The magic of conjuring up All-Ireland tickets
The miracles aren’t restricted to the Croke Park pitch today
Dublin play Kerry this afternoon in a football game. It’s the same as so many others for Larry. A source of stress and time for magic in the weeks and days beforehand. For almost 60 years he has performed miracles and he hasn’t wanted any thanks. Actually he’s usually shunned it. One summer a woman had a Mass said for him. Others have dropped by bottles of spirits. One enterprising chap used to leave him some pheasant that he had hunted.
All because he got them tickets.
Money is rarely the issue on All-Ireland final Sunday. The prices aren’t terribly cheap, but low enough that demand is unimaginable. With hundreds of applications from his club, Kilmacud Crokes, alone, Larry has to conjure up miracles. For more than 30 years he couldn’t even guarantee one for himself. He would always find a way.
The closest he came to missing an All-Ireland, when healthy, was in 1989. Cork were playing Mayo, and it was only hours before throw-in that he finally got one for himself. He’s missed one or two since then, but his service was recognised by the club – they make sure he has a seat if he needs it.
The phone calls were the worst of it. In a full house, Carmel was the gatekeeper and his driver. Larry never got a licence and the kids are all out of home now. Carmel still drives him to Parnell Park to collect the tickets. She’s driven him all over the country looking for extras and not just ahead of All Ireland finals. The Kilmacud Crokes 7s and Larry’s own longevity in the GAA had built up a wealth of contacts.
If Larry was driven to their doorstep, he had a better chance of wrangling the extra one or two. Roundwood was never a fun drive for Carmel – she didn’t get a power steering car until well into her 60s – but she brought him there and so many other awkward-to-reach spots.
Things have got better. For starters Larry isn’t risking his safety when he goes to collect the tickets. It used to be on Belvedere Place, an open spot and he’d be walking out with up to £2,000 in old money worth of merchandise and that would be just the face value. In the hands of a tout, it would rocket.
Parnell Park is safer, plus there are actual security windows. The county board has got smarter. The demand has only increased. The expansion to Croke Park has made the early rounds easier, but come the business end of the season, especially if Dublin are involved, Larry’s got to have a lot of patience. Carmel doesn’t need to worry about that, she’d murder you in a game of poker with her cool head.
They both always had one fear. One paralysing thought. The horror of 2006, when Larry had to deal with a Dublin vs Mayo semi final for the first time in 20 years, killed the couple’s phone bill. Luckily, one of the kids was working from home, and the rent agreement was that if he covered the phone bill all was well. Then the darkest day came.
Mayo beat Tyrone and Dublin beat Kerry. They were going to meet in the final. That Sunday in 2013 would test him like no other. Larry didn’t go – he wasn’t feeling the best – but he went to war for those around him. That Saturday in Kilmacud, he sat on his stool at the top of the steps in Glenalbyn.
He doesn’t walk as easily as he used to. His last outing for the club as a player had been aged 60, in 1995, when he lined out in a Corn Fogarty match for the intermediate hurlers. He was meant to be the manager, but if they didn’t have 15 men on the field for part of the game with Thomas Davis, then they would forfeit.
Larry had come to the game straight from work with Telecom Eireann, and he squeezed into a jersey. The dress shoes and slacks stayed on. He grabbed a hurl and lined out for ten minutes of the second half before the ref accepted Crokes had fulfilled the fielding requirement. Crokes won the game and, later, the cup.
Larry didn’t accept his winner’s medal. He was just doing what his club needed, he didn’t see it as any different to the tickets.
So he sat on that stool and held court like a reluctant Don Corleone. People came over to thank him, even those he hadn’t been able to sort that time just because he had sorted them previous times. He was embarrassed, but enjoyed the conversation.
The 7s have long been his baby, he can’t go to as many games any more, but Carmel still brings him to as many as possible. The 7s, oh, he wouldn’t miss those for the world.
Now it’s Sunday. Many will go without tickets today, and many more would have done so too, but for Larry’s miracles and Carmel’s saintly assistance. One day, it will end. I just hope that the folks in Crokes don’t expect me to replace Dad on ticket duty when it does.