Preparing to move house, I came across an old photograph, taken 40 years ago in August 1986 at
Civil Service CC at the scene of a Merrion Junior Cup final win celebrating Brendan Whyte’s (RIP)
5 wicket haul against an Aer Lingus CC side. In that photo was Paddy McGeady (55 Anglesea
Road), Paul ‘Mits’ Hourihane (uncle of Joe and resident in Singapore), My late father ‘Dr. T’
sporting a cravat thinking he was still serving in the Royal Navy, Brendan Whyte, David ‘Fleeno
Hoop’ Heavey sporting his best Crockett and Tubbs look (Brother of John Heavey and resident in
Ca.) and Gareth Quinn who was conductor on the 46a and a great man for the ‘go ahead’ and free
trip into town. Not forgetting Barry Little’s mustard coloured Ford Escort in the background
inevitably having to give his brother a lift. Barry in the 70’s and 80’s worked for Gallagher Tobacco
and every league or cup win was greeted with Barry delivering a fistful of cigars to the winning
Merrion team – coming from D4, Merrion always had to look the part! It was the culmination of a 3
wicket win by Merrion 5th XI (chasing 35 – seriously!) to win my first ever trophy for the club I love.
I was 23 years old, it was my first year as captain (even before Heather Small thought us to
‘Search for the hero inside yourself’). In the teeth of a brutal recession in 1986, I also saw
managed to get a full-time job in Pearse Street; a literal weekly pay packet of £63 (small brown
envelope) which was usually emptied on bar of Kitty O’Shea’s on a Friday night and the remainder
in the Merrion bar on a Saturday night.
When my sons mention in passing that the music in 80’s was ‘really good’ – August 1986 was an
exception. The popular music charts in August 1986 were gripped with a smalzy concoction of
Lionel Ritchie (Dancing on the ceiling, Chris De Burgh’s Lady in Red. The kind of music that
drifted from the basement nightclubs in Leeson Street on balmy Saturday nights where the
contests of athletic youth on the cricket pitches around Dublin gave way after hours to more
hopeful strategies on the sticky dance floors fuelled with a bottle of Black Tower Liebfraumilch
(Our Lady’s Milk).
Life was simpler then, but the junior cup run of 1986 captured my imagination with 3 epic
encounters against Pembroke, Civil Service (semi-final) and Aer Lingus (final). The match against
CS was a particularly epic encounter with iconic junior players like aidan Kinsella, Paul Curley and
Gerry Kelly going toe-to-toe with our best. We set CS a modest total in their own ground on the
Saturday but rain interrupted proceedings and we returned on Monday evening to do battle. I
clearly remember cycling up to the ground (no one had the nonsense gear bags you have now)
and the outfield and pitch had been shorn with Gillette Fusion 5 blade to render a snooker table.
After a lot of protestations and Les Hewson (Bono’s uncle) claiming there has been no subterfuge
on the part of CS, emboldened us to beat them well in the end.
The final was held in Civil Service on Sunday August 24th against the previously mentioned Aer
Lingus CC. Brendan Whyte bowled supremely well to claim 5 wickets with further wickets by
Gareth Quinn and Al McKenna with great keeping by Richie Paul (uncle of Leah and Danny). Aer
Lingus weren’t there to make up the numbers Joe Connolly and Stephen Kelly had us in all sorts
of trouble but a very patient Al McKenna nurdled us home. And so, Leinster Cricket’s oldest
surviving trophy the Junior Cup first awarded in 1910 and first went to Anglesea Road in 1920 –
can you imagine in the teeth of the war of independence, bloody sunday in Croke Park the Junior
Cup was still played for and now, 66 years on holding the same trophy in my hands.
We returned to the club that evening, driving down the Quays, trophy aloft to the sound of ‘Don’t
Leave me this way’ by the communards on the car radios. Balls were rebowled and shots were
replayed until the wee hours – I think Eddie Lewis might have stayed until after 10pm! In the pre-
deliveroo days there was no late night munchies, we did like we always did in those days head to
the legendary Manhattan grill on Kellys Corner where feasting on Bloomsday-like grill of bacon,
nutty gizzards, liver and kidneys (with the faint smell of urine – or was that the toilets?) and
accompanied by many stainless steel pots of tea the remaining adult members of the team
rebowled the balls and replayed the shots until early morning.
The nutty gizzards could not be completed because the legendary John McGeady had
commandeered a bicycle outside and proceeded to start a peloton in between the tables of the
Manhattan grill and we had to leave.
Emerging blinking into the early Monday morning Dublin, the rain was coming down, work or
absence from work was being discussed and the rain got heavier. Monday 25th was the day of
Hurricane Charlie, where the exploits of the previous day were literally submerged by the flood
waters that Monday evening.
40 years on, the summer of 1986, the music might have been forgettable but the cricket was
remarkable.