Tomas o se book

[Deleted]

hoganstand.com/ArticleForm.aspx?ID=245177

Another book on the way, hopefully better than darraghs which said very little.

[Annascaultilidie]

Oct 6, 2015 20:38:32 GMT @kingdomexile said:

hoganstand.com/ArticleForm.aspx?ID=245177

Another book on the way, hopefully better than darraghs which said very little.

I enjoyed that book. I don't know if it said anything but I enjoyed reading it anyway.

[Deleted]

Most kerry fans would like darraghs book but that does not make it a good one. Tomas seems a bit more direct and also with Marc finishing up this year, he might be less concerned about possible consequences.

[southward]

Has Marc actually announced?

[fitz]

Oct 6, 2015 21:08:24 GMT Annascaultilidie said:

Oct 6, 2015 20:38:32 GMT @kingdomexile said:

hoganstand.com/ArticleForm.aspx?ID=245177

Another book on the way, hopefully better than darraghs which said very little.

I enjoyed that book. I don't know if it said anything but I enjoyed reading it anyway.

Jaysis Tom twas beyond weak. The volume of his experiences, insights, anecdotes could have overwhelmed the pages. The honest opinion on his footballing career, his opponents, his great matches, his toughest days. For one of the all time great midfielders and clearly a big character, we were really short changed with a pretty banal tome. There's a great book to be got from Darragh. If he was concerned with rocking the boat while the two boys were still playing, well he should have waited. Hopefully Tomas won't be repeating that formula.

[smellUlater]

Darragh's book was unfortunately the biggest waste of ink ever put to paper.
Even his ghost writer admitted it was the worst book he wrote and that if he turned back time he wouldnt do it as darragh wouldnt tell him anything!

[Ballyfireside]

I might at last be launching my book one day soon, and there will be plenty of Kerry and GAA in it, and yes, you are the first to know. I have 2+ books actually ready for print, having tested the market for the past year or so with various content combinations, so watch this space, you have been warned!

And a wee word for the solicitors, politicians, etc, don't worry, as John B would say, 'such arrogance to think that someone would write a book about yew'.

A few on here had an interest in local film and one of my most recent works was deemed 'solid premise for film' during a masterclass I attended; ah be jazus but I'm so modest, still if I don't blow my own trumpet who will?

This film lark reminds of a rare coincidence in our family that had my late father Jackie Hegarty reading the paper, taking the usual peep over the page to see what was on TV. 'I think I know him' he commented of a US actor and to which everyone looked at each other in amazement, not least because Jackie was a man of few enough words and he never even watched films, let alone US soapy ones. The second time he said it had my late mother Eileen comment that 'maybe he comes into the shop', i.e. our shop at Lisselton, and to which a sister replied, 'unless he comes from America for his groceries'. The auld lad was never a man for drama, not to mind melodrama, and so the third assertion had myself thinking. Now it is a long story after that and one for another day, but he had actually met this famous actor, in Dingle, well in fact he saw the yank swinging of the chandelier in a house back West, pun intended or what? So there you go, I didn't lick it off the ground! Ballythefirewood is born!

[Ballyfireside]

Galvin is helping Tomás and anyone who read Paul's own book knows he has the craft, he let it slip that his teacher flagged it early on and this creativity was the underlying force to his intuition/thinking/inventiveness as a footballer and then of course drawing him towards a career in fashion. No offense meant but creativity is hardly prerequisite for teaching and which would test the patience of a saint, ah pun intended or what, the Fella above is trying to get me into trouble and one doesn't need to fall out with these pair of bockos!

The combination will be interesting and hopefully they will nail it, again! The issue is that it will probably sell in the same quantities regardless as people will buy it for the raw content in any event and you'd be afraid you'd miss out on some nugget of info, it's what we're all like!

Darragh is a different animal altogether and that would be evidenced in their writing, you either like or dislike the older lad's take of things in the Irish Times, i.e. the middle ground is narrow, I find you have to tune into him and then you get a high level experience.

Slan go foil a chairde go leir o an great Contae Chiarai agis gabh mo leithseal to our native Gaelgoers for mo cupla focial, ta se more deacair to relearn it and something needs to be done at national level to get more of us over the threshold!

[kerrygold]

Oct 10, 2015 17:00:12 GMT Ballyfireside said:

Galvin is helping Tomás and anyone who read Paul's own book knows he has the craft, he let it slip that his teacher flagged it early on and this creativity was the underlying force to his intuition/thinking/inventiveness as a footballer and then of course drawing him towards a career in fashion. No offense meant but creativity is hardly prerequisite for teaching and which would test the patience of a saint, ah pun intended or what, the Fella above is trying to get me into trouble and one doesn't need to fall out with these pair of bockos!

The combination will be interesting and hopefully they will nail it, again! The issue is that it will probably sell in the same quantities regardless as people will buy it for the raw content in any event and you'd be afraid you'd miss out on some nugget of info, it's what we're all like!

