Dermot Earley – as close to perfection as a man can be

DERMOT EARLEY dashed our every childhood dream, and yet we can never recall feeling any resentment towards him.

Our memories now are of all those Mayo-Roscommon clashes of the late 1970s following a wearyingly familiar pattern: Mayo starting off all guns blazing, maybe a Joe McGrath goal to inspire hope we knew we shouldn’t really entertain, and then the inevitable, inexorable Roscommon rally in the final ten minutes, leading to yet another forlorn journey home.

And, each time, Dermot Earley, bestriding McHale Park or Dr Hyde Park like a Boy’s Own hero, so elegant he shouldn’t be durable, so durable he shouldn’t be elegant, a man as close to perfection as a man can be.

You watched intently his every move because everything he did transmitted a message: for Roscommon people, he was the very embodiment of their county.

Dermot Earley didn’t just play for Roscommon: in an era when Roscommon had an outstanding team, Dermot Earley transcended all to achieve an iconic status that followed his name since his final day in 1985, and one which death will not diminish either.

Dermot Earley didn’t just play for Roscommon.

Dermot Earley was Roscommon.

He was their timeless symbol of daring and defiance. Say the name out loud.

Der-mot Ear-ley! Those four syllables are simply magical, still.

For the rest of us, he was an inconquerable peak, a chilling reminder that though you hoped against hope, they still had Dermot Earley and you best be prepared for disappointment yet again.

Jet black hair, he stood tall and erect, an impossibly handsome Hollywood film star transported into our two-channel world.

In the parade, he marched properly. Old-style, proud, affording the occasion the respect he knew it deserved.

Going up for the toss, he shook firm hands with the opposing captain and the referee. There was never anything mediocre about Dermot Earley: he did everything the way it should be done.

Dermot Earley was conscious of the heritage of which he was a part, and he could never besmirch that tradition. He treated opponents with courtesy and respect. Trash talk and silly mind games were anathema to Dermot Earley: he was manly and fair.

His entire life could be characterised as incontrovertible proof that the concepts of manliness and fairness need not be mutually exclusive.

Leaping high, powering through the middle, racing back to avert a crisis: Dermot Earley did whatever had to be done, because, for all the glorious talents he possessed, he was the ultimate team player.

Meet any Roscommon person this week, and expect to find a tear in the eye. This death shakes the county to its core.

It wasn’t just that he was their greatest player for half a century or more: it was that Dermot Earley was a rare type of hero.

He was utterly at one with his own people. He had a meaningful word for everyone. He genuinely believed in helping others.

There was never any discrimination in how he inter-acted with people: you were delighted to get a minute with him, but, yet, he was delighted to get a minute with you. Into every gathering, he injected a sense of nobility. We will never know how many people he consoled with a thoughtful visit or a kindly word.

Former colleagues have been utterly devastated by his sudden decline. Some I met not so long ago almost didn’t want to talk about it. Dermot Earley is wrapped up in the memories of so many great days in their lives that the notion of him passing on so young is almost too much to bear.

They will turn in their thousands to lay him to rest. There will be nothing false about the outpouring.

When the time came just over three years ago to bury Jimmy Murray, Roscommon’s All-Ireland captain of 1943 and ‘44, they turned to Dermot Earley to deliver the graveside oration: Dermot Earley was the most appropriate man to send a noble hero on his way.

“It was a privilege to have known him. People from all over Ireland asked about Jamesy when they knew you were from Roscommon,” Dermot Earley told the gathering in Knockroghery’s hillside graveyard that sunny January afternoon.

He might have been penning his own epitaph.

In 1985 Dermot Earley played his final game for Roscommon, on a losing Connacht final day. The significance of the occasion was not lost on the Mayo players, many of whom were almost 20 years his junior.

They set aside their own celebrations to carry him off the field on their shoulders in a powerful recognition of a wonderful man.

All who came into contact with Dermot Earley were enhanced by the experience.

He was the hero you were glad you met.

May be rest gently, one who led and inspired so many.