycross— I was ill in bed for the third. The boyish John Flanagan came along that year, a player destined to be of All-Ireland class and crown a long career with the glory of 1982. I played my last championship game at Gaile in 1967; a shot from Mick Coen seemed to be going wide. It wasn't. Time to leave it so when you misjudge things like that. I am grateful to hurling; it brightened one's life with a compelling interest, was a source of comradeship.
When a call came in the early seventies to become chairman of the club, one had to respond. The field had been bought and had to be paid for. To work with a great committee — or maybe to watch them working — and to see the debt paid off, with a series of annual pre-Christmas Sales the biggest factors; to see the old primitive layout become the modern walled arena, complete with dressingrooms that was satisfying. It was nice to follow in my father's tradition as chairman re--- he and my brother, Jim, made a chairman/secretary team for some years in the late 1940's. The late and deeply lamented Father Bob Harkins kindly took over the job completed; and now Liam Hennessy has led the club to the supreme height of a county championship. The minors are current champions. After a hundred years, hurling stays close to the heart of Moycarkey-Borris.

Excerpt from the Club History written by Cúlbaire in late 1983