Darragh is a different animal altogether and that would be evidenced in their writing, you either like or dislike the older lad's take of things in the Irish Times, i.e. the middle ground is narrow, I find you have to tune into him and then you get a high level experience.

Slan go foil a chairde go leir o an great Contae Chiarai agis gabh mo leithseal to our native Gaelgoers for mo cupla focial, ta se more deacair to relearn it and something needs to be done at national level to get more of us over the threshold!

It took some creativity for a non club playing retired player to get cameo roles in the both the Muster Final and All-Ireland final!

[Mickmack]

Kerry have no one now to win the dirty breaking ball in the way Declan and Galvin their prime used to do. The only credible reason for Galvins return was to fill that void. He did ok in the spell he was on the field. He had the wit to win to kick it long into Donaghy a few times too.

That being said, winning dirty ball wasn't that important given that Cluxton usually found his man and Dublin got clean possession from those.

The irony is that it was Kerrys inability to win possession from a series of Kealy kickouts in the second half that allowed Dublin turn the screw and Galvins introduction was clearly an attempt to win possession from Kerrys own kickout.

[glengael]

Tomas will likely join an elite group of Kerrymen playing in non-Kerry County Finals shortly. Nemo face Castlehaven in the Cork Co. Final next Sunday.

[Ballyfireside]

Everyone was surprised Kerygold but Éamonn's other bold moves generally worked and hindsight is wonderful thing, although foresight is a bit better! Adjudicate sport with hindsight is unrealistic and I think we need to be there for the squad in defeat, I mean it isn't as if they owe us anything!

There are walks of life where highly paid people refuse to take simple and sensible action and where more than cups and medals are concerned, yet few criticize them, let alone sack them.

I for one was delighted that Éamonn signed up again and we were lucky he didn't walk away. Who else would compare? He is doing it for the love of it and the sacrifices he and his family make are immeasurable, and as is the case across all GAA squads in all counties. It is hardly as if anyone ever got rich from being a successful GAA player/manager.

[Deleted]

Extracts from Tomas book in today's indo. Nothing overly surprising in these.

[Annascaultilidie]

Oct 17, 2015 7:59:18 GMT @kingdomexile said:

Extracts from Tomas book in today's indo. Nothing overly surprising in these.

Apart from the fact that he wasn't on the piss with the Gooch but with the brothers? Who got away scot free?

I normally wouldn't talk about these things but at this remove... well it is in the papers let alone his book.

[Mickmack]

I have my own views on Jack’s management style’

People imagine that I just didn't get on with Jack O'Connor as soon as he became Kerry senior football manager - that it was instant conflict, immediate and continuing. They forget that I knew Jack for a long time before that.






Jack was the manager of the Under-21 teams I played on, and PO worked with him then. I'd heard of him before that again as an up-and-coming coach in south Kerry who was bound to go far.


Jack has a distinct personality. If you met him and didn't know him you might get the impression that he's a rude man. I know him, and I don't think so at all: he's a grand fella and a very good manager, as he's proved, over and over.

I go back with Jack and he has a pile of good points. Absolutely. Coming in after Páidí, he probably thought we had an issue with him, given the way Páidí went. Now, we probably had an issue with the way Páidí went, but that didn't mean we had an issue with Jack. Those two thoughts didn't necessarily connect.

I'd won an Under-21 All-Ireland medal with Jack and reached two finals and an All-Ireland semi-final. That's a lot of training sessions, a lot of games. I knew well that he had a different personality and a different approach to Páidí long before he came in as manager.

His greatest strength was in setting out a way of playing tactically, and in analysing the opposition. He was the first manager we had, really, who broke down the opposition. For instance, a lot of the time people never copped it, including journalists, but I was always put on someone who suited me. The backs were always put on fellas specifically, particularly the corner-backs. Wherever Bernard Brogan went when we played Dublin it didn't matter, Tom O'Sullivan always went with him. He was the man-marker, him or Mike McCarthy, or our Marc.

I was always put on a guy who would suit my game, which meant I was generally kept away from forwards who might cause us problems on the scoreboard. I would have marked them, and I could have, but it might have taken away from my attacking role. To be fair, Jack was the first manager at inter-county level who recognised what I could offer there.

If you were to break down the six forwards on any modern inter-county team, there'd always be one or two who'd range around the middle of the park, and they'd be the men I'd pick up, because it suited my game. I could cause trouble by ranging forward and forcing them to back-pedal in order to cover.

In fairness to Jack, he was the first fella to spot that. Páidí would have been more of a traditionalist, along the lines of his own playing days: 'You're the number five. You wait there for your man to come into you at the start of the game, and you mark him. That's your job for the day.'

Páidí's attitude was that, as a wing-back, you were a defender, there to defend. Anything you could manage after that, fine, but your first job was to stop your man. Páidí wouldn't always have welcomed me going upfield on the attack.

