The prince of corner-forwards

I FOUND myself taking a longer than normal walk across Waterville Beach yesterday after hearing that the great gentleman, John Egan, had died suddenly.

My son John heard from Seanie Walsh in Tralee. Only that I knew the reliability of the source, I’d have had a second or third thought about it.

John Egan could go around or through defenders, whichever way they liked. When he was in possession a great calm washed over me on the Kerry sideline. It was like putting the ball into Fort Knox. It never came out until Egan decided he was ready to dish it off with one of these punted passes, or clip over a point.