Donal Lenihan: Tommy Kiernan marched us in to the rhythms of a Caribbean band

A SPECIAL MAN: Former Irish Lions Ronnie Dawson, Tom Kiernan, and Noel Murphy at the Kinsale Sevens. ‘What Tom Kiernan has done for Irish rugby will never be surpassed,’ writes Donal Lenihan. Picture: Des Barry

A force of nature in so many ways, Tom Kiernan — Tommy, TJ, or the Silver Fox as he was affectionately known by so many in his inner sanctum — was a truly remarkable character.

The stories are legendary. For a man who came across as private, reserved, and distant to many in the public arena, once he took you into his confidence, what you found was a warm, enriching and, at times, an intense figure, especially when it came to debating all things rugby and the state of the game worldwide. That was his passion.

He cared deeply about the game. Once on holiday in the south of France, he sourced the final resting place of William Webb Ellis, the man credited with picking up the ball and running with it to invent the game of rugby, and spent the afternoon cleaning up his grave at the Cimitiere du Vieux Chateau, in the coastal town of Menton.

I found him an incredibly engaging and supportive person. The first time I came under his influence was when he coached the UCC senior team the year after single-handedly putting together the blueprint that enabled Munster to become the first Irish team to beat the mighty All Blacks.

That job done, it appeared initially as if he was preparing to step back from the coalface and immerse himself in the club game. Little did we know that he was only keeping his coaching hand in, trying things out on a talented college side before assuming the reins with Ireland from the outset of the 1980/81 season.

How privileged were we to come under his influence at such a formative time in our careers?

Our captain Moss Finn grew up watching club rugby and had a deep knowledge of the game in Munster and the great rivalries that existed between UCC, Cork Con, Highfield, and Garryowen throughout Tommy’s playing career in the 1960s. Moss knew all the main characters, including Tommy’s fellow Cork internationals Jerry Welsh, Paddy McGrath, Noel Murphy, Terry Moore, and Phil O’Callaghan and the stories surrounding their exploits. Many a college training session at The Farm in Curraheen Road was delayed by chats between Moss and Tom as they debated the merits of different players. When we eventually got down to training Tommy was brilliant and made a mental note of the talent at his disposal.

Tom Kiernan arrives home from tour - pictured at Cork Airport e with wife Marie and son in July 1968

There was a fun side to Tommy that few outside got to enjoy. Imagine the surprise when, as a 20-year-old, I was beckoned by the great one on a memorable evening in London. It was the night before Ireland played England in Twickenham in 1980. Earlier in the day, Jerry Holland and I manned the second row for a very talented Irish Universities side that beat our fancied English counterparts in Richmond. Both of us had played under Kiernan’s management in UCC and were in awe of him.

We were entering the foyer of the hotel just as Tommy was leaving. He beckoned us to join him in a taxi. When Tommy summons you, you don’t refuse. Before we knew it, we were heading for an upmarket establishment in central London. When we walked in, the place was packed and the music stopped.

All of a sudden the Caribbean band, with their drummer leading the charge on his distinctive steel pans, started beating out a different rhythm and the melodic Jamaican lead singer broke into song. “Welcome I say welcome. Welcome, welcome, I say welcome. Tom Kiernan, Lions captain, we say welcome to you.”

As we made our way through the bar, people started clapping. Holland and I followed sheepishly behind Tommy, soaking in the applause. It was our first glimpse of what international rugby fame looked like.

We sat down at a table occupied by a cohort of Tommy’s old school friends from Cork. The fact that a few were former CBC rivals from his days in PBC became immediately obvious. He introduced us as the “crème de la crème” of young Irish rugby talent and ordered them to look after us for the night, which was just as well as the cost of a drink was far more than Jerry and I had between us. It was a side of Tommy we had never seen before.

Little did I appreciate that when Ireland would return to Twickenham two years later, I’d be winning my third cap, with Tommy as coach, on the day Ireland secured a famous win courtesy of Ginger McLoughlin’s legendary try in the corner before being mobbed by a group of delirious Irish fans.

Moss Finn was also on that Irish side. We could barely believe our luck to be part of an Irish team that Kiernan pieced together and coached magnificently to deliver a Five Nations championship and a first Triple Crown success in 33 years.

At the end of the season, we were invited to the RTÉ studios in Cork to talk through the campaign. Tom’s nephew Michael won his first cap off the bench in the opening match, against Wales at Lansdowne Road, when David Irwin broke his leg. Finn scored two tries that day but remembered neither having been concussed early on.

The protocols surrounding concussion and the potential long-term dangers were alien to everyone involved in the game at the time. We thought it hilarious that Moss missed the opportunity to celebrate his try-scoring feats with us that evening, having to spend the night in hospital instead.

We reckoned he played his best rugby when he hadn’t a clue what was happening.

We were young and inexperienced from a media perspective so, on that visit to the RTÉ, Tommy said he would field the early questions and allow us to settle into the interview. The previous November, I made my international debut against Australia, four days after beating the tourists in Munster colours at Musgrave Park. When the interviewer referred to the 16-12 defeat to the Wallabies two months before the Five Nations campaign, Tommy declared that “every three or four times you’d play Australia, you’d beat them nine times out of 10”.

We got a fit of the giggles and thought Tommy was going to kill us off-air afterwards. When we recounted what he had actually said, he broke into a broad smile and allowed us to enjoy a rare moment to take the piss out of him. What Tom Kiernan has done for Irish rugby will never be surpassed. He was there for all the big decisions and shaped the professional rugby model in this country once the IRFU finally decided to bite the bullet and embrace professionalism.

Kiernan and his fellow Irish International Rugby Board representative, another legendary figure in Ballymena’s Syd Miller, voted against the move to open the game on that historic day in Paris in August 1995. After a period of initial hesitancy, both recognised that, with the genie now out of the bottle, Ireland had to embrace this new world and make it work in our favour, which is exactly what has happened.

On the European stage, Kiernan found a kindred spirit in Welsh rugby visionary, Vernon Pugh. That pair stood shoulder to shoulder and refused to be intimidated by the English when they chose to boycott the fledgling Heineken Cup — which Kiernan and Pugh were instrumental in setting up — just three years after its inception, despite the fact that Bath won the 1998 final 19-18 in a riveting game against Brive in front of a capacity 36,500 fans in Bordeaux.

Kiernan called their bluff and the tournament continued without them when Ulster beat Colomiers in a packed-out Lansdowne Road the following season. When the English finally came to their senses and rejoined the tournament the following year, Kiernan enjoyed another famous victory over the old enemy.

When I became involved in management with Ireland and the British and Irish Lions, Tommy was massively supportive, a font of wisdom and common sense. In the dark days after losing to Argentina at the 1999 World Cup, he was brilliant.

When our fortunes improved and we beat France in Paris in 2000 for the first time in 29 years (the day Brian O’Driscoll came of age), Tommy came down from the stand and hugged me on the sideline, a tear in his eye. You could see what it meant.

Irish rugby is now operating under a strong southern hemisphere influence with director of rugby David Nucifora, a former Wallaby, in charge of every relevant rugby decision impacting on the provinces and the national side. Those in charge would do well to remember the foundation stone put in place by people like Kiernan and Miller and take on board the opinions of those in tune with the state of play at the grassroots in clubland in this country in order to preserve the game here long after the likes of Nucifora departs.

Kiernan wouldn’t stand for anything less.

My sincere sympathies to Tom’s wife Maree and all the Kiernan family. Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam dílis.