The Parish Cup – A Short Story
Little Johnny was mad about Gaelic Football. He knew the colours of every county; he knew the colours of every club in the county. He knew how many senior county titles each club had won. He was the first boy to turn up for under-12 training every Wednesday. He would have made a great player – if he were not so sickly and thin. Johnny had one dream, he wanted to play in the Parish Cup.
The under-12 Parish Cup game was played each June. The game was played between a team from the western end of the parish against a team from the eastern end of the parish. It was every boy’s dream to win the Parish Cup. It was a-right-of-passage. The winning side back-boned the clubs underage teams until the boys turned 19 and left the minor grade.
There were two curates in the parish. In an effort to put a stop to the fighting that broke out each year, before, during and after the Parish Cup game, Paddy O’ Sullivan, the club chairman had asked the curates to each manage a team.
This was the third year that the curates were in charge of the teams. The idea had been a qualified success. But there was still fighting on the side-lines and to add to this, there was now extreme tension between the two curates in the Parish House.
Little Johnny lived in the eastern side of the parish. Fr Murphy was in charge of the eastern team. Unlike Johnny, Fr Murphy knew very little about football but he felt that he had to carry out his duty for the good of relationships in the parish.
Fr Condon was the other curate. He was a former county minor footballer and many people said that he would have made the county senior team if he had not chosen to join the priesthood. His team, the western team, had benefitted greatly from his coaching and football knowledge. Fr Condon took every opportunity available to remind Fr Murphy that the eastern team had no chance of winning this years Parish Cup. To complicate the matter for Fr Murphy, the eastern team had only 16 players available; and one of them was Little Johnny.
Fr Murphy felt sorry for Little Johnny. As a reward for his interest and loyalty, Fr Murphy made Little Johnny the vice-captain and first sub on the team. Training had gone well but the world and its mother knew that there was little hope of the eastern team beating Fr Condon’s stars in the Parish Cup.
The last Saturday in June was the traditional day for the Parish Cup. This was the week before the national school broke up for the summer holidays. Because the western team were such strong favourites there were very few fights in the schoolyard in the run up to the game.
The same could not be said of matters in the presbytery where Mrs McCarthy, the housekeeper, had to intervene to stop Fr Murphy and Fr Condon from coming to blows.
“Ye’ve no chance. Ye might as well give in now.” Fr Condon shouted after Fr Murphy as he stormed out of the presbytery. Deep down, Fr Murphy knew that Fr Condon was right. Only divine intervention could save the eastern team from a hammering.
Things got worse on the morning of the game when the eastern goalie, John Fitzgerald, came down with the mumps. John Fitzgerald was a fine goalkeeper and his kick out was worth its weight in gold to the eastern team as it regularly travelled 40 metres.
With his goalkeeper confined to bed, Fr Murphy had no choice but the call on his vice-captain and first sub, Little Johnny, to fill the role between the posts. There were groans of disappointment among the eastern team when Fr Murphy told them the news.
“We don’t need a goalkeeper anyway,” said Tommy. He was the team captain and centre-back. “Sure, we’ll play ‘em with 14 players. Little Johnny can still be vice-captain.”
“You cannot talk like that Tommy”, said Fr Murphy. “God has a reason for all these things. You must concentrate on the game and do your best. Come on now, we’ll say a prayer that everyone will have a great game and that the best team will win.”
Tommy looked over at Little Johnny and then looked back at Fr Murphy and said, “It’ll take more than a few prayers to win this one Father!”
“Now Tommy where’s your faith?” said Fr Murphy.
“It’s in bed sick with John Fitzgerald” Tommy replied.
There were howls of laughter when word reached Fr Condon and the western team that Little Johnny would be playing in goal for Fr Murphy’s side.
When the two priests met on the field before the game, Fr Condon said to his fellow priest, “Ye had no chance before ye’er goalie got sick, ye haven’t got a prayer at all now.”
