Gentleman Con was a man you could trust

BEFORE getting into any nitty-gritty, a few words of acknowledgement.

Over the past several years, since assuming this position, I had the pleasure and the privilege of meeting the late Con Murphy on a number of occasions.

I won’t claim that I got to know him, because I didn’t, but I do have an instinct for people and Con Murphy struck me as one of nature’s finest. A gentleman, an honest man, a true man, the kind of guy who looked you in the eye when he spoke, who took your hand in a firm grip, who told it like it was. You could believe him, you could trust him. I wouldn’t always have held with his opinions, would very often have held very strong opinions to the contrary, but I respected the man absolutely.

Having played against him many times my father knew him well, held him in very high regard, even though there wasn’t any great love lost between the Galway teams of my father’s time and Con’s Cork. Then again, they would have been very much two of a kind and whenever they met, Irish was their chosen language of communication.

A mutual friend who knew him ever better again was Mick Ryan, grand-uncle of current Cork full-forward Neil Ronan, grandfather of promising Dublin minor and Colleges’ hurler Wayne Brogan.

A star of the 50’s with both Cork and Dublin, another straight-shooter of that generation, as team-mate and friend Mick got to know Con on and off the field.

“They will never bury a better man,” he said. “Courage was his greatest attribute, as a player and as an administrator, but he was everything that any man should ever aspire to be.”

Last week Mick, hearing that he was ill, sent Con a postcard; “It’s only half-time,” went the few words, “But hold on, we’re not going to take the field again without you.”

That second half will now be played where all second halves are played. I hope there’s a good supply of ash.

AND now, straight into an area where I know Con would be dead set against me. The piece here last week castigating the awful spectacle gaelic football has become in too many big games generated a fair bit of response.

And I would have to say – though this isn’t the norm when a controversial stance is adopted here — a lot of positive response. But then I tend to meet a lot of hurlers, and hurling supporters, so perhaps that response is understandable. A theme that came up again and again, however, was this – it’s time that hurling separated itself cleanly from gaelic football, time that it had its own distinctive organisation, albeit under the umbrella of the GAA.

Constantly in the GAA, especially when the Croke Park debate was going on, we heard the cry about the threat to the GAA from these foreign sports of rugby and soccer. That threat, my friends, isn’t to the GAA, it’s to gaelic football.

I’ll never tire of pointing out in these columns, the greatest threat to hurling – past, present and future – is gaelic football, or more specifically, those who run gaelic football.

Gaelic football is the dominant sport within the GAA, with more players, more teams, more counties competitive at every level. It follows on from that, logically, that gaelic football people will dominate within the corridors of power in the GAA. When it comes to decision-making then, whose interests will dominate, gaelic football or hurling? And believe me, just as there are an awful lot of hurling people out there who agree with me that gaelic football is our greatest threat, there are huge swards of football people who believe that hurling in their counties, in their clubs, should be suppressed.

Unlike soccer and rugby, the hurling and gaelic football seasons overlap completely; unlike soccer and rugby, the hurling and gaelic football player-base comes from almost exactly the same constituency. In such a scenario the bigger sport will always have the upper hand, always.

Without shadow of doubt, it would be in hurling’s best interests to separate itself, to have its own dedicated administration, its own dedicated rules-makers, its own dedicated proponents, its own dedicated promoters.

Hurling is the real game of the Gael, the game that most defines us; you can have your Caid, your foul-ridden football, take it and develop in any direction you want, but give us hurling on its own. Let hurling people take responsibility for hurling, let hurling people decide where hurling should go. Then stand back, lads, and prepare to be amazed.

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