How I got started on this blog

When I heard that our grandson Neil had started a blog a year ago I had never heard of such a thing. But reading a few of funny things he wrote tempted me to write something that would interest my old clients.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly 

I had an email last week from a veterinary friend from Queensland.  I met him on two of the three trips I made to Australia after I retired during the nineties.  His name was John Murray.  I stayed with him and his partner Beverley Behm and I enjoyed their wonderful hospitality.  I had hoped that they would come to Yorkshire so that I could return their kindness.  It was not to be.  Poor Beverley died after a long and painful illness.  She had a way with greyhounds and trained many winners -- she is much missed.

I had been itching to go there for over forty years.  Jane and I wanted to go when we got married but our parents were not happy about losing us.  When we finally planned to go I was disappointed to be going alone.  Jane did not fancy the itinerary.  I also got a refusal from a few freinds who were interested in greyhounds.  For my first journey I was lucky to find the company of a dear friend called John McConnell.   He had a partner from Inishowen called Hugh Gill whose son Patrick is a close mate of our Warwick.  Together  John and Hugh had established a big business called Modern Plant Hire in Rugby.  John was a brave man to venture in my car on the 6,000 miles through Victoria and New South Wales with stops along the way wherever there was a greyhound track.  My interest in them was that in addition to their size and their sand surfaces they had other safety factors that reduced the injury rate associated with racing here.

When the sport was introduced there in a number of areas racing was staged over straight courses where injuries were virtually unknown.  Of all the those I visited I got most satisfaction from seeing racing on the lovely flat straights of Appin, Capalaba, Healesville, Kalpura, Wentworth and Wyong.  On all of those six I saw dogs weighing eighty pounds or more.  When I examined them many of them were completely sound showing no evidence of injury.  On British or Irish tracks I found a high incidents of injury in greyhounds weighing more than seventy pounds.  I have written many articles suggesting that breeders should have a financial incentive to breed from bitches weighing less than sixty pounds.  There was ample proof to support my views sixty years ago.  Many of the champion dogs under sixty five pounds and bitches under fifty five had long careers in the highest class.

The Aussies had a big country and consequently they were able to provide safer turns on their conventually shaped tracks than we could here in crowded Britain.  They were also able to have large circular tracks without any turn at all.

As a student in Dublin I thought that the Brits were mad about dogs.  When I first came to Britain after the war there were many Irish trainers and kennel men living with the dogs at the track kennels.  Their wages were painfully low. They were there because of their love for the dogs.  I was surprised to see that few others were concerned about the injured.  At the majority of venues there was no veterinary cover.  The injured were treated or put to sleep by the senior trainers.  When the going was dangerous in very cold or wet weather the greyhounds had to race.  A trainer who withdrew a runner out of concern for its welfare risked a servere penalty or dismissal without notice.  One of the kindest trainers I ever worked for was Charlie Lister OBE.  I often saw the tears of him and his late wife Valerie when they had one injured.  One evening in 2001when Charlie had two injured at Milton Keynes he was so upset that he withdrew two others.  The NGRC showed their sympathy by robbing him of £500.  

At tracks where a vet was employed he/she did not have the authority to cancel the meeting.  I learnt this when employed at my local track in freezing fog one evening  in 1957.  The hare driver could not see sufficiently to keep it at a safe distance in front of the runners and some of them sustained injuries to their legs.  For the next race he tied a flash lamp to the hare.  When that fell off the greyhounds again overtook it and only then was racing abandoned.  I reported the incident to the stipendiary steward - an ex Colonel.  All that happened was that the secretary of the NGRC was invited out for a meal by the promoter -- and I got the sack.

At that time I was na-ive enough to think that all of us would abide by our oath to give priority to the welfare of our patients.   The nearest vet  to me telephoned that he had taken my job because he could not leave the track without veterinary cover.    I thanked him for enlightening me because I knew some who took jobs because the salary enabled them to employ an extra colleague.    I was always in favour of a vet being employed at tracks and having authority to pass the surface as safe.   The NGRC did not insist on any such rule before '90.  They just did not have the power.

