Brothers in Sport (26 page)

He worried for his wife, Kay, and the children. He worried about his mother at home and the rest of the extended family. There were tears shed when Kay was eventually allowed to see him. He was due to stay in Dublin but abandoned that idea. There was no way he could be seen in public the following day, especially in Croke Park with Galway playing. Eventually he was escorted out of the room still surrounded by security men talking into walkie-talkies. It would have been funny in other circumstances, but he felt hounded. He could predict the furore that would follow, the negativity and the attention. Kay was flying to Lourdes as an assistant with a pilgrimage so she would be spared the worst of it. ‘But the house was a lonely place when I got back to it,’ he says.

The nightmare continued for months. The hate mail began to arrive. Then the abusive phone calls. He wanted to protect his young family, but he also wanted to maintain a sense of normality. ‘The kids were young and they didn’t realise they should hang up when they answered the phone to some lad giving abuse.’ At Christmas the calls went something like, ‘Are you getting a new watch from Santy?’ It went on for a long time and he wondered if it would ever end. Over time it did, but the experience and the reaction of some people will never be forgotten.

There was support too from family and friends; support from people he didn’t know but who took the trouble to write and show they cared. That helped him and his family recover. Jimmy didn’t quit. He refereed the Galway county final that year. He was also appointed to take charge of the All-Ireland intermediate hurling final between Kilkenny and Limerick. His travails were put in perspective on that day, 10 October. The Limerick hurling manager was their former goalkeeping legend
Tommy Quaid, against whom Jimmy had played. A few days before the game Tommy suffered serious injuries in a work accident. He died on the morning of the final.

A torn Achilles tendon finally forced Jimmy to leave the whistle aside. ‘But my confidence was gone,’ he says. ‘I never really recovered. If I made a mistake in a game after that there was always some fella on the sideline shouting at me to remind me of what had happened.’

Joe recalls those days with sadness. ‘He didn’t deserve it,’ says the younger brother. ‘The thing is that Jimmy was a really good referee. I’ll give you an example of how people thought of him. If we were playing the likes of Athenry they wouldn’t have had an objection to Jimmy being the referee.’

* * *

Joe Cooney could have added a few more All-Ireland medals to his collection but he doesn’t look back with any regrets. ‘When you look back you think of the great fun we had. There were such characters on that team. You loved going in to training because of the craic. There were so many great players around. We all looked up to Conor [
Hayes] and Sylvie [
Linnane]. There were great players in other counties; the Cashmans in Cork, the Hendersons in Kilkenny, Brian
Whelahan and the Pilkingtons in Offaly. Every county had great players. D.J. [
Carey] came along. Every time he got the ball you would close your eyes because you knew he was going to do damage.

‘The game was more social then; I think it was more fun than it is now. Today it is win at all costs. We were always bitterly disappointed when we lost. It was serious. But today it has gone over the top.’

In the last two years he has helped out with the Sarsfields under-21 team. But he doesn’t have any designs on team management. ‘It is cut-throat now. There’s too much pressure. If a manager doesn’t win titles he is regarded as a failure. It is almost a full-time job now and you need a certain type of personality to do it. Being a selector is fine. Management is different.’

The sporting gene is in the family. Joe’s wife Catherine was a talented camogie player and was an Irish schools international in volleyball. Her brother is the All-Ireland-winning footballer Tomás Mannion. Eldest daughter Aoife also attained international status as a schools volleyball player in 2010. Maria is an all-round athlete and the youngest boys are showing promise. Joseph Junior, the eldest and a student in NUI Galway, has developed into a fine wing back. His father doesn’t offer too much advice, just a little quiet encouragement. ‘You can only tell them so much, they have to learn themselves.’

Jimmy’s family is grown up. He is still closely involved with the game and stood for the position of Galway Hurling Board chairman in 2009, losing out to Joe Byrne. ‘He’s a good chairman and I know Galway is in good hands,’ he says. He is disappointed that Galway have not made an All-Ireland breakthrough in modern times. ‘The years are pushing on. 1988 is a long time ago now and a lot of young lads in Galway haven’t seen the county with a hurling title. Hurling needs it.’

Peter the Great: Peter Canavan in typical pose lining out for Tyrone in the Ulster championship.

© Pat Murphy/SPORTSFILE

Mickey Moyna’s cars. Peter Canavan chuckles at the memories – all good. The first one, way back in 1989, was some sort of old banger, as he remembers. Gradually over the years the cars got a bit better. The passengers remained constant. Peter and Pascal Canavan, Paul Donnelly,
Éamon McCaffrey and Ciarán ‘Dinky’ McBride. To and from Tyrone training or matches the ribbing was merciless. Pascal was Mickey’s chief tormentor, ‘the main culprit for Mickey’s bad humour’ according to Peter. ‘It was an exhausting experience getting to a match, worse than even playing. And it was even harder going home. You needed your wits about you as much if not more in Mickey’s car than you did on the pitch in a Championship
game.’

