INTERVIEW
All-Ireland winning footballer Enda McNulty talks to about the farming accident that changed his life
BEFORE every big match, every difficult boardroom meeting, every personal challenge, Enda McNulty looks down at the jagged scars across his right arm and says “Jesus, Enda, pick yourself up”.
Although the marks have faded over the last two decades, their significance has deepened with every passing year.
Today, he looks at them as a gift.
An All-Ireland senior medallist with Armagh in 2002 and now a sports psychologist and author, Enda was just 17 when it happened.
He was at home in Lislea, south Armagh, a tiny farming community on the foothills of Slieve Gullion — the mountains where, according to mythology, Cú Chulainn played as a child.
The promising athlete was due to start at wing half back for his local club, Mullaghbawn, in an upcoming championship semi-final and had an important training session that evening.
But first, Enda, his brothers Paul and Justin, two cousins David and Ciaran, and neighbour Donal had to bring home a load of hay to his uncle’s 200-acre beef and dairy farm.
“We wanted to get the daily farming rituals done in time for training. We decided to get our friends and cousins on to the trailer and drive to Killevy to take in a load for bedding.
“We headed off. I was driving as hard as the old-school Ford 4000 would go. All the guys in the empty trailer behind like careless, naïve teenagers.”
The craic and banter was mighty on the banged-up trailer. The boys were singing along to the radio, eating sweets and waving at girls passing by.
They got to the field, stooked up the hay and started to load bales on to the trailer.
“A wise farmer would have taken one look at the load and said ‘no way are you getting on top of that’ but on we got, I hopped behind the wheel.
“I could hear all the craic they were having on top, laughing and waving at cars. I was getting jealous because I was sitting in the cab on my own,” he says.
Enda pulled into a shop and protested for someone else to drive the rest of the way. For fear they’d be late for training — their father Joe was the coach — Justin jumped into the tractor.
Thirty seconds later, they took a sharp turn at speed at a junction.
The boys were thrown from the load, sent into the air and over the top of a ranch fence. Enda went through it.
“I wrecked my arm. I pierced it through the fence and it went up the size of my thigh. I said ‘holy shit, I’m in major troubleble here’. I remember looking around and seeing the boys’ bodies lying around me — it was complete panic and shock”.
Although the rest of the group suffered minor injuries, paramedics were very worried about Enda’s arm when they arrived.
He was taken to Royal Victoriatoria Hospital in Belfast to get treatment from doctors who dealt with bomb injuries.
“The bones were smashed, literally, into smithereens. There were multiple fractures, no neural control in my arm or fingers, no power, no strength.
“The surgeon said ‘young fella, you’ ll never use your right forearm again’. I was totally distraught. We were having a laugh bringing home a load of hay, and now it ends up that I’m looking at no football, not going to be able to write,” he adds.
In the month that followed, there was little progress.
“There was no sign of even a micro movement in my fingers, arm or wrist. I was sitting in a sling, they hadn’t much hope. I was told to start writing with my left hand.” Enda was devastated. “One day, a teacher saw me completely despondent, pessimistic, lacking in morale, energy and motivation — my self-esteem was dipped, so was self-worth and self-confidence because I really enjoyed having a really active life.”
The teacher told Enda to remove the contraption and springs holding his fingers in place and to try to move his arm.
Despite his initial resistance, Enda understood what the teacher was trying to do — he