Gus Cremin - R.I.P.

[mandad]

James 'Gus' Cremin, Kerry football Legend and the oldest surviving All Ireland medal holder has passed away aged 93. 'Gus' of Ballydonoghue was the hero of the 1946 final replay against Roscommon. He captained Kerry in the drawn game, was only a sub in the replay but came on and scored the winning point. His high fielding was legendary. In Kerry's victory song Bryan McMahon describes him like this:-

I pledge you now Gus Cremin tall, that lithe Lisselton lad,
Who, fleet as deer, had gripped the sphere and drove all Ireland mad,
Who scored the final flaming point and crashed Roscommon’s plan –
For who can beat the Kingdom sweet for horse or hound or man?

My first memory of Gus was away back in the mid 50's when my late father pointed out himself and Eddie Dowling to me at a cattle fair in Listowel. I had already formed a mental picture of these heroes from 'round the fire stories told by my elders of the 'jiggery-pokery' about the captaincy in '46. He was then a tall humorous man, light of step, who avoided adulation as if praise was a storm of rain to get out of. My last meeting with the gentleman was in the Bons in Tralee this year, but he was now getting about in a wheelchair. Time had taken it's toll.
Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.

[Deleted]

Very Sad RIP Gus

[ballynamona]

Very sad news RIP.

There is a great photo in Princes of Pigskin of Gus, Mick Finucane and Eddie Dowling (RIP). It was taken in 2006 or so for the book. Extraordinary for a club like Ballydonoghue to produce three players of that calibre at the same time.

One nice postscript to his 1946 misfortune was that in 1984, he was recognised by the GAA as a captain owing to his having captained the side in the drawn game.

RIP Gus.

[kerryexile]

My late father told us about Gus. When I read this it took me back. Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.

[Ballyfireside]

Gus was a pillar of three of Kerry's finest traditions, farming, football and dogs, winning an Irish Greyhound Derby with "Kerryman", so he even knew he had a good one at the christening. Now that's what you'd call "having a good eye for a dog"!

Matching such 'classic' names with 'classic' progeny defies the world's bloodstock industry today, yet here was a hobby, doggy-man hitting the nail on the head; well quiet a few nails on the head actually as there was also the small matter of sire selection, and then to identify the right one in the litter for such a special name. And that was all only for starters.

‘Poacher turned gamekeeper’ had him refereeing an All Ireland Minor Final and anyone who knew him could see that he would be cut out for such a role, in the true and wider sense, in every sense.

Didn't his likes always make the poet's job easy; reason is easily rhymed; they walk the walk, others talk the talk.

Luck struck again and right at the long whistle with his family on Spin The Wheel in the same week.

As a neighbour's child I experienced first-hand his sense of humour and he’d rise you in a nice kind of way, encouraging while cautioning a keen garsún on the realities of life. From the straight and narrow he showed us how to round the bends and scale the dizzy highs.

GUBU it all was, is; Gus, Unbelievable, Ballydonoghue, Unprecedented!

RIP Gus.


GUBU -dedicated to Gus Cremin
The year of the bad harvest for some,
but bumper, vintage crops would we enjoy.
The more the odds be stacked against him,
the bigger the ask, the harder he tried.

Cleared the corn fields of Ballydonoghue,
last grain of golden harvest saved on Saturday night.
Summoned the following day to Croker,
singled-handedly swept silverware, harvesting Sam Maguire.

Hurricaned from the 60,
through cloudy autumn sky.
A last minute pressure kick,
the greatest ever All Ireland winning point.

Our Polo era three,
their honour would be denied.
When presenting for decoration,
the figureheads would not oblige.

Such soldiers of passion,
nothing they wouldn't sacrifice.
Role models for future generations,
the standard for success would they define.

Poacher turned gamekeeper,
youngsters would Gus guide.
Hell for leather, within the rules,
only sportsmanship would he prescribe.

Owner, trainer and handler,
of hound he bred and baptised,
A man's best friend and another Kerryman,
partners in crime claiming a Doggy Derby from the 525.

At full circle, a third raid on the pot,
the Lotto falls from Heavenly high.
Rolling up the sleeves increases the chances,
the final test of a man be to inspire.

Now retired for well earned rest,
but invincible spirit doesn't die.
If times get tough, then kith, kin and clan need only ask,
invisible presence remains eternally nigh.