However, Fr Murphy had become strangely calm and he quietly replied, “Never underestimate the power of prayer.” At this point Canon O’Connell, the Parish Priest, intervened. “I expect both of you to show good example here today. Behave yourselves or Mrs McCarty will serve ye nothing but black tea and dry bread from here ‘til the 15th of August.”
Then he added, “I have spoken to the headmaster. I am fed up of the savage carry on of the people of this parish over this silly game every year. I am taking the whistle for today’s game. If anyone so much as questions one of my decisions, I’ll call a two-week mission and that will soften their cough.”
As the parish priest strode away to the centre of the field Fr Condon smiled and said to Fr Murphy, “T’won’t matter much, ye haven’t a prayer.”
The game was due to start at five ‘clock, but it stared nearly 10 minutes late because a suitable pair of boots had to be found for the Canon. As the teams lined up the Canon looked at the crowd along the side line and roared out loud, “Twenty minutes each half with a 10 minute break, I expect no bad language, and no fighting. Is that understood?” There was a reluctant murmur of agreement from the crowd.
Fr Murphy had packed the eastern team defence in order to protect Little Johnny in the goal. Up front, he had pinned his hopes on Paddy Canty the centre forward. “If Canty can get a few goals, he might keep us in the game” he thought.
Maybe it was because the western boys were very cocky, but the eastern team played well during the first half. The defence was standing up to the pressure and Little Johnny never had to go near the ball. Paddy Canty had kicked two goals, the eastern side only trailing by two points at half-time. Canon O’Connell insured that the game was played without interference from the sideline.
The second half began at twenty minutes to six o’clock. The western team dominated possession but the eastern defence ensured they could not get a shot at Little Johnny in the goal.
Time was ticking away and the tension was mounting. A fight broke out on the sideline and Canon O’Connell briefly stopped the play and admonished two mothers.
With two minutes to go, the eastern team were only one point behind. Then Tommy, the eastern captain rooted the ball up the field. Paddy Canty caught it and ran through the western defence to score a goal.
Could the eastern team hold out and cause the biggest upset in the history of the parish? What excitement!
The westerns made one more sortie on the eastern goal. For once, Tommy the captain was out of position. The western team broke through. There were three of them, bearing down on the goal with only Little Johnny to beat.
A big ginger haired lad had the ball; he was only 10 metres out from the goal. He fired a rocket. Little Johnny turned his back. The ball hit him between the shoulder blades but the ricochet flew into the arms of another western forward. All he had to do was kick the ball into an empty net.
Just then the Angelus bell began to toll.
There was a loud shrill from the whistle from Canon O’Connell. “Say your Angelus” he roared. The entire crowd stopped; the players stopped too and Canon O’Connell began “The angel of the Lord …” everyone responded.
By the time the prayer was finished the entire defence of the eastern team had surrounded the western forwards. The shot was smothered and the ball was cleared.
There was another blast of the Canon’s whistle to signal the end of the game. The eastern team, Fr Murphy, and Little Johnny had won the Parish Cup in the biggest upset in the history of the competition.
The Canon walked off the field amid the cheers of the eastern supporters and the sobbing of the western players. Fr Condon was fuming. He ran across the field and grabbed Canon O’Connell by the arm.
“You robbed us,” Fr Condon cried. “You robbed us.”
The Canon looked down at where Fr Condon was still holding his arm. Fr Condon realised the enormity of this act and let go of the Canon’s sleeve. Then the Canon spoke. “On the contrary Fr Condon, I did no such thing. You see Fr Murphy may not know much about football, but he does know one thing, a little prayer can go a long way. In fact you could say, he was saved by the bell.”
The basis of this stroy was told to us years ago, when I was a student in St Finbarr’s Farranferris, by my teacher Fr Denis O’Sullivan (later PP of Clonakilty and Bantry) His story was about a referee blowing the whistle during a game when the six o’clock bell rang to allow the players and spectators say the Angelus prayer.
This story appeared in my column in the Evening Echo on Dec 21st 2011. I wanted to do something different for my Christmas week column.