In 2004, when Jack came in, An Ghaeltacht had got to the All-Ireland club final. All that year I'd been bombing forward from centre-back, flying it, fit as a fiddle and well able to get up and down the field supporting the attack, as well as comfortably carrying out my defensive duties. And Jack allowed me to carry on like that with Kerry. 'If you have the legs to go, go' was his attitude. I'd had six years, from 1998 to 2003, when I'd been playing for Kerry without having that freedom. Maybe if I'd had that run with the club earlier in those years Páidí might have given me that freedom. But I'm not sure.

I can remember playing for the club at 16 in a senior game and nearly getting killed by older fellas. I'd solo up the field from the half-back line and present a fine target for more developed lads trying to break me in two with shoulder charges. 'Toots' Mac Gearailt from back our way told me, 'You won't last two years if you keep going up the field like that'. Sorry, now, 'Toots', but I got a bit more out of it than that.

It was Jack who gave me that freedom. Certainly he had other areas where he was stronger than Páidí. For instance, he put more importance on the league. Páidí was all about the championship, always, but the first year Jack came in we won the league.

He'd always make sure we got as much as we could out of every game, and since those days Kerry have always treated the league a lot more seriously, getting something out of every game.

In breaking down the opposition, Jack would use video of the other team - their strengths, their weaknesses, how they attacked and defended. Páidí had done that - a little bit - but he used to do it all himself; he had done everything, from organising the food to training us. But Jack brought it on.

When you look back at Páidí's workload in the cold light of day, or in the cold light of 2015, it was too much. But that was just the way it was. Jack had someone to do the work with the video. Fitzmaurice did it at first when he came in as a selector. And he didn't just do it for the opposition: he'd break us down in video sessions as well - lengthy meetings.

Those meetings could last an hour, an hour-and-a-half, and I half-dreaded them, they went on so long. But they were useful, and I recognised that. You learnt a lot: every time you came out of a meeting you had another nugget that would help. Every single player on the opposing team was analysed. What did they do with the ball? What way did they attack? What did they do when they were under pressure? There would have been 10 or more different ways of analysing the opposition.

That has come on again in recent years. Practically every county now has access to a computer system in which their players can enter the name of an opponent from another county and - bang! - every instance of that opponent touching the ball in a league or championship game is brought up instantly.

Before Jack came in, the notion of doing that level of analysis was unheard of. If you were playing Tipperary you'd know of Declan Browne, but you wouldn't be hearing 'their number seven will play at number five' or 'they like to bang the ball in long to their full-forward'. A lot of the players from so-called weaker teams wouldn't be known at all to us. That was dangerous, and it was leaving yourself wide open to the unknown.

Jack would also ring you during the week to tell you who you were on. If one of the younger lads wasn't going well in training he'd zone in on them and spend a lot of time on getting them right. He paid attention to that kind of thing and was good at it.

His weak point for me was that when a player wasn't going well in games, he didn't go the right way about helping them. You need to push certain buttons with certain guys. Take Declan O'Sullivan when he was going through a rough patch and got booed off the field below in Páirc Uí Chaoimh. (That was a low point for those Kerry supporters who did so, by the way.) I don't know the full facts of it, but I'd know that Jack and Declan would have been travelling to training and games together, and I don't know if that was a huge help to Declan in that situation. Maybe it put pressure on him that was unnecessary.

There was pressure on Jack, obviously, because Declan was the captain he wanted - his own club-mate - and it wasn't working out for them. It was a very tough move for him to have to take Declan off in such a big game. That wasn't easy.

I suppose the media drove it on a bit too by suggesting that there was a problem between us. But Jack wouldn't be able to say, really, that we had an issue with him.

One time Darragh was struggling with his game, and the management were trying everything they could to get him firing. Ger O'Keeffe actually met him one evening on a pitch in Tralee to fire balls out to him so that Darragh could fetch them and get his timing back. Did you ever hear the likes of that? In the end Darragh just picked up the phone to Jack and said to cut the bull* - to either pick or drop him.

I'm a teacher myself, and maybe I recognised that we were treated like children in class at times. Sometimes that was good and sometimes it wasn't, but whichever it was you'd have to say that he was the most successful manager we had.

One thing about Jack was that, while he'd let on that he's thick-skinned enough, I think sometimes things got to him. Being Kerry manager is a tough job: you're in the public eye, and when the results aren't coming it's easy for fellas with six, seven, eight All-Ireland medals in their back pockets to be making comments.

And I'd say Jack took that personally: 'Oh, the lads think now that, because I didn't play at the level they played at, I can't do the job.' He need not have felt like that. He was a far better coach than the lot of them put together, and he shouldn't have felt insecure about that. Maybe he'd disagree, but that was my impression.

He achieved more as a manager than every one of those guys, which was some feat, and I don't think he's finished yet. I think he's doing superbly with the minors, and management is like a drug for him: he gets a buzz off it. It's brilliant for Kerry underage football that they have a guy like him there.

He knew the pressure the job could heap up on top of you before becoming manager, though. Remember, he was a selector with Páidi when Páidí wasn't playing Maurice Fitzgerald and I'd say that Jack, coming from south Kerry, heard plenty of complaints in his home place about Maurice being dropped from the team.

