Forming connections through the GAA

On a particularly foggy day last Saturday, I travelled to Castlebar for the Connacht Junior Football Final. Lahardane, my late father's hometown, were competing, and I had a cousin on the team. Lahardane holds a special place in my heart, a place where I spent many joyful childhood summers and weekends under the shadow of Nephin along the shores of Lough Conn.

This parish has a historical connection to the Titanic, with many of its residents on board, including Nora Fleming, my granduncle Tony's wife’s sister. She tragically perished on the ill-fated night in April 1912, and was seemingly celebrating her 22nd birthday as the Titanic hit the iceberg.

Known as the Addergoole Fourteen, these individuals left Lahardane in pursuit of a new life in America. Three men and eleven women travelled 19 miles to the train station and then by train to Queenstown, now known as Cobh. Unfortunately, four days later, 11 of the Addergoole Fourteen had lost their lives, their bodies forever lost at sea. Despite the survival of the remaining three, none chose to return and live in Ireland.

The impact of this tragedy on Lahardane was unparalleled; proportionately, more individuals from this small village perished on the Titanic than anywhere else in the world. In a population of only 200, the loss of 11 lives went beyond mere tragedy—it tore the heart out of the community.

One survivor, Annie Kate Kelly, who escaped the Titanic, became a nun in Michigan but returned home in the 1950s to visit her family. She flew to Ireland—none of the local survivors would ever travel by ship again. Her memories of what happened on the ship have become symbolic to the residents of Lahardane, who used her account to commission a stained-glass memorial window for St Patrick's Church in the village.

The match, as I mentioned earlier, took place in MacHale Park, Castlebar, named after the most famous son of Lahardane, Archbishop John MacHale, whom Daniel O’Connell named the “Lion of the Fold of Judah.” In keeping with tradition and pride, the words “Lion of the Fold” appear on the Lahardane jersey beneath the club crest.

Lahardane emerged victorious, and like Castlerea last week, and St Brigid’s on Sunday, they were able to return home and celebrate their great achievement with their neighbours and friends. These club finals highlight the importance of local identity and the fact that the local GAA club—be it Castlerea St. Kevin’s, Éire Óg, St Michael’s, Lahardane Mac Hales, St. Brigid’s or any one of the over 2,200 GAA clubs on the island—is the place where we all belong. I was there because of my connection, and others were there because of theirs, but together we shared an experience due to some other connection we also had.

The match over and everything concluded in Castlebar, I jumped back into the car and made my way out the N5 for Ballaghaderreen. I was shocked by what I saw—or sadly didn’t see. It was still a foggy day, and visibility on the road was not great; in fact, in some places, it was quite poor. Yet, many cars were driving along without any back lights illuminated at all.

In this day and age, it is truly a safety concern to be driving on the road without having your rear lights on. While we all now have daytime running lights on our cars, it seems that in many vehicles, this only lights up the headlights. My own car has sensors that automatically turn on the rear lights if it’s sufficiently dark, but I find myself manually turning on the rear lights all the time. There should be no reason to be invisible to traffic behind, especially if they are travelling quickly on the road. Why can’t both back and front lights come on?

I travel on the road a lot; sometimes, I drive too quickly, and sometimes, I’m travelling slowly. I notice I’m never in a hurry driving to school, but I do seem to travel a bit quicker in the evening. If I’m going too quickly, I will be caught, but I don’t think too many people are dealt with for not having their rear lights turned on. It’s my latest pet hate.

A few more things are joining the list. One of them is the continued Americanisation of Ireland. We have just entered the season of Advent as we prepare for Christmas, and the eighth of December was traditionally the start of the Christmas season. The "country people" went to Dublin on the 8th, and the Christmas shopping was done. Not anymore—it's now "Black Friday" and "Cyber Monday" that we hear about. Next, we’ll be celebrating Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July. Is it just me, or are we in Christmas mode for too long?

As I reflect on what I’m writing, I wonder if I’m just entering a contrary age. The midlife crisis may have passed me by; I didn’t grow a beard or buy a motorbike, though, so maybe there’s still hope?