Inside Track: Chance meeting with an old school pal at Breffni

Not everything you read on these pages can be taken as gospel. Look at last week’s offering. If travelling Dundalk FC supporters had believed what they read, they’d have ended up in the UCD grounds last Friday night instead of Finn Park.

And, as former Louth player, Terry Lennon, pointed out during the week, the All-Ireland final in which the Dublin and Galway footballers – Brian Talty among them – had a bit of a difference at half-time, was in 1983 and not ’74.

That much out of the way, now for something from the ‘believe or not’ category, which those whose names appear will testify

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As myself and my pal, Noel, travelled to Cavan we passed through Cootehill. The conversation must have been lagging, because for something to say, I said that when I was at school in Dundalk CBS, there was a chap there who came from Cootehill. End of story until one of us found something more interesting to talk about.

On parking the car we encountered a couple of Cavan supporters. I was dressed in the Dundalk Gaels’ colours, and on seeing the crest, one of them said: “Barry Watters played for your team.”

Barry was more than a useful forward, who lined out on the last occasion we reached a senior final. He’s from the oddly-named village of Drung.

That was only a sideshow to what was to come later. When the game was over I shook hands with my new-found friend from Ballyjamesduff. There then came a voice from the row behind.

“It’s great to be a Cavanman living in Dundalk,” he said, knowing I would pick up on it. I turned around and asked him where he was living in town.

“Avenue Road, and I went to school with your brother, Peter.” He was well muffled up and I didn’t recognise him. 

”What’s your name?” When he said Tony Rice, the penny dropped and I nearly did the same. It all came back to me in a flash.

“You lived in Muirhevna, and you’re from Cootehill.” I could also have told him his father worked with the ESB. We exchanged a few pleasantries, shook hands and wished each other luck.

This was the chap I had been telling Noel about on the way over, and this meeting was our first in over 60 years.

Maybe more, because I didn’t stay the distance in secondary school, and am now the grateful holder of a ‘Charlie Haughey’, which gets me a free pass from Willie McLoughlin or Maurice Murphy at Dundalk’s Clarke Station whenever I’m headed for Croke Park.