There used to be over two hundred tracks in Britain and the majority were independent.  In the early years of the sport the Greyhound Express covered the racing at Hackney independent track as well as that at all the NGRC tracks.  The NGRC threatened the Editor that they would withhold their programmes if he was to continue covering any independents.  Consequently all these had to stuggle to operate at a gross disadvantage.

 Olympic Horses and a Donkey called Whisky 



When I had a photograph in my blog of the child Rodrigo Pessoa with the sapling that his Dad selected at my kennels I should have mentioned that the first time I saw the adult Rodrigo was on television in 1992.  He was competing in the Olympic games in Barcelona and I was proud to see that he was on an Irish horse called Special Envoy.  Rodrigo's Dad Nelson had purchased him in Kilkenny after Marion Hughes had schooled and ridden him with success in competitions.

"Special Envoy was a remarkable horse, the first horse I mounted in the main GPs, he launched me in the great international circuit. I did my first World Championship with him, my first Olympics. I was lucky to have had many quality horses, but should I have to choose one, it would have to be him, for launching me in the great competitions." Rodrigo Pessoa

Rodrigo & Special Envoy '94

I myself never owned a racehorse but was brought up with riding ponies and horses and with horses that worked on the farm.  I also had donkeys from the time when I was four years of age I remained fond of them throughout my life.  They were humble creatures and willing workers.  They did not always receive the appreciation and care they deserved.  On visits abroad I sometimes saw them being ridden by men who were a stone or two too heavy for them in my opinion.  Some had hooves that were in need of trimming.  Others had sores resulting from ill fitting harness and others had homemade bits that hurt their lips.  As a vet I always felt a moral obligation to help creatures suffering abuse - free of charge -  because of ignorance or poverty of the owners.

After our children were able to walk Jane and I got a donkey.  We were on holiday in Galway with friends called Cecil and Molly Colahan.  They borrowed a donkey from a neighbour so that our eldest boy Walter could learn to ride it.  On the first evening it started to rain and Walter felt sorry for 'Whisky' as he was called, standing in the field with water dripping off his whiskers.  The only empty shed had been used for poultry and the dung on the floor was three feet deep.  Next morning Walter refused to come to the seaside with us.  He wanted to stay at home and clean the shed.  When we returned in the evening we were amazed to find a big mound outside the hen house and clean bedding scattered on the floor!  Whisky became more loved as the days passed.  On our last day tears were shed at the thought of leaving him behind.  Cecil went to the owners to know what would tempt them to part with him.  He returned with the news -- the price would be £3 and 10 bob back for luck!  When Jane asked how could we get him over to Rugby Cecil said it would be no problem. He would take him to Dublin in his trailer next week and add him to polled cattle in a wagon for a £1.  Indeed if he met a trainer taking a horse for a race the donkey would be welcome as company in the wagon.  Donkeys are noted for preventing horses getting worried and becoming seasick. 

Whisky became a popular attraction to people passing our field .  His he-hawing could be heard for a mile in all directions and parents were forced to bring kids to see him.  The older ones wanted a ride and Whisky was quiet and obliging.  When alone during daylight he would at intervals stop grazing and bray for a minute before looking to the west for another minute as if he was listening for a reply from some of his mates away over in Galway.   When I mentioned this possibility to Walter he suggested we should get another donkey.  From the shape of Whisky's teeth I knew he was well into his twenties when he came into our lives in '57.  As I had known one who died at 39 I felt no urgency about replacing him.   He remained healthy and mobile for three years until he died suddenly.   Then I asked my good friend and client Dan Horgan to look for a good looking sound in -foal mare under five years of age on his travels in Cork.   I heard nothing for 3 months.  It was December 20 '63 when I got the telegram :- "Your order is at Rugby station in the morning."  We decided to ask our good neighbour and farmer Mr Cummins to collect her and hide her until early on Xmas day so that the children would get a surprise when they woke up.