Thoughts of those journeys over a period of fifteen years and the unflagging loyalty and support of men like
Mickey Moyna, of his recently deceased father Seán and of the sacrifices made by his mother Sarah, were part of the combination of factors that invaded the emotions of Peter Canavan on a late September Sunday evening in 2003 when match referee Brian White sounded the final whistle and Tyrone had won their first ever All-Ireland senior football title by beating their great rivals Armagh.

Escaping the embraces of the adoring thousands of supporters that had flooded the playing area, Canavan hobbled up the steps of the Hogan Stand hugging team-mates along the way. He thought about what he would say when he accepted the Sam Maguire Cup from the president of the GAA, Seán Kelly. His father, who had died unexpectedly on 4 July that year, a week before the Ulster final, was at the forefront of his mind. Peter would mention Paul McGirr, the young Tyrone teenager who had died while playing for his county just six years earlier. He remembered old team-mates, coaches like
Art McRory and
Eugene McKenna, and others who had contributed to this moment. ‘I can’t think of a better position or place to be in anywhere in the world than where I am standing now,’ he told the crowd as his voice crackled with emotion.

Somewhere and sometime within that splendid cauldron of happiness and celebration, Peter saw his brother. They probably embraced. He doesn’t remember for sure. It was bedlam. But for one fleeting moment they exchanged a look that said ‘this is what it was all for’. Fifteen years of toil, graft and sacrifice. They had suffered bad defeats and heartbreaking losses together, including the 1995 All-Ireland final. They had shared triumphs with their club, their family and their county. And now Peter held the ultimate prize.

‘My only regret,’ says Peter now, ‘is that Pascal hadn’t stayed on with Tyrone to share the All-Ireland victory as a player. We had soldiered together every year since 1990. We had travelled together to every ground in Ulster and most of the grounds in the rest of Ireland for so long and then when Tyrone eventually got the ultimate prize and he was not there was bitterly disappointing for me.’

Pascal, three years older than Peter and an outstanding player in his own right, had made up his mind in the summer of 2002 that his time as an inter-county footballer was done. He was thirty-five. He looked back on a career laced with great successes and a lot of fun. His body was beginning to send messages to his brain that could not be ignored forever. He had been returning to the panel later each year trying to preserve the ageing limbs. ‘It was April when I came back in 2002,’ explains Pascal, ‘and it was getting harder and harder to make up the time. I had injuries, just wear and tear, and I made my mind up that it would be my last year.’ He did play in the League final in May 2002 as a substitute and won a national title with Peter. They also captured another Ulster club title with Errigal Chiaráin. It wasn’t a bad way to sign off.

Pascal (left) and Peter Canavan together in triumph after Errigal Chiárain won the Ulster club title in 2002.
© Damien Eagers/SPORTSFILE *EDI*

Pascal had played as a substitute against Armagh in both a draw and a replay in the Ulster Championship, which Armagh eventually won on their way to All-Ireland glory. He had also appeared against Derry in the qualifier series. The one game he started in 2002 was against Sligo in Croke Park, a game Tyrone were expected to win handily. Despite the Canavan brothers scoring eight of
Tyrone’s twelve points that afternoon, they lost by five points. ‘I had given it my best shot,’ says Pascal. ‘I was already having doubts at the start of 2002 about whether I could make a contribution or not. If I had stayed on I would have been hoping that someone else would win an All-Ireland for me. I could not physically have given what was necessary. Time was moving on. It was a young man’s game and I had to hand over. Mickey
Harte was taking over, it was a new regime and I didn’t feel it would be right to try to hang in there when I couldn’t give it everything.

‘It is hard to describe the feeling of elation to see them winning the All-Ireland the following year. I would love to have been there, to have been part of it. But I have no regrets. I made the right decision.’

The management team made sure Pascal was not removed completely from the squad environment. He was in the changing rooms to celebrate. He travelled on the team bus. It would not have been the same without him. ‘Pascal didn’t want to be a bit player. He wouldn’t have wanted to bluff his way through it if he couldn’t give it everything. But he was one player who deserved to win an All-Ireland,’ says Peter passionately.

Pascal did play a role in the weeks leading up to the final as a source of encouragement to Peter in his battle for fitness. Other family members, especially Peter’s wife Finola, ensured that everything possible was done to create the proper environment and conditions that would allow Peter to recover from an ankle injury sustained in the All-Ireland semi-final success against Kerry. It was the end of a long, arduous campaign during which they had drawn with both Derry and Down in the Ulster Championship before emerging as champions. They had an easy All-Ireland quarter-final win against Fermanagh, before enjoying a comprehensive victory over Kerry in the semi-final. But Peter Canavan played just fourteen minutes of that game, suffering serious damage to ankle ligaments.

On the Friday morning before the final Peter resigned himself to the fact that he would not be able to play. ‘It was a strange time. I had really enjoyed the build-up to the final in 1995. It was a great time. But this was different. I was so wrapped up with my injury that I didn’t notice what was happening around me. In thirteen years playing Championship with Tyrone I had played in just one final. I figured 2003 would be my last chance and I was frustrated that I would not be able to give it everything.

