Francis Brennan
21st March, 1966 Dear Aunt Annie,
Hope your trip back to Cork was uneventful and that you enjoyed your weekend in Dublin. I never shared with you how my first day ever at sport turned out.
As you know I am not at all sporty, but being in First Year at Catholic University School, Leeson Street, afforded me lots of choice. Now, not liking the rough and tumble, rugby was out. However, the sport of cricket caught my eye. Of course, I had no clue what it would entail, except that I had seen the players dressed in style on TV, so it was much to my liking!
I headed off to Elvery’s, one of Dublin’s top sports stores, and I viewed what was on offer. Within 30 minutes I was fully fitted out — white short-sleeved shirt, V-neck striped sweater and wonderful-looking Gatsby-style long, white trousers. The appointed hour of engagement was after school at Anglesea Road Cricket Ground, under the full eye of Fr Matthews, our German teacher at school. Well now my ‘Klein ’and‘ Heil’ were never great, so I could see a big challenge ahead.
We all assembled, say 15-20 of us, when Fr Matthews arrived. I had expected to be immersed in the theory of cricket, but no, we were all dispatched to various positions about the ‘pitch’, or whatever they call it! I found myself out on the periphery of things, close to the banks of the River Dodder. Now it was March, and as any Dubliner will tell you there is a wind that comes off the Three Rock Mountain that would ‘skin ye’.
Well there I was being ‘skint’ while everyone else seemed to be very busy, at what I didn’t know. After about 40 minutes of inaction, where I might be like Lot’s Wife and freeze up, suddenly I realised the ball was heading my way at a pace.
As it got closer, there were hoots and hollers from the assembled ‘team’, but I, finding the better part of valour, decided that a ball at that speed could do damage and stepped back to watch it hit the wall and sail off into the Dodder. Whereupon a huge roar went up and I turned to see what for, for as far as I was concerned someone might have scored or something, I was as ignorant of the rules as an elephant!
The roar was accompanied by a stampede of lads, led by Fr Matthews, in my direction. When the horde arrived, Fr Matthews pulled me up off the ground by my new sweater to his face level and says: “What the f**k do you think you are doing? You are supposed to catch the ball and throw it to number five!”
I did not even know people had numbers, and could see none visible on anyone. Also, I was in shock at the thought of a priest using bad language! For I come from a background of no bad language in any of my encounters to date. So, I replied to Fr Matthews: “Did you use bad language?” “Yes,” he said, “and I’ll use a lot more of it if you don’t catch the ball.” Then he hit into me to ‘effin’ get over that ‘effin’ wall and retrieve the ball or else! So, I replied: “Or else what?”. Whereupon he went for me. Only, I jumped back and said: “Fr Matthews I have decided that cricket is not for me. First of all I’m frozen, secondly, I was nearly knocked out by a flying ball and thirdly, I am not keen on the use of bad language. So I’m finished!”
I then walked off the pitch, to stunned silence, as no one ever seemed to have stood up to Fr Matthews previously! I changed my clothes, came home and so ended my sporting life. See you soon, Francis