In my experience, though, the buck stops with the manager when it comes to picking a player and Páidí must have had his reasons for not picking Maurice. He had a huge impact on games when we were bringing him on as a sub in 2000, But I don't know if he'd have had the same effect as a starter. Páidí won the All-Ireland that year but it was still an issue because Maurice is an icon, not just in south Kerry but also in the rest of Kerry and in Ireland. And Jack is the kind of person who'd remember the comments made to him, or about him, at that time.

When Jack came back to manage us the second time, it was different though because, in the interim, he'd written a book about Kerry and it went into fair detail.

Now, as I've mentioned, there was a lot more he could have written in that book - stuff that would have rubbed us and others up the wrong way.

We'd have stepped offside in our time. I'd have no problem admitting that. But, as I've said, trust is hugely important in a team set-up like that, and specifically the trust between management and players.

How did we keep winning together, you might ask? I got on well enough with Jack, most of the time. We had a laugh together a lot of that time.

In fact. I'd hate to fall out with him, because we won an awful lot together, and I have great time for him and for what he has achieved. We had great times, and some not so great ones, but the good far outweighed the bad.

But coming back after the book … It was spoken about among the players, and we - or I, at any rate - would have expected him to say something like, 'Look, I wrote a book, and it might have pissed some of ye off,' or whatever. Maybe he did that on an individual basis, but it wasn't raised with the group as a whole.

In his book he referred to the game against Longford I was taken off in, after which I shot off out the dressing-room door back to Cork before the game was over. That was wrong, and I knew it was wrong. When he rang me about it he said I'd have to apologise to the team.

So down I went to the bottom of the field in Fitzgerald Stadium before the next training session, and I had to stand up and say, 'I walked out the last day after being taken off, and I apologise for that. The next game is in Croke Park, so I won't be able to get a car outside the door for that, anyway.'

Jack mentioned in the book that I made a joke of it, but it was a harmless enough one. I don't agree with giving away secrets like that, though, particularly if you're going to come back and coach the team again.

Someone might point out that I'm discussing matters myself in this book, but most of it is related to myself and my experiences and I wouldn't be giving away secrets about anyone either. That's important to me.

There were stories Jack used, such as (Aidan) O'Mahony considering retirement after a training camp rumpus, and I thought that implicating fellas when you were going to be taking over the team again - I'd have been sceptical anyway, because of the trust issue I'd had with him in his first stint. But in the second stint he had I was dubious (though, to be fair, that's only my personal view).

We won the All-Ireland his first year back, but not afterwards. Did it make a difference? At that level, the very top, I think it does. Every half per cent adds up and I think it was an issue. Darragh was the same.

This isn't a witch-hunt, or a matter of settling scores with Jack: he has positives and negatives, as had Páidí and Pat O'Shea. So does Fitzmaurice. My abiding memories of the time with Jack are more positive than negative. He changed things up when he had to and he was brave enough to make bold moves.

Moving Kieran Donaghy to full-forward for the Longford game back in 2006, for instance, was a masterstroke from Jack. It was the making of Donaghy, and it energised the team.

We weren't going well at the time, and it can be unbelievably difficult to change things around. Just saying that things are flat isn't enough to improve things and, in fairness to Jack, it was a roll of the dice with Donaghy that worked out brilliantly: nobody could handle him. I'd joke with Donaghy in the dressing-room: 'That ball is going in, no matter what angle or height. If we're under pressure, you're going to get it.'

And we'd laugh, but he'd field it. To be fair to him, we'd try to put it in to him at an angle because, if you put it on top of him you were giving the full-back the advantage.

We weren't just bombing in the ball: Jack would bring up clips showing Donaghy winning the high ball, but winning it out beyond the 21. Jack would be saying, 'I don't want him to win the ball there: I want him winning it in on the edge of the square, so that, when he comes down, one tap and it's one on one.'

In Kerry, the buck always stops with the manager, and Jack deserves the credit for it. He had to make tough decisions, and he made them. I'd have felt that 'Gooch', Declan and Moynihan were his men, that he didn't feel threatened by them the way he was by Darragh, say.

He lived and breathed the job, he took time off work for it, and he worked hard for his success.

Bringing Mike McCarthy out to centre-back was another great move in 2009; so was the tactic of driving the ball into Johnny Crowley in 2004, who was the best man for dominating any ball to come into him.

I won four All-Stars under Jack, and I don't think I'd have won them if he hadn't allowed me to play my game. He's won at colleges, minor, Under-21 and senior level, so you have to give him credit: he doesn't have to answer to anyone in relation to management.

I texted my best wishes to him before his minor team played their games in 2014, and, as I said, I wouldn't be wanting to fall out with him; but I have my views on his management style.

I think the sanctuary of the dressing-room is sacred, and at times I don't think you have the right to breach that.

I had issues with his man-management; but nobody has all the virtues, have they?

Jack had stepped back after we won in 2006. The funny thing about him is that he has a knack for spotting winning teams, and he's always had that.

