Francis Brennan on a cricket match that went wrong: 'I was speechless that a priest would use a bad word'

Hotelier, TV personality, and Age Friendly Ambassador for Kerry Francis Brennan tells Helen O’Callaghan how a single brush with cricket on a freezing March day in the 1960s confirmed for him he wasn’t — and never would be — sporty

Francis Brennan: 'So now I’m dangling two feet off the ground, Fr Matthews holding me up, he drops me down, pulls me back up. “You’re supposed to catch the f***ing ball”.'

I didn’t get on great with the Christian Brothers in primary school, Westland Row — they murdered me. In those days, you just got on with it; you didn’t tell your parents.

I went into first year at the Catholic University School, Leeson Street, around 1968, a Marist priest-run school at the time — it was like Butlin’s compared to Westland Row. The whole way they taught, developed you, was completely different. I got to love school.

It was a great rugby school but I was born with a club foot. I spent months in hospital, had 11 operations from when I was born up to the age of 11. So I was never going to play rugby, I wasn’t sporty. It didn’t worry me — if I was 100% perfect, I wouldn’t have played sport anyway.

But in the Catholic University School, they had cricket. And I thought: this is very interesting, it’s a gentleman’s sport, there’s a nice blazer, it’s kind of stylish and my foot won’t matter.

Suddenly, a sport became available! I knew nothing about cricket but I signed up for the team.

First, I went to Elvery’s on Cathal Brugha Street, the best-dressed for sports in Dublin at the time, and I got the white trousers, the sleeveless V-jumper. I was all geared, set and ready.

Open day was a Thursday in March. All of us who’d signed up headed out to the Merrion Cricket Ground. Our coach was Fr Matthews who taught us German… I presumed the first day would be classroom-style — all about the history, theory, rules of cricket.

Francis Brennan: 'I tried sport once, it went wrong and it gave me a story for life.'

Not at all. It was all "you stand there, you do this… Brennan out there and if the ball comes your direction you have to catch it and throw it to him" — indicating another boy.

So there I was, standing in the cricket field in March, in my long trousers — a bonus compared to the usual short ones — in my little shirt and my sleeveless jumper, and the wind coming off the Three Rock Mountain that overlooks Dublin.

And I’m standing there waiting for this ball that was to come my way… 20 to 30 minutes went by and I could have been at the bus stop, nothing happening. They were all a good bit over from me, all occupied, all clicking and clacking… 

And myself and the other boy standing like spare parts in the freezing grounds waiting for this ball to come. In 40 minutes, it never came. And I’m thinking: What’s this all about? What in the name of God’s going on over there and I’m not involved and yet I’m playing cricket?

And in the 41st minute, maybe, the ball comes flying towards me. I thought 'that’ll kill me if it hits me'. I kind of stepped out of the way and it went flying by, shot up the bank and into a pile of trees, and I’m thinking: 'I should have caught that'.

And ‘him’ — who I was to throw it to — is looking at me, completely perplexed, like ‘why didn’t you catch it?’ And then, 12 to 15 fellows and Fr Matthews all charging towards me. Fr Matthews gets to me and he pulls me off the ground and my feet are swinging — “What the feck are you at? You’re meant to catch the f***ing ball.”

I was speechless that a priest would use a bad word. We never had language in our house. So now I’m dangling two feet off the ground, Fr Matthews holding me up, he drops me down, pulls me back up. “You’re supposed to catch the f***ing ball”. 

And I said: “What did you say?” It was the language I was worried about, not the ball. And I said: “I’m standing here for 40 minutes and I’m frozen and if this is cricket I’m finished.”

And because he’d pulled me up in the air I was at his level, I was able to say, face-to-face: “I’m finished with cricket.” 

All the boys crowded around, waiting to see what was going to happen. He had a short temper.

He dropped me down. I walked back into the clubhouse, changed my clothes, went home, and hung my cricket uniform in the wardrobe.

Years later, my mother asked what she’d do with it. I said, “Give it to St Vincent de Paul”. So somebody in Dublin got a beautiful pair of white trousers… top notch, worn only for an hour.

Part of the appeal of cricket was definitely the style… the idea of the white trousers. I still have a hankering after a V-neck sweater, I’ve gone too old for it now but I’ve often thought, with a pair of jeans it’d look nice.

That was my one and only brush with sport. That day on the cricket grounds confirmed I just wasn’t sports-minded, I wasn’t made for it, forget it, I’m not interested. I wasn’t one bit disappointed.

I tried sport once, it went wrong and it gave me a story for life.

• The PTSB Ideal Home Show returns to RDS Simmonscourt this weekend, April 24 to 26, bringing the best of Ireland’s home-improvement professionals and suppliers under one roof. Francis Brennan will attend across the weekend at the Dunnes Stores Pavilion, where he’ll meet visitors and share the inspiration behind his homeware collection. Visit idealhome.ie.

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