The following piece comes courtesy of Jimmy Deery, formerly of the Drumcaw, Newblisss, who was in his youth an underage player with Killeevan, with whom he won an under sixteen championship medal. On reading the history of the Killeevan club published back in 2016, to coincide with their centenary Jimmy was prompted to pen a piece where the outcome was an imagined one, although the game was very real in his mind, something akin to Kavanagh’s iconic piece Gut Your Man. Like a lot of people back then in the 1950s Jimmy Deery emigrated to England, but later returned to Ireland and set up home in Dungannon, County Tyrone, along with his wife, Mary, a native Ballybay. The footballing connection extends to his new home where his oldest granddaughter married the son of the great Tyrone player Eugene McKenna and their son, Darragh, Jimmy’s great grandson looks, like carrying on the great tradition as he has represented St Patrick’s Academy Dungannon in MacRory and Hogan Cup competitions a few years back. Jimmy himself still follows Monaghan football and feels that the County is overdue another Anglo Celt Cup or maybe a Sam Maguire, although as he says himself, that may only happen when he goes to sleep at night after too much porridge the

Cluxton and me

I could see the fear in his eyes as l advanced on him. A beautiful curling pass had been delivered to me from young Darragh Mc Kenna on the left wing, (he was believed to be the first ever great grandchild to be playing with his great grandfather and father in the same Monaghan team). They had been recruited by Banty Mc Eneaney, from Tyrone their home county. He argued that some of the Mc Kenna family had strayed across the narrow border from Monaghan into Tyrone in the eighteen hundreds and bought a nice farm so Niall Mc Kenna was probably a great great grandchild of theirs and qualified under the same rules that Jack Charlton applied to his very successful Ireland soccer team in the nineteen eighties and nineties. You do remember, “Oo, ah, Paul Mc Grath" and 'put them under pressure' and 'give it a lash' and "Oh lay, oh lay, oh lay." The wonderful Jack was like a messiah and could have become our first English/Irish president if he had stayed around, God rest him. Others said Banty had to pay a large transfer fee to Tyrone GA.A.

Monaghan county team had shown great improvement by the addition of the Mc Kenna boys coming from a history of three all stars and a collection of MacRory and Hogan cups and of course the Deery factor one medal for under sixteen Monaghan county championship, more of that later, and had breezed through Ulster and narrowly defeated a strong Leitrim team who had surprised everyone in the Connacht championship. Rumour had it, they had recruited Alex Ferguson to their backroom team and he had been seen, (in disguise) at some matches and whisked off to Knock airport afterwards.

I shrugged off a fiery tackle from Philly McMahon (probably Monaghan connections too) and steadied myself to pull the trigger, as the soccer commentators say. I drew back my leg and let fly but was rudely awakened by a loud screech from my sleeping partner. "What in the name of God are you at, you have just sent the duvet flying and kicked me in the backside?"

"I was playing for Monaghan there and was just about toscore in the last minute to win the All-Ireland when I got no further, "Some hope of that," the sarcastic comment, as I struggled to entangle myself from the sheets.  "Next time you get to play for Killeevan or Monaghan go and sleep in the spare bedroom." "Did you know that Killeevan won the county championship in 1944 ," I replied.  "Well did you know that Ballybay won the same O'Duffy cup eight times? " the reply. Such treatment after sixty years of happy marriage I thought, but instead apologised and helped to straighten the bed . Drifting back to sleep again I hoped I would be able to pick up the continuation of my football match and silence that baying crowd on hill sixteen. A goal would win the match for us. So much for dreams, how about my real footbaII career? Like many other young fellas it started in the school yard at Drumacoon school. Our parish had won the county championship in nineteen forty four, (mentioned twice you'll see) so we were all buzzing. We were playing soccer of course, (illegal and even thought sinful at the time) and I had just scored the second goal from a placed kick. We were playing with a wee hard sponge ball and the goal was being disputed. Pat Sewell told me I was like Johnny Carey which even I thought was a bit of an exaggeration. Johnny had captained Man United for three or four years and starred for Ireland. "Best shot I ever seen," one of the others confirmed, but I was deflated by Jack Finnegan who said the shot was well over the sleeve of the jacket that acted as a goal post and was wide. The dispute continued until the bell rang to return to the classroom. Progress continued at home where we took over part of one of our meadows and stuck up crude goalposts and Daddy complained we were tramping the grazing needed for the cows. We all took famous footballer's names when we played so I was Paddy Prendergast who was on the last Mayo All Ireland winning team, before the curse. What a name! We couldn't afford a football so we used the bladder of a pig that was killed for bacon. Tommy Clerkin a cobbler covered it in soft leather, Oliver Nicholl took a feather from a goose, used the thick quill end and blew it up, with his mouth, unhygienic, I hear you say, Tommy then laced it up, it lasted until we kicked it to shreds. O'Neill number five how are you? Things improved when wee Father McCarron, a keen footballer bought us a proper football and we cobbled together a team to compete in the county championship.

The first few matches we won easily enough but coming up to the final we had a practice game against Monaghan town. They beat us by sixteen goals and ten points to one point. Our manager, an early version of Jose Morinho decided we needed strengthening in the backs. I was told that Pat Lynch three years my senior and sprouting a beard and moustache would become Jimmy Deery playing in the half backs. Another recruit was Billy Mc Coy who had a barrel chest and delighted in chesting a dropping ball ten to twenty feet into another player's hands. I have never seen the technique repeated anywhere except in soccer with a well placed header. There were a few more imports who happened to be home on holidays from school or England. So when the 'under sixteen' team took the field it was just as well birth certificates were not required. By the looks of the opposition we were not the only ones acting up as it were.

During the match I had to pretend not to hear the boss, soccer again, blasting my performance from the sideline in some choice language, "Would you for***** sake waken up Jimmy Deery you are standing there like a ** duck in thunder" , Pat was having a bad game after been clattered by a big centre half who could have replaced Cian Healy on the Ireland rugby team. I fancied myself as being more like Johnny Sexton. I shuddered at another outburst and blest myself, just as well my saintly mother wasn't in the crowd.

Anyway, we won and we were taken to a local pub/restaurant where we were treated to sandwiches and the cup was filled up with fizzy orange. Pat Lynch/Deery and chesty Mc Coy and a few other senior men complained that it wasn't Guinness.

Ours was a small parish so at seventeen I was drafted into t senior Intermediate panel. I played in all run up matches but again missed the final, waiting in the subs.

Not being able to find work, except on the home farm I emigrated to England like so many young fellows and football took second place. I took to watching Aston Villa home games every second Saturday as I lived near the ground. The skills of some of the great players including Peter Mc Parland from Newry and a Down county minor just amazed me, so later when I turned out for the hospital team I thought I could do the same thing. A heavy wet ball weighing about half a stone which I met head on put an end to that idea and landed me on my backside dazed for ten minutes, (no concussion checks at that time). My career thereafter fizzled out except on warm nights when my dreams are most vivid.

Oh, I'm sure you are wondering, did I score that goal? Of course I did because how else would Monaghan have won their first Sam Maguire, the first of six in a row as I recall just before my retirement in 23??

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