When I saw him taking over the Kerry minors in 2014 I knew well that they had a great chance of winning the All-Ireland.

Did he think we were maybe going over the top? Possibly. He said he was mentally tired in 2006. And maybe he was.

But a point worth making now is that we were certainly disappointed to see him go. People should know that. And he could well have been tired at that point.

Indo Sport

[Annascaultilidie]

www.independent.ie/sport/gaelic-games/gaelic-football/there-was-a-game-the-following-weekend-and-pints-on-the-sunday-were-wrong-34116995.html

In my 17 years with Kerry my buddies were the team: I went out with them, I socialised with them, I played golf with them. And now, when it's over, I stay in touch and I text them. But I wouldn't see them as much, obviously.




Throughout my career I always had the three or four buddies from home I'd be in touch with - the best buddies I had were Darragh and Marc, and obviously I'm still close to them - but when you're gone, you're gone.

It's over. The players on the inside need to know that they can trust each other, that stuff that happens in-house stays in-house.

There were plenty of problems over the years - fights and bust- ups, fellas leaving panels and coming back - that never came out, and proper order. The time myself and Gooch went offside was an exception, though.

That year, 2009, we were working hard and training well, but it just wasn't clicking in games. There was just something about the games early on in the year: we were stuttering a bit, though we were super-sharp in training. Flying.

I was cranky enough in myself. Even though I wasn't picking up red cards or getting suspended, I wasn't happy. In the back-door game against Sligo in Tralee we were on the ropes, but it was one of my better games. Galvin had a good game as well.

We never liked playing championship in Tralee. The sod is different. The stand is different. The field itself seems narrower and shorter. The surroundings are different. All of which adds up to saying it's no Killarney, basically.

But we got over the line eventually against Sligo. I had buddies over from Birmingham. They were going to a wedding in Dingle and, as I was driving back, I said I'd meet them for a pint in the Dingle Skellig.

We - by which I mean myself, Darragh and Marc, who were with me - went on and made a night of it inside in Dingle, hitting Dick Mack's and a few more places. The following day the Birmingham lads were around as well, so we had a few pints that afternoon.

Now, as a team we were good for socialising, but we also knew where and when to draw the line. We wouldn't have won what we did otherwise. But we transgressed that time, all right. Fair enough.

There were no contracts drawn up for the players, no agreements written in stone, but we knew we were wrong. There was a game the following weekend, and pints on the Sunday were wrong. We knew that.

Since Páidí had gone from Kerry, west of Dingle was a haven for us. Ard an Bhóthair is a long way from south Kerry, and we were having a few pints in Páidí's pub. But a neighbour of Jack's was inside there as well, and he carried the story back. It all came out. I knew it was coming: a third party rang me to tip me off that there was trouble on the way.

A lot of people thought I was with 'Gooch' that time: not at all. To this day I don't know what he was doing, and I never asked him. After it all finished we'd have a great laugh about it - 'Where did we go on to after that?' 'What did we do then?' That kind of thing.

When Jack rang me and said, "You were drinking," I said, "Yeah." I'd say he was taken aback, and he said there'd have to be a sanction.

He asked me to meet him and the selectors in the Park Hotel in Killarney before that night's training. At that point nobody really knew about Darragh or Marc, and I wasn't going to volunteer any information about them.

I met Jack and the selectors, and they said they were dropping me for the next game. I took it on the chin and said, "Grand," and off with us to training.

After training there was a players' meeting. Darragh just denied having pints, point blank. Marc hadn't had too many; he said he hadn't been drinking.

Darragh wasn't happy that we were dropped for the next game. We were playing Antrim and it would have been interesting to see if we would have been dropped if we were playing Dublin, maybe.

Chin

I'd like to think that the players in the dressing-room would have known that I took nothing more seriously than Kerry. I wasn't right, and I went off and did it anyway; but it was wrong, and I knew it was wrong, and I certainly didn't make a habit of it. I took it on the chin.

I didn't like the way it came out, and Jack could have handled that better; we could have organised releasing that information in a better way and it wouldn't have mattered as long as we were strong- minded enough to keep focused. It p*ssed me off.

One thing I'll always be grateful for was the support of the Kerry crowd for that Antrim match. There was a big Kerry crowd there when we went out and they gave us a huge welcome. We got the win and Jack got to look strong out of it too - "I'm not afraid to drop big names," that kind of thing.

I had no beef with being dropped. I had no beef with the players' meeting either: Jack and the selectors stepped out of it, and we had as good a pow-wow as Munster rugby ever had.

I wouldn't have any grudges against anyone who said anything in that meeting. I admired the likes of Mícheál Quirke and Declan O'Sullivan, who stood up and said, "What happened was wrong. It doesn't matter who did it or who didn't do it, but whoever did it should stand up and take their medicine."

They were two of the lads who'd back you the most and have the balls to say it. That's honesty, and I had no problem taking my medicine. There were others probably thinking the same, but those two said it out loud. Myself and the Gooch had no problem acknowledging it: we apologised to the team, and everything moved on.