We called the donkey Maeve after the great Queen Maeve of Connaught said to have fought a war against Cuchulainn and his Ulster troops.  In the photo below you can see what a noble creature she was.  She is the one on the end ridden by the proud little girl.  She was the quietest, strongest and kindest of all the donkeys we had.  Mr Horgan once sent us twelve in a big lorry for local people who fancied having one of their own.  One of them had a non-painful condition called stringhalt in a hind leg.  Our good neighbours Lord and Lady Marsh  were among those who had given us an order.  I gave them first pick from the 12.  Lady Marsh was kind and sympathetic and chose the one that I thought might be difficult to sell.  Ten years later when she had moved to Goodwood we were invited to a day at their races.  We were glad to see the one with the limp enjoying retirement with a racehorse in a comfortable stable. 

My Jane was passionate about children. I helped her organise a sports day in aid of the handicapped every summer.  We had total support from friends like Bill and Nuala Mannion,  John Black, John McConnell, Mr Cummins, Keith & Mary Judge, Bill & Jane Bagshaw, John & June Meikle,  Bill & Geoff Dickens, Ray & Shirley Wisdom, Frank Russell, Ted & Daphne Townsend, the Boxers Johnny Williams, Billy Barber and Joe Leeming and many more. 

For  Maeve's first public appearance we put her with her foal in a tent and charged adults sixpence for seeing them.  The sports programme included donkey races with a change of jockeys after each race.  Attendances increased every year until our 3-acre field could not accommodate all the vehicles.  Luckily we got permission to move it to Rugby Town's football ground.  We were supported by members of the Town Council, the Police, St Johns Ambulance, the Dental and Medical professions and the Irish Club with their pipe and drum band.  Before moving away to Goodwood Lady Marsh used to declare the shows open.    Ted Williams used to leave his horses for the day so that he could come and judge the donkeys in the show classes and act as starter for the races.  Ted was assisted by Noel Cantwell, the great full back who cost United £29,000 - what was then a record price for a defender.  A few years later after he had captained them to win the FA Cup in '63 Noel and Maggie with the  melodious voice and their three children had become welcome visitors to our home. I always looked forward to hearing Maggie singing "The Hills of Donegal."  We can never forget the cruel tragedy they suffered after moving to Peterborough -   Robert their lovely boy was killed in a car accident at the age of twenty.

Another famous footballer who later swelled the crowd and acted as a judge for us was Alex Stepney.  This great goalkeeper  was chauffeured to Rugby by a great friend I had in Manchester called Jimmy Smith.   Jimmy raced many greyhounds at Belle Vue.

15 DONKEYS OUTSIDE MY SURGERY



This is the King who sired many foals for us.  He was a stylish trotter in the trap. 





  


Memories of friends that were not so lucky

Memories of friends that were not so lucky

One of the saddest aspects of old age is thinking of friends I have lost who were really honest, truthful and kind and whose lives included tragedy or were relatively short.  I already mentioned the two Doohan cousins I lost when I was a child. I also told you of a great pal John Sweeney who cycled to Dublin with me and died young.  As I grew up I was also friendly with another cousin called Eddie Roarty.  His Mother, Cassie, was sister to my Dad and lived in Falcaragh. Like Aunt Maggie she too was kind to me and my brothers and sisters.  During my final months at school I called daily on my way home to get an hour's grind from Eddie which helped me get a scholarship to St Eunans at Letterkenny.  The school master Martin Kelly was from Galway and he had a son called Kieran who played football with me for Falcaragh and St Eunans. Kieran became County Engineer for Meath and we remained friends until his death ten years ago.

