‘He’s a sportsman first of all — they’re all stars, not porn stars!’
A NOISY afternoon in the Dáil visitors bar, and David Norris is fending off the visitors.
The Trinity College Senator is buttonholed a dozen times between the bar counter and his seat, mostly by middle-aged women keen to see the Senate continue to exist despite its suggested abolition.
Their keenness on the bicameral system of government seems founded entirely on their equally potent enthusiasm for Norris. In a week of confessions — sensational and retracted — he has a disclosure or two to make about his own secret GAA life when he finally gets to sit down with his coffee.
On the face of it, David Norris attending the Sigerson Cup tournament as a supporter looks an unlikely prospect, but as a student in Trinity, Norris shared rooms with the captain of the GAA club.
“I ended up as kind of a mascot for the gaelic footballers,” says Norris. “I fell in with them, went to matches and so on. And through that I met Dublin footballer Tony Hanahoe, who mixed with everyone.
“Through Tony I ended up going to those great Dublin-Kerry clashes in the 70s in Croke Park. It was pretty different then, obviously, but there was an incredible atmosphere. And what a spectacle when the teams came out and played.”
As a schoolboy, Ronnie Delany was a brief hero who lived nearby — “The thought that he’d actually be on the Pathe Newsreel” — while rugby was Norris’ game: “I made the second team for the school, and I played on the right wing: I was a rather different shape then and had a real burst of speed.
“I didn’t like it as a contact sport — I had no desire to stick my head in among all those hairy bums — I wanted the ball to be passed out elegantly to me so I could get around the defence to touch the ball down under the posts to the tremendous applause of quite a small crowd. I loved that. I loved the camaraderie. And it’s sensual. Not sexual, but you’re aware of your body, you’re in the open air, you’re pouring sweat, then you go into the changing-rooms for a wonderful hot shower, and you have the smell of wintergreen and carbolic soap.
“It just makes you feel like part of humanity.”
After the Dublin-Kerry rivalry subsided, Norris’ life intersected with elite sport again.
He joined the Olympus gym in Dublin which had the likes of boxers Paul Griffin and Steve Collins and footballer Curtis Fleming.
“They knew who I was,” says Norris with a laugh. “Eventually the inevitable happened and I dropped the soap in the showers. They turned around and I said: ‘remember what mummy said, darlings; don’t bend down when you pick it up’. That broke the ice.”
Of course they knew.
For many years Norris was the most visible gay rights campaigner in the country. Given his memories of travelling Ireland in the 70s to meet gay people enduring isolated lives in small country towns, he’s loud in his praise for Donal Óg Cusack’s candour.
“The public support he’s got from trainers, colleagues and so on has been terrific, and that’s the way it should be.
“Unfortunately it hasn’t always been that way, particularly in England, where Justin Fashanu came out and ended up taking his life, which was shocking.
“I admire Donal Óg Cusack, not just for his athletic prowess — he’s an All Star and All-Ireland medal winner, though I wouldn’t be so familiar with that — but because he decided to take control of his own destiny and make this information available in the context he chose.
“We know there are a lot of gays in the entertainment industry, hairdressers, playwrights — even a few old politicians — but this is the first major athlete to come out in Ireland.
“I think it’s very important because when I was at school the only people who were known to be gay where Micheal Mac Liammoir and Hilton Edwards, but they were very arty and regarded as slightly freaky, though there was also an affection for them.
“Now there are more role models, which can only be good for young people who may be confused about their sexuality or know they’re gay.
“Now they see a young athlete, a courageous young man, coming out.
“I congratulate him and send him my thanks. What I’ve also noticed is the stunning silence from the conservative forces in this country. Some of those elements, such as the conservative element in the church, have taken a terrible battering because of scandals and may not feel entitled to comment on a young man who is decent, upright and honourable who just happens to be gay.”
Norris has the established positions on sport and society that one would expect from a seasoned politician: in favour of community-centred sports activity, against professionalism in sport (“That’s ruined many rugby clubs, the GAA are doing well not to go down that route,”) and against drinks sponsorship (“I’m not a killjoy, but these are multinational corporations who don’t give a boiled fart how many young lives they ruin”).
His last word on the Cusack revelation is characteristically pithy as well: “It’s important to remember this is only part of the person’s life. He’s a sportsman first of all — they’re All Stars, not porn stars!”
And at that he’s off into the middle of the bar, but after three steps he’s cornered by a pair of old dears from Galway.
Your correspondent’s parting glimpse — or echo — is of the Senator for Trinity College producing a fair attempt at a Laois accent for his two listeners; they look so enraptured that if the Seanad were to be demolished in the morning the pair of them would probably lie down in front of the bulldozers.
CONNECT WITH US TODAY
Be the first to know the latest news and updates