[kerrygold]

It sounds like it will be an interesting read all the same. Nice that Tomas shared his private life with the fans that explained his sequence of red cards at a certain point in his life. He has been a top man for Kerry over a long period of time.

[Mickmack]

INTERVIEW WITH PAUL KIMMAGE







Part of a unique family dynasty in the GAA, it’s no surprise that football and the pursuit of honours have always been Tomás ó Sé’s twin obsessions




Paul Kimmage: Tomás, one of the more interesting things about your playing career — a thing that was incredibly frustrating for us — was your almost total refusal to engage with the media. This is how you explain it in the book: “What benefit would it be to me to reveal my real thoughts about a serious game, about serious opponents and their strengths and weaknesses?”

Tomás ó Sé: Well, what is the benefit of it? I don’t see it. How can it benefit the player to talk about himself before a game? I used to read articles about fellas I was playing against and I couldn’t figure it out.

PK: Why they had given an interview?

TóS: Yeah. I suppose a lot of it came from PO (Páidí). PO didn’t like you talking at all, at all. There were stories of journalists being invited down and he’d carry them to Dingle, and carry them to dinner, and carry them back to the pub and eventually he’d say, ‘Look, will you ask some other time.’ This was his attitude and he passed it on to us: the time to be in a paper was Monday morning.

PK: The match report?

TóS: Yeah.

PK: And you were the same?

TóS: I wouldn’t pick up calls and I wouldn’t pick up phones; I just wanted to focus totally on the game. And it was a thing we had between ourselves because if I saw Darragh in the paper I’d say: ‘What the f*** are you doing?’ And he’d be the same to me, so there was a bit of that at play as well. But I think it made us more interesting afterwards (laughs).

PK: It was certainly interesting to watch Tomás ó Sé — this almost recluse — turning up for The Sunday Game in a dicky bow!





Kerry’s Tomas O Se offers the match ball to Dublin’s Stephen Cluxton after he kicked the winning point in the 2011 All-Ireland final4
Kerry’s Tomas O Se offers the match ball to Dublin’s Stephen Cluxton after he kicked the winning point in the 2011 All-Ireland final

TóS: (Laughs)

PK: How do I square that?

TOS: Maybe it was just a ploy so people wouldn’t focus on what I was saying . . . No, the dicky bow is very simple: if you’re getting (free) suits from Pat Morley at Lapel and he says, ‘Wear a dicky bow’, you wear a dicky bow.

PK: Tell me about your new book.

TóS: Why did I write it?

PK: Yeah.

TóS: A few things dropped into my lap when I retired: I was asked to do a column by the Indo (Irish Independent) and I was asked to The Sunday Game and I thought, ‘I’ll have a cut at this.’ If I was going to do a book, I was going to do it right and I met these guys (Gill & Macmillan) and told them what I wanted, and what I didn’t want.

PK: Paul Galvin told me a lovely story last year about your snoring.

TóS: Ah well, I snore away, I’ve no problem with that.





Marc and Tomas O Se will be hoping to lead from the front when Kerry face Dublin on Sunday4
Marc and Tomas O Se will be hoping to lead from the front when Kerry face Dublin on Sunday

PK: It’s not in the book.

TóS: Is it not?

PK: No.

TOS: Jeeze! Half the stuff that’s in the book, and half the stuff that’s in the articles, I can’t tell what’s in what! It’s funny, I was on the phone to Darragh a week before last and he says: ‘C’mere, what’s inside that book?’ I said, ‘This is a fine time to be asking me when the thing is gone to print.’ He says, ‘C’mere now, there’d better be nothing bad about me!’ I said, ‘Don’t worry, you’re alright.’ (Laughs)



* * * * *



1 The Sopranos



Darragh would have a bit of the rogue in him. You’d have to time your moments with Darragh. Tomás is different: what you see is what you get with Tomás. And Marc up to this last year would have lived in the shadow of the other two, but he’s blossomed. They are so close as a family that they come as a package deal. I knew they were hurting a bit when I came in, so I made certain to walk on eggshells around them.

– Jack O’Connor,

Keys to the Kingdom





Tomas O Se, Kerry, in action against Stephen O'Neill, Tyrone4
Tomas O Se, Kerry, in action against Stephen O'Neill, Tyrone



PK: Tell me about the ó Sés: your father Míceál was born in London, the eldest of three boys.

TóS: My grandmother was from a huge family, the Lavins from Sligo. She met my grandfather and they married in London and Tom and my father were born there. They moved home to Ard A Bhóthair (Ventry) after my grandfather was involved in an accident and set up a grocery shop. All my memories of my grandfather are of visiting him in his bedroom above the shop but my grandmother was a grafter and basically spoiled the three boys. Every day, three grown men, they would still go over to her for soup and dinner.

PK: Did they all play football?

TóS: My father was a fine-day footballer and wouldn’t get stuck in. Tom was very good and won an All-Ireland minor with Kerry. But Páidí was the man when he came along.