My Dad was friendly with the few local Prodestant families.  He thought they were all honest.  He employed a local lad called Tommy Allcorn to work on our farm and he lived in our house.  Another Predestant family were the Smullens.  I was friendly with their two boys John and James.  Mr Smullen dealt in horses and sometimes left a few to graze on our fields.  I used to enjoy having a ride on those that I fancied.  When war broke out John told me that he was joining the British forces.  I wanted to go with him but my parents insisted on me remaining at the veterinary school until I qualified.  While I was happy in safe and peaceful Dublin I was shattered when to hear that poor John was killed in Italy.  My cousin Eddie who also joined up was captured in France.  He spent years as a prisoner of war.  On release he was in poor health and died young.

Wheatfield Rocket and a mad dash to Ramsgate

Mrs Pessoa told me of how clever Jack was.  I sometimes wondered how he would have fared on the track if I had kept him and would he have been too clever to chase a mechanical hare.  I did give his sibling a few trials on the track but he got injured and never had a race.  His Dad-Wheatfield Rocket was a very genuine runner in a brief racing carear.  Most of the races he ran in were on the independents.  I well remember his first under rules at about 18 months of age. It was an open puppy race at Dagenham.  The favourite was King Conquer an expensive puppy purchased by George Flintham in Ireland and trained by Jimmy Jowet at Clapton.  I led my fellow around the track so that he would not be fazed by the noise of the crowd.  He was ripping at the lid trying to open it.  When it did open he flew out and led all the way.  A great friend of mine called John Black from the banks of Lough Neagh, our biggest lake, was with me and backed him at 10/1.  I was putting Rocket back in the car when I saw John coming running with two thieves after him.  I yelled for help from the driver of a another van.  He was a big bloke with a stick.  The two little thieves gave up and John was able to get into my car with his winnings. 

I was keen on hurdle racing and I schooled Rocket over a pair of jumps that I made.  I used to take them with the dog in the van and go to Hinkley and Peterborough for trials.  The managers there, Joe Grant and Rex Perkins, were very obliging and generous with their time and my friend Jack West often came with me to help.  For his first hurdle race I entered Rocket for Hall Green on a Saturday.  They did not accept him--  he had no race form -- but they took him as a reserve.  On the morning there was a withdrawl and I got a phone call to bring Rocket along.  I could not fancy him as he was in against four old experienced hurdlers but he jumped over the first in front and stayed there!  John had a tenner on him and was as pleased as if it was a tonne.



Jack West





I had also tried to get him in a race at Ramsgate on the Monday but there again he was taken only as a reserve.  When it came to midday without the phone ringing I did not expect to be travelling. Then at one o`clock the call came.   I did not fancy the long journey alone.  John worked in a car factory ten miles away in Coventry.  I drove there without delay hoping he would get a half day off.  By the time we got through London we should have been kenneling the dog.  Instead we were still 50 miles away.  Just after Sittingbourne a lorry in front of us threw up a stone which smashed my windscreen.  I could see nothing.  Quick as lightning John took off his jacket and put it around his fist.  Instantly he smashed a hole through which I could see.  I remember the cold wind on my face as we pressed on as fast as possible.  As we entered the car park we could hear the hare going round and hoped it was not for our race.  An official came rushing out to meet us saying if you are Mr Sweeney come in quickly till I weigh your dog; you're in the next race.

 As I was approching the traps with Rocket I heard a bookmaker shout 6/1 Wheatfield.  The favourite for the race was a fast son of Ballymac Ball called Doran trained by Barney O`Connor for the famous Chandlers at Walthomstow .  On Saturday this experienced hurdler had broken the track record at White City and here he was drawn in trap one.  Our fellow was in three.  When the traps opened the two dogs came away together and took off simultaneously.  Rocket jumped high and to the left.  When he landed he had grabbed the rails position. He kept his advantage and stayed close to the rails and won in a photo! 

