MICHAEL DUIGNAN ON A WEEK OF GRIEF AND RAW EMOTION
THE first thing I’d say is that all GAA activities pale into insignificance at a time like this. We still don’t really know what we’re facing. We’re looking across the world at people dying. It’s unprecedented and terribly sad. It’s just such an unusual time for us all and, in the midst of all the strangeness and sadness, I had to bury my father last week.
I have so much admiration for the health workers. They are the ones on the front line, fighting to save our lives. The amount of doctors and nurses that are catching the virus or, in fact, dying is so heartbreaking.
I’ve been through the mill with hospitals over the years. Not taking from our doctors but the work that nurses do is incredible. It is a true vocation. We’re looking at our student nurses now and, thankfully, they will be getting paid for their hard work.
After taking on the position of Offaly County Board chairman in December, we had been getting through the really tough first few months of the year in terms of getting things up and running. We had four regional forums planned to get our strategic forum ready – already we have put together a programme that hoped to double the fixtures for our players.
Sometimes the workload can be overwhelming and I was telling people to try putting smiles on their face because we’re doing this from a voluntary point of view – because we love it.
But really what you want is to see your activities on the field. We had two rounds of the senior hurling championship planned for April as well as looking forward to the inter-county championships.
I was excited about the summer’s action, being involved with The Sunday Game and discussing it all on these pages.
The abruptness of how this pandemic hit has caught everyone off guard. It was around March 12 that suddenly decisions had to be made on the hoof. You were hearing rumours. Then the schools closed. We were due to have minor training that night but we just felt it wasn’t appropriate to carry on. So we started to pull things.
The discussion about the seniors came then – the footballers were due to go to Tipperary and the hurlers were out. All of a sudden you’re making decisions on matters with zero knowledge.
Away from the games and the activities and the fixtures, there is so much to the day-to-day running of affairs.
In fairness, the leadership came from the top – instructing us that we were closed until the end of March. It became clear then that there won’t be any activity for the month of April at least. There is no point trying to look too far ahead beyond that juncture.
In a general sense, whatever happens will be in the best interests of people.
There has been a gradual build-up with the virus – unfortunately an increasing number of deaths. It’s all about families and community and staying safe and keeping as many people alive as we can. Staying away from each other and adhering to the guidelines. It has taken a little bit of time, but I think the penny has dropped.
I was talking to the Offaly team sports psychologist who offered to stay in touch with the players and see if he can help in any way right now. Because mental health is so important and this is a culture shock to the players as much as anyone when they don’t have the usual physical outlet.
So many things are happening in people’s lives. And the normal comfort we all take from sport is being taken away.
IN THE middle of that then, on March 16, my dad died. It was a Monday. My father Peadar was 85, a very fit man who had never been in hospital for a night in his life, luckily enough. There’s six of us in the family, all spread around the place. None of us are at home in Banagher – I’ve a brother in Canada, two sisters in Dublin, one in Sallins. We’re all fit and well, thank God.
I got a call from my mother the previous Wednesday evening, saying he hadn’t been well for a couple of days. So I ended up bringing him into hospital that night.
I won’t go into every puck of the ball but he was serious for a few days and went into intensive care. It wasn’t virus related – he had a problem with blood supply to the bowel.
They operated on Thursday night and he seemed to make a strong recovery, even though his blood pressure was low. He was as tough as nails. A slight man but very strong.
On Saturday morning, I got a call. They were keeping in touch with me because I was close to Tullamore Hospital. By Saturday morning he was sitting out of the bed and having a cup of tea. My mother got in to see him.
He actually rang her on Friday and she went in with one of my sisters and then Saturday with my brother. It was only briefly, because visiting hours were restricted and he was in the ICU. On Saturday evening, I got a call to say he was being released from ICU and going into a ward.
Unfortunately, I got another call. By the time I got in, he was dead.
Anyone who has been through a funeral, you know about trying to deal with the undertaker – arranging clothes, the wake, the funeral
Mass – all those things. All of a sudden you’re overwhelmed with questions: ‘What can we do? What do we do?’
We had a few discussions at home and felt we couldn’t go down the road of a usual open funeral. We were anxious to bring him home. It happened so suddenly – three of my sisters hadn’t seen him at all. My mother only had two very brief visits, which was very hard on her.
When someone is that sick, normally you’d be with them for a time.
So we made a decision to get him home. But we decided not to have anyone in the house apart from ourselves – given what was going on in the country. That included uncles and aunts and cousins. A hard decision but one we felt was necessary.
I saw it all 10 years ago with my late wife Edel, during her battle with cancer. I took a lot of comfort seeing the support from so many people from so many counties. It underlined the power of the GAA.
But this wasn’t about me, this was about my mam and dad. Their enduring friendship always shone through. My father would have worked all his life and came into contact with many people – he would have been well known locally and further afield. Then with my brother and sisters spread out and my own involvement in GAA, it would have been a massive funeral.