PK: Your mother was a nurse?

TóS: (laughs) Yeah, I don’t know where we got her from. Her family, the Kavanaghs from Lispole, are contractors and developers and unbelievable grafters. And then you come to the ó Sés and if there was work in the bed they’d sleep on the ground.

PK: (laughs) You say that in the book.

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TóS: I could drive home tomorrow and she could be up a ladder painting the wall! She gets up at seven in the morning and its constantly go, go, go . . . We definitely didn’t pick up that gene (laughs).

PK: How did she meet your father?





Tomas O Se, Kerry, in action against Stephen O'Neill, Tyrone4
Tomas O Se, Kerry, in action against Stephen O'Neill, Tyrone

TóS: She was working in England and was over and back and it was a kind of on-and-off thing but eventually they got married and settled in Listowel. My father had a great job, an agricultural advisor, and didn’t kill himself. But he loved Listowel.

PK: What did he love about it?

TóS: He had a great bunch of friends up there but I think my mom wanted to come home. Myself, Darragh and Fergal were born . . . well, we were born in Tralee . . . but we lived in Listowel. And when I was two we moved back to Ard A Bhóthair and Marc was born.

PK: I never realised there were four of you. Fergal was the first born?

TóS: Yeah.

PK: That must be hard, being the ó Sé nobody knows?

TóS: Very hard, and I’d be conscious of it, we’d be conscious of it, and I’d be annoyed if people treated him differently or in a dismissive way. He was a very good footballer but did his cruciate and never came back from it.

PK: What traits did you inherit from your parents? Who took after whom?

TóS: Did you ever see that scene in The Sopranos?

PK: Go on.

TóS: It’s hilarious. Tony is giving out about his mother and the fact that he picked up some gene from her . . . Sometimes I see my mother taking a pot out of the press and it won’t come out. The f**kin door of the press will come off quicker than the pot will come out and I look at her and think, ‘That’s where I got it from.’

PK: (Laughs)

TóS: I had a chat with Galvin about it one night. I said: ‘Do you know when you lose it? It’s pretty crazy, isn’t it? In those couple of seconds you could actually do anything.’ And we had a bit of a laugh. Galvin, in fairness, controlled it a lot more than I did because he got a lot more abuse, but I couldn’t. Even to this day I can’t. I wouldn’t initiate anything but if a fella came at me . . .

PK: You’d lose it?

TóS: And my mother would definitely have that. My father didn’t have it. I remember I lost the head in the garden one day and he says, ‘Jesus Christ! What ails ye?’ I’d never heard anybody saying that before, ‘What ails ye?’, and because I thought it was funny, it actually calmed me down.

PK: What caused it?

TóS: I can’t remember. There were certain days I’d be crying with temper out in the garden and the harder I’d cry and the worse I got, the harder the boys would laugh at me.

PK: Teasing you?

TóS: Teasing me.

PK: What about your father’s character?

TóS: A lovely man.

PK: I have a sense he was softer than Páidí?

TOS: He was, possibly.

PK: Why possibly?

TóS: (laughs) Páidí was no normal human being so you would be better comparing him to somebody else! I mean, often we’d ask Páidí did he have a heart at all, it was like there was a chunk of wood inside him. Páidí based everything on football. He was like a big child around the place and he did what he wanted to do. Responsibility came easier to my father.

PK: He was the eldest, of course.

TóS: Yeah, and he enjoyed Páidí no matter. Tom was a different character but the three of them were tight. And the fact that we were living so close meant they were more than uncles to us. Páidí’s kids would be like my brothers and sisters. We’d see them every single day.

PK: When did you first sense Páidí was a star?

TóS: It would have been around ’85 and ’86 when the (Sam Maguire) Cup was coming back. I remember Ambrose (O’Donovan) coming back with the cup in ’84. I suppose that’s when I realised it.

PK: Your first time in Croke Park was with the minors in '96?

TóS: Yeah.

PK: Darragh wrote in his book that he had been there in ’82, '84, '85 and '86?

TóS: Yeah, it f**kin galled me. Myself and Marc were always left at home

PK: You weren’t brought?

TOS: No.

PK: Your father would have just brought Darragh?

TóS: The two eldest, Fergal and Darragh.

PK: What about other sports?

TóS: I suppose the only other sport that we had access to was soccer but I never really got into it. I used to get the Panini soccer albums and all that and loved watching Maradona, the Italian soccer used to be on Monday night, but other sports? Not really.

PK: What about other sportstars?

TóS: We had a (video) tape, ‘Kerry’s Golden Years’, they were our heroes, just the Kerry lads basically. And our biggest hero of all was PO, even though we would never have said it. We’d watch him training and he’d come over and watch the videos with us and it was unreal. He was like, ‘Jesus Christ! Watch this now!’ And he’d be breaking it down.

PK: You write in the book: “Once Darragh made it, my whole life revolved around making it too.” Is that what drove you?