He was one of the most determined and genuine runners I ever had.  Sadly he had a fatal injury all too soon.  That was the most depressing aspect of owning greyhounds.  The tight turns caused many injuries particulaly to the wrists and hocks of the faster ones.  The slower and smaller were subjected to much less stress.  After losing a hundred of my own dogs I began preaching and writing about the need for circular tracks with bigger radii.  In thirty five years of racing the only track on which I raced greyhounds without incurring an injury was West Ham.  The turns there had a radius of 58 metres.  The other factor in trauma was the surface.  In the early days I remember peat on four or five but all the others had turf.  In wet weather the grass became cut up along the inner rail.  It was chuned into mud which offered no grip.  In dry sunny weather it became rock hard and did not allow the claws to grip.  In frosty weather it was not uncommon for promoters to scatter peat on the turns and commence racing.  Runners who came off lame might have toes dislocated or fractured or have nails ripped out.  Complaints from racegoers caused meetings to be abandoned but rarely before the fifth race had been run --so that entrance money would not have to be refunded.  I raced on three tracks where there was a canopy to protect the surface from heavy rainfall.  These were the original Crayford, Gosforth in Newcastle and Liverpool's White City.

About 1960 I learned that tracks elsewhere -- throughout the world - used sand and I began writing about its advantages.  Initially its reception was cool.  The first real supporter I had was the man I called Mr Greyhound.  He was the Tipperary genius Pat Dalton.  Apart from his experiences in Ireland he was successful with his runners at the bigger USA tracks.  He had crossed the Atlantic more often than anyone I know.  Like all great men he could not have got where he was without his great wife Ellen, their daughter and three boys.  The first British promoter to use sand was Tom Stanley of Rayleigh after seeing it while on holiday in Las Palmas.  When I heard of Tom's venture I telephoned him and entered a coursing dog I was training for Norman Donaldson of Morpeth called Curraroe.  I was quite impressed with what I saw.  Without a trial the dog handled the turns on the sand comfortably and won in a close finish.  In Britain the first of my clients to be interested was Joe Hayden of Coventry.  When he read my first article in praise of it I had three of his most expensive purchases in my hospital undergoing surgery.  He came and had a chat with me about how he could help to persuade promoters to change to sand. I put  a weekly advertisment -- SAND THOSE BENDS!!  in the Sporting Life and Joe paid for them.  The first promoters that we
converted were Leo Craven of Kings Heath and Bob Beckett of Bletchley.  This independant track was later called Milton Keynes.

Pat Dalton



Curraroe was one of the greatest dual purpose greyhounds I trained.  He had great conformation and he was very intelligent.  He was honest on the track but he never chased with the same enthusiasm that he showed in the field.  He made a great impression at Altcar in the '70 Waterloo Cup.  He had been hard run when he faced the eventual winner Rodney Magnet in the fourth round and only just failed to get the flag.  He was a great character in the kennels and very popular with my staff.  He was the only dog who gave the impression that he was laughing when we greeted him.  He was a great traveller and slept all the way to the tracks.  My boys often talk of him as "Marty".

Great horseman and a dog called Jack

 

Nelson Pessoa

In '93 Ted Williams - one of the bravest horsemen I ever knew - died at 81, after a month in Leicester Infirmary.   The large attendance of friends from show jumping, horse racing and greyhound racing at his funeral at Copt Oak on that sad Thursday was proof of his popularity.   There were few weeks  over 45 years  that Ted was not a competitor in a jumping event somewhere in Britain or overseas.  He won fame at many of the world’s major showgrounds on many stylish horses like Pegasus and Sunday Morning.  I remember an occasision when his horses stood on a top deck for four wet days before competing in a major show in Toronto after one days rest.  After Ted retired he continued to break and teach young horses to jump until he was 80 years of age. I gave up horse practice to concentrate on greyhounds in 1960 but I continued to help Ted with minor equine problems.  Ted loved a night at the local independant dog tracks and had the occasional runner.  In 1975 his winning of the Television Trophy at Monmore with the black bitch Lizzie's Girl was very popular.   Many winners and riders in show rings and on National hunt tracks had been schooled at his Nanpantan stables. Some of our greatest steeple-chase jockeys got valuable tuition from Ted.  He took them for a day with the Quorn foxhounds and let them follow in his slipstream. Ted was proud of his reputation  for never refusing to mount one known to have thrown younger  men.    He bore his terminal pain with fortitude.   As his strength ebbed away he wore the peaceful smile of a man without an enemy.   He had worked hard on every day of his life.   He could do no more.  All he wanted from me was to thank the hospital staff for their care and wish all his friends in show jumping, horse racing and the greyhound world good luck.