And while I took comfort in the way people were there after Edel’s death, I think it was lovely for us, as a family, and particularly my mother, to be there at home – all of us together.
I know when this virus passes, things will go back to normal. But there is a lot to be said to having that couple of days. He got home Monday afternoon, went to the church on Wednesday. So we had that evening and all the next day to ourselves, to grieve privately.
Of course neighbours and friends were there in the background, offering help in any way they could. The same for the GAA – but it was very private.
There was nobody ringing me as well during that time on GAArelated business. The closedown had already taken place.
That said, I was conscious of keeping the lines of communication open with all our managers. I had sent a message out to the minors, Under 21s and seniors, just to talk to the players that they weren’t getting together to train. To show leadership in the community.
I did think it was important that the county players were in tune with what was happening on the ground. Michael Fennelly and John Maughan were the same. Do your training programme but do it on your own, was the clear message
This is bigger than all of us. Same as golf, horse racing and everything else being halted for now. Unless you’re volunteering, or on the front line helping the cause, staying at home is vital.
THE HISTORY of the GAA is about fathers and sons but my case was a little bit unusual because, when we were young, my mother was the main influence. My father worked long hours, he worked hard for his family. He handed over whatever few quid he got. He looked after all
‘EAT UP, THERE’S NO POINT MAKING A FOOL OF YOURSELF IN CROKE PARK AND BEING HUNGRY AS WELL’
the work and things around the house but she did everything outside the house – the banking, the doctor, the dentist. It might be different now but every family had that split.
They would have been 56 years married this year.
In the very early days, it was my mother bringing us to matches. I remember Offaly winning the AllIreland hurling title in 1981, my club St Rynagh’s winning six hurling championships in a row. That was on my doorstep. I was living in the middle of the town, about 100 yards from the pitch.
His influence? Mentally, he was very strong. His main two sports were athletics and boxing. I had a huge interest in athletics and he would bring me all over the country. I did a lot of running, cross-country and everything, up until I was 14 or 15. That was a massive help because I wasn’t the most gifted hurler but I was never found wanting for fitness. The boxing thing was a bit of craic at home and probably got me out of a few scrapes down the road too!
He was a Connemara man with a dark sense of humour – he was very witty. All those things were prevalent in my childhood. As I got older, he became a bigger influence as he went to more matches.
He was a proud Galway man, of course. In ’86, we were playing Galway in the minor All-Ireland semi-final. I came home from first Mass and he had a Galway flag up on the chimney.
In 1988, we were playing Galway in the senior All-Ireland semi-final. I was barely 20. I was midfield with Joachim Kelly – I think against Pat Malone and Brendan Lynskey. I wasn’t eating my breakfast, I was deeply nervous, pushing it around the plate. He looked down and said, ‘What’s wrong with you?’. I said, ‘Jaysus dad, I’m shockin’ nervous.’
And he replied: ‘If I was you I’d eat up. There’s no point being in the middle of Croke Park making a fool of yourself and being hungry as well.’
He was right on both counts!
His calmness then after matches always stuck with me. Whereas my mother was up and down. If you played well she was grand, if you didn’t she could eat you – “What was wrong with you today?” He was huge on discipline. Keeping the head strong. Lads might think I pulled a few strokes in my time but I was proud of my discipline.
Long before sports psychologists, I learned so much from him about taking a belt, discipline, the manliness of the game, giving an odd one out.
Never show you were hurt or injured or upset.
I said this to the priest at home – he was very proud of us all. I knew he was proud, but he never said it.
Other family members have achieved a lot in their own walk of life, but it didn’t matter really to him. For him, it was about treating everyone the same in a life sense. All the Offaly lads were on to me. Lads who would have come to the house, or had the craic around minor level and known him. I think it was the Wednesday after we won the minor All-Ireland that we were out in Banagher for a few pints.
I think there was six or seven staying in the downstairs bedroom at home. He came in with a tray of whiskey. Pure skulduggery. Out to the kitchen then the next morning and a big feed for everybody. The things he did for me. He would have driven me back to Waterford – when I was in college there – on a Monday morning. Driven back to make work for 8am himself. That was the way he was.
He was very close to Edel. If I was away for a few days, he’d come over and collect the lads and drive them over to school. He’d go from Banagher to Durrow.
It all happened so suddenly but we’re left with great memories.
Over the years, I think we’ve lost a little bit about what the GAA is about. With the focus on money, on elitism. Instead of the brilliant community-based organisation and all the rivalries that go with it.
In Offaly, we’re spending so much time this week wondering about money. Everyone is going to be broke.
I hope when it’s all over, that there will be a discussion around what’s important. Do we need the massive backroom teams, the training seven nights a week? What’s best for the overall welfare of all our players?
We all realise at the time of a death and funeral that what’s important is family, friends and community. What’s important is human life. The vulnerable in our communities.
Whatever happens in terms of matches and Championship, I hope we can reset and recalibrate.