Irish Daily Star - Inside Sport
It took me almost 20 years to come to terms with it...
PHIL QUINLAN ON RECLAIMING LIFE AFTER A BRAIN INJURY AND WRITING ABOUT IT ALL
HE was going to be an All-Ireland winner with Meath.
He was going to play rugby for Munster — having been born in Limerick — with the expectation that he’d go on to wear the green jersey.
He was going to run at the Olympics in an Ireland vest.
He was going to play soccer for Ireland at the World Cup.
It was all ahead of the teenage Phil Quinlan. That’s the way when you’re that age.
You’re young enough to dream, and Quinlan did plenty of dreaming.
Good
He was good at sport. Good at many different sports, but sport ended for him at 15.
He knows the date because how could he ever forget it.
November 26, 1989. Quinlan was a flying winger for Parkvilla, the best soccer team in Meath.
They were playing Torro United in Kilberry in the Leinster Senior League that day.
A foggy morning, a game that few knew or cared about, but one that would change Quinlan’s life.
A corner kick. Quinlan took up his usual position. The ball came in and it was between Quinlan and his marker.
They both jumped. There was a clash of heads. Quinlan went to ground and, when he got up, he was staggering.
He played on, though, until half-time when it became clear something wasn’t right.
Early in the second half, it was Kerr Reilly, the Parkvilla bus driver, who noticed that Quinlan had fallen asleep in the dugout and there was blood coming from his ear.
He was rushed to hospital and it was quickly clear he’d suffered a serious brain injury.
Quinlan would never kick a ball again. He’d never
runagain. His right side was paralysed — hemiplegia.
He came home in a wheelchair. Eventually, he learned to walk, but his unsteady gait led to bullying.
He kept on keeping on and has detailed his extraordinary life in a new book ‘A Bang On The Ear’, published by
O’Brien Press.
“I broke my hip in a stupid fall in Bettystown in 2016 and I was off work for the guts of three months so decided to start writing,’’ he said.
“I managed 80,000 words, just for the craic, and to leave the kids, Eileen and Joe, some kind of a legacy, if you like.
Reject
“I sent it to a few publishers. Reject, reject, reject. It was a bit like my teenage love life.
“Nobody wants a bloke with a wobble, everybody wants to fit in.
“But I kept going and rang Steve O’Rourke, who used to work for the 42.ie and asked if he knew of anyone who might help with it, and he said ‘Oh, I’d love to do it’.
“We met up and he just listened, he said he wanted to get an idea of what my story is and what my voice is like.
“He got rid of a few thousand of the 80,000 words and I’d written in a format of A, B, C, telling the story sequentially.
“He changed it to Z, R, M, U, B, because that was the way my brain worked.
“I was scared at the
start because he so was into my brain and showing what it’s like living in my brain and I think we’ve captured that very well.’’
Quinlan had sporting dreams but so do most of us. It’s athletics that he misses the most.
“I’d have been a runner. I ran for Meath at Under-12 and Under-14 in the Leinster crosscountry.
“The first time, I did a Zola Budd and ran barefoot,’’ he said.
“There was nothing to do in the ’80s but run and play games outside. Even when we lived in Zambia, climbing my tree was my Xbox.
“That’s what is hardest now. You see all these people doing 5ks and 10ks and marathons, I’d love to be running.’’
Losing a sporting life means you go through a kind of grieving process.
It was one that took Quinlan a long time to put behind him.
“It took me the guts of 20 years — until I met my wife, Helena — to come to terms with it,’’ he said.
“I was in chronic pain with my back because of my awkward gait. I couldn’t get a comfortable way of walking, so the pain didn’t help.
“But acceptance ... I only probably accepted it fully about 10 years ago.’’
Sport gave him highs and lows. There was the time when he went to Dublin’s Hill 16 pub to watch a Liverpool game and the barman refused to serve him, saying that Quinlan was drunk.
The embarrassed Meathman had to explain he was stumbling because of his disability.
He is a special needs assistant now but, in his younger days, he covered a few matches for the Meath Chronicle and took a punt on heading to Australia for a spell.
His old teacher, Colm O’Rourke, was managing the Ireland International Rules team on tour there and he had a ball covering their exploits.
On the horizon were the 2000 Olympics in Sydney and that became Quinlan’s goal.
He knew media accreditation was a pipedream so he applied to be a volunteer. It was a lottery, but Quinlan got the golden ticket.
Quinlan, more than anything, wanted to be in the stadium for Sonia O’Sullivan’s 5000m final.
He wasn’t down to work there, and there was no way of getting a ticket as Australian icon Cathy Freeman was racing for gold that night too.
Dash
But he hung outside and got lucky. Many locals left after Freeman’s race and, in the crowd, he sneaked inside, hiding in a toilet until the start of O’Sullivan’s dash for silver.
Sport is even tied up with Quinlan’s memories of losing his virginity to a French woman. While she slept afterwards, he read Paul McGrath’s autobiography.
And sport gives him moments that light up his days.
“I got involved with the U9s at Parkvilla and we play in all weather cages,’’ he said.
“I have my back to the cage wall and am holding on to the bars for dear life, roaring the kids on.
“I slag them off and have a great laugh with them. Last week, one of the fellas scored a cracker of a goal and he ran the length of the cage with his arms out to give me a hug.
“Every goal is a World Cup winner for them. It’s special to see their faces.”
‘I was scared at the start because he so was into my brain and showing what it’s like living in my brain and I think we’ve captured that very well...’