Ted Williams

Ted and our mutual friend Jack West came to my kennels one day with none other than Nelson Pessoa wanting a greyhound to accompany his horses to competitions.      I had  seen the famous Brazilian jumping in London after he came to Europe but I never imagined meeting him over a greyhound.   Because of my friendship with Jack and Ted I could not refuse to give him his choice from two litters of saplings I had.   Nelson  spent quite a while just looking at all of them.  Then he picked three for special attention.  He handled  and stroked them in turn.   He looked into their eyes while whispering to them in Portuguese.   It was obvious that he had a way with dogs just as he had with horses.   As he moved toward the exit gate he waved his hand at one and it followed him.   He told Jack it was the one he wanted – if it was for sale.  I told him  that being untried I had no value on it yet and he was welcome to it.    As I was lifting it into Ted’s trailer  I felt a bundle of tenners being pushed into my pocket by Jack.   Jack and his good wife Elsie were generous clients of mine.  In 1965 I bought a dog for them called Piper Apache from Eric Adkins.  Eric had made his money from building houses in Northampton, Daventry and Rugby and asked me to buy this dog after it had won the Clonmel Produce Stakes.  It won several races for him before he agreed to sell it to Jack.  By that time I had bought five or six others for him.  Jack and Elsie were regulars at Coventry,  Leicester, Long Eaton and Melton Mowbray dogs where they made a popular book and  never failed to put up a price.  They had no children but were always kind to ours and they treated their greyhounds and their Alsaitian guard dog like children.  When our Warwick was ten they gave him an avery with twelve canaries with melodious voices.  We shall always remember Jack as the only greyhound client who ever remembered me in his will.  

 Nelson and Mrs Pessoa called my sapling Jack and their son Rodrigo adored him.   He went in the horse box with them wherever in the world they were competing.   He was as popular with the public as the horses they came to admire in the stables after the shows.   Mrs Pessoa told me in a letter of their sorrow when Jack died of old age.   “He was by far the best dog we ever had, he was so intelligent and he loved to play with Rodrigo when he was a little boy.    He was a real character.   But at the end of a big show in Paris he once brought embarrassment on us.  Somehow he broke out of the stable and rushed into the ring where the band was playing before the presentation of the prizes.   All the staff tried to catch him.  They offered him biscuits.   He grabbed them but never allowed any stranger to touch him.  He was so clever.  When Nelson circled the ring after collecting his prize Jack ran with them at the same speed.   I could write a book about the funny things he did.”

Rodrigo and Jack

Donegal footballers reach the Promised Land

I grew up in a happy home with brothers Tony, Ted and Owen and sisters Carmel & Eileen.  Our Dad & Mama loved us and worked hard to provide us with the essentials.  Dad's sister Maggie and her husband Jimmie Doohan lived beside us in Drumnatinney.   Although their children were ten or more years older they treated us as if we were their own.     One of their loving girls Birdie wheeled me in a pram - that Dad made - to the sea-shore.  Later she nursed my infant sister Carmel.   From the time we learned to walk there were few days when we did not visit them.   Aunt Maggie ensured that we were never hungry and if the rain came she kept us overnight.   Jimmie taught me to ride on one of his quietest horses.   He thus helped to make me able to take a horse over the mountain road to a sale or show at Letterkenny when I reached ten years of age.