‘My time was consumed by getting my ankle in the best shape it could possibly be. Family and friends drove me everywhere, for treatment, for physiotherapy, for anything that might give me a chance of playing. I wanted to give Mickey [
Harte] every guarantee that I could play. It was a decision [to select him] that I did not think
Mickey would make because physically I was not able to play.’

Harte had given the decision a lot of thought. He weighed the advantages against the disadvantages. He imagined the impact of not having Peter Canavan in his starting team; how the crowd would react if his name was not called out on the public address system minutes before the start; more important was the reaction of the players to not having their leader and inspiration with them on the field of play. The manager knew the character of the player he was dealing with. They had known each other all of Peter’s life. Normally it was not the sort of gamble a manager would even contemplate. But dealing with a talent like Peter Canavan was not a normal situation.

‘From the point of view of free kicks I was okay,’ Peter says. ‘The hope was that we might get a few handy ones.
Mickey talked to me on the Friday and he wanted me to start. The plan was to stay on for about fifteen minutes and then
Stevie O’Neill, who was flying in training, would come on. But the night before the final
Brian McGuigan was feeling unwell so the plan had to be changed. Stevie came on for him during the first half so I had to stay on until half time.’

When Tyrone lined out for the second half Peter Canavan remained in the dressing-room. He had a pain-killing injection and rejoined the substitutes in the stand. With less than ten minutes remaining
Harte made the call. As Canavan limbered up gingerly on the sideline the crowds in the Croke Park stands erupted. He jogged back onto the field and his team-mates responded to his presence with a new burst of energy. It was the emotional lift that carried them over the line. Tyrone 0–12, Armagh 0–9.

* * *

Little was known about the kid from Glencull in County Tyrone who arrived at St Mary’s teacher training college on the Falls Road in Belfast in the late 1980s. Pascal Canavan didn’t have a football pedigree simply because he had not played any organised football. Some years before his older brother Stevie had played with Tyrone’s minors and under-21s. Another brother, Barry, played for Tyrone Vocational Schools. But a major split in their club, St Kieran’s of Ballygawley, had led to a period of isolation and ineligibility from playing football officially outside the schools environ-ment.

Seán Canavan had been a player, a manager and an ad- ministrator with St Kieran’s for most of his life. He and Sarah had eleven children. Seán was a butcher who ran the family farm in Glencull. Sarah ran the local post office. Kieran, Barry, Stevie, Pascal, Peter and Joe all played football. Margaret, Agnes, Nuala, Martina and Bronagh played camogie. The youngest members of the clan, especially Peter and Joe, cannot remember the split which happened in 1982 when the Glencull contingent wanted to set up their own club. This created rancour and division. The new club was not allowed to affiliate with the GAA because St Kieran’s was already in existence for the area, so its members could not play in official competitions. Stevie Canavan felt his hopes of playing senior football for Tyrone were dashed. He and his brothers watched from the stands as Tyrone won the 1984 and 1986 Ulster Championships.

They organised challenge games, played among themselves on the family farm and remained inspired and motivated by following the fortunes of Tyrone during a period of some success. They were in awe of
Frank McGuigan when he kicked eleven of Tyrone’s fifteen points in the 1984 Ulster final. They joined in the celebrations as Tyrone reached the 1986 All-Ireland final and were so proud when family friend
Paudge Quinn scored the goal that almost beat the mighty Kerry. In the match programme Quinn’s club is listed as ‘Ballygawley’. His school is listed as ‘St Ciaran’s’. Spelled locally with a ‘K’, the school was educating a new generation of young footballers that in 1986 included Pascal and Peter Canavan.

Pascal had departed for St Mary’s by 1988 when Peter, his younger brother by three years, captained the Tyrone Vocational Schools team to All-Ireland success. The youngster’s talent was beginning to be noticed nationally. But because he was not officially a member of the GAA he could not play for Tyrone’s inter-county teams. That was a matter for concern to the Tyrone minor manager,
Francie Martin, who decided it was time to be proactive. If Glencull could not be affiliated then Peter Canavan would have to become a GAA member some other way. Utilising a bye-law that allows a player join a hurling club if his own club does not have a hurling team, Peter Canavan was signed up as a player with Killyclogher hurling club. He won an Ulster minor title that summer and a career was launched.

‘It was a strange time,’ Peter recalls. ‘We were reared on football. For nine years the club tried to get affiliated but were refused. So we just played challenge games and trained. It gave us more time to practise the skills, but we were not getting proper competition. I was playing senior football at the age of fifteen and sixteen. It was a difficult time for a lot of reasons. A lot of good players were not getting serious football and were lost to the game. And the community was divided; neighbours weren’t speaking to each other. People were so passionate about football and it created divisions. For nine years people paid a heavy price. In the end, the club emerged with a stronger identity.’