My only unpleasant memory of those days was having nightmares about dying.    Dad told me that I was affected by hearing of the loss of two cousins – precious sons of Aunt Maggie.   Before I was born Patrick contracted pneumonia from sleeping in wet clothes while working for a Derry farmer.    Within three years Eddie died from peritonitis in Maynooth while the surgical staff who might have saved him were on strike.   Then in 1925 the whole community were shocked by a calamity near Creeslough on a wild stormy night.   The train on the viaduct crossing the valley of Owencarrow was blown off and two men and two women were killed. 

As a schoolboy the only time I left home was when Dad took me to Glasgow to visit his brother Pat who was my favourite uncle.   Pat managed a pub there which belonged to another brother.  I was only six but I still remember my excitement standing on the deck of the big ship in Derry looking down at the cattle being driven into the hold.    On the crowded city streets I wondered at all the noisy traffic.   At the circus in the Kelvin Hall I was fascinated by the clowns, the horses and the dogs

 performing under the coloured lights in the big marquee.

To get to school or to the village of Falcarragh we had to walk nearly a mile.   It was a bit less if we went through the fields of the Ballyconnell Estate when the Kerry bull was not about.   I did not have a bicycle until I was ten.  Then I cycled the three miles to Gortahork.    Later I ventured further ..... to Gweedore, Dungloe or Burtonport or in the opposite direction to Dunfanaghy, Creeslough or Letterkenny.  When fifteen I went to Bundoran the popular seaside resort in the south of the county with Maurice Sweeney who I’m glad to say is still there.  Our mission was to see our county football team play Cavan who had just won the All Ireland for the second time.   Seamus Mac Loughlin joined us at Donegal town where he was working in a pub.

  My first venture out of the county was to Dublin in 1937 with Seamus and Maurice's brother John.  We were anxious to see the All Ireland football final between Cavan and Kerry.    We set out at dawn on Friday with bags to carry puncture repair-kit, buttered bread,  boiled eggs and tin-mugs for water.   About midnight we rested in a hay-barn on the Tyrone border near Aughnacloy.   Before the farmer woke up we were on the bikes again.   Near Drogheda we found another barn.   We managed the last thirty miles to Croke Park on Sunday and found room on the side-line before the kick-off.   After the match - which ended in a draw -  we went to see the lights of O'Connell Street before setting out for our "bed" at Drogheda.    It was late on Monday when we found the one at Aughnacloy again.     We did not complete the 360 miles return trip until the early hours of Wednesday.   My poor worrying mother remembered me falling into bed and staying there till Friday afternoon. 

   

Seventy five years later I was amazed when I considered that I was still following the fortunes of Donegal football.   They had progressed to becoming champions for the first time in 1992 when I had gone back to Dublin to see the match. In 2012 I heard that the final was being televised at the Irish club in Leeds.  Simon was delighted to drive Jane, Charley and myself.  The Hall was packed – mainly with Donegal supporters wearing green and Mayo people wearing red.  Mayo had not won for many years and most neutrals were cheering for them.  The game was fiercely contested right from the throw-in.  I pitied the ref.  When three or four were jumping for the same ball it was quite impossible to know whether the most aggressive was wearing red or green.  Murphy the Donegal captain seemed most ready for action.  In the third minute as a high ball landed in the square he brushed his marker aside and slammed it into the roof of the net.  Then Colm McFadden added a point and goal within the next eight minutes.  This left Mayo with a mountain to climb.  To their credit they fought back and continued to pick up points.  But the two McGees from Gweedore and all the defenders, the midfielders, as well as ChristyToye and the other reserves who came on to relieve those who had given their all and indeed every member of the squad can be proud of their tremendous efforts.  The final whistle went with the score at 2 goals and 11 points to 13 points in a sea of green flags flying in the breeze.  Great credit is due to Manager Jim McGuinness for the belief, discipline and determination he had instilled into every member of his squad.  The Mayo team and their supporters took their defeat in a sporting manner.  In the Irish club they shook our hands and wished us good luck.  It is they who deserve a change of luck because they have lost in ten finals.