TóS: I suppose a lot of things drove me . . . the area, the people in the area. There was only one topic of conversation and that was football. We’d learn about these old footballers and think, ‘Jesus Christ! I want a bit of that.’ And there was the fact that Páidí had gone through it. I’d go down to the beach and you’d have Tommy Doyle and himself and Ogie (Moran) running and training together and I’d just want to play with Kerry. I knew how important it was. And we had this constant drive at home, nothing was ever good enough. I could bring home an All-Ireland medal and another All-Ireland medal, but because of what your man (Páidí) had achieved there was always something more to aim at.

PK: What about the influence of your brothers? You describe some of the games you played as kids as “tussling like wild dogs”. Sounds competitive?

TóS: Well, it was. We’d play these games against the gable end of the house, three-and-in basically except it was Gaelic and first to 10 (points). Darragh was way stronger and used to annoy the * out of me. He’d hit me a clip, knowing he’d get a reaction, and I’d start beating into him. Then he’d hold the ball off and start laughing and it used to drive me insane. The only way I could beat him was to go for goals but he’d kick points, he enjoyed a slow death.

PK: What about Marc?

TóS: Marc was smaller than us, so it was more me and Darragh than me and Marc, but we used to have fierce crack.

PK: Which of them are you closest to?

TóS: I’d be on the phone daily to Darragh, and most of the time to Marc but the way I’d base it is this: there is nothing I would hold back from any of them.

PK: What about your characters? How are you different?

TóS: They all say Marc and Darragh are similar, and that myself and Fergal are similar but I wouldn’t necessarily agree with that. Darragh wrote in his book about a trip we made from Limerick to Ventry . . .

PK: Yes, I was going to ask about that: Tomás never speaks when there isn’t a reason to. One time, I collected him in Limerick when he was in college and the two of us drove all the way out past Dingle and beyond. He didn’t open his mouth for the entire trip until we were nearly home.

TóS: I didn’t, but it was a comfortable silence. I used to room with (Eamonn) Fitzmaurice and I used to room with Galvin, and always felt I had to say something or keep the chat going. When I roomed with Darragh I could be myself and often that meant being quiet, but that’s just the way I am.

PK: This is what you say about Darragh: If he shot someone outside the door he’d just come in and sit down and say to you, ‘Look, life’s too short to be worrying about that, so I’m not going to let it get me down.’

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TóS: (laughs) Darragh would be upbeat about most things — whenever I need a pick-me-up or anything I’ll ring him. He always looks at life positively: it doesn’t matter if things are going bad for him, he’ll just drive on and keep going. The glass is always half-full.

PK: You lost an All-Ireland with the minors in ’96. Talk to me about your transition to the senior team?

TóS: I was doing my Leaving Cert (in 1997) and Páidí (then manager) started picking at me in the bar, he says: ‘I want to bring you in.’ I said, ‘Ah, will you go away!’ He says, ‘I swear to God I’m bringing you in.’

PK: And this is what you want to hear?

TóS: Oh yeah, I wanted to go in but dad would say, ‘Ahh, he’s only pulling your leg that fella, leave it off.’ And I’d go over and your man would be picking at me again, ‘I’m going to bring you in’, and I said: ‘Well go over so and say it to my parents.’ Now Páidí would probably have been half-afraid of dad, and my mother probably more: ‘Leave him do his Leaving Cert.’ But the day I got my results I went in for a trial . . . I didn’t care about the results.

PK: You made the squad for the final that year against Mayo.

TóS: Yeah, the way they worked it was . . . 21 medals were given out and I was number 24 on the day. The only way I was going to get a medal was if I played, and I knew I wouldn’t be playing, but the experience of being there was enough. I won’t say I felt comfortable but I wasn’t bothered with the same nerves and could just sit back and watch what was happening: the team talks beforehand, the dressing room at half-time, and it was brilliant. I’d say I learnt more in ’97 and ’98 than I did the rest of my career in terms of preparing for games.

PK: ’98 was your first time to play for Kerry?

TóS: Yeah.

PK: How big was that?

TóS: It was huge. I was doing well and knew I was close enough but I remember that night sitting in the car . . . We used to travel to training with Páidí and Jack Ferriter and Dara ó Cinnéide and everybody had gone home and we’re waiting for your man and he’s inside with the boys picking the team. He comes out in good form and I don’t want to ask but 10 minutes into the drive he says, ‘You’re in. Corner-back.’ We were playing in Killarney — a full house — and Cork were gunning for us. It was a cauldron, really tough, and I was suffering from my nerves. I came off and showed my togs to Liam Flaherty and he started laughing: “F**k me!” There was a * stain down the back of them!

PK: That bad?

TóS: I couldn’t sleep properly, I couldn’t eat properly; the game just passed me by and I was taken off at half-time. I took it terribly. I was actually *in’ depressed after it, but I’m delighted it happened so early in my career because of what I learnt.

PK: It sounds like you were obsessed with this game?

TOS: Yeah, crazily.

PK: Was it unhealthy?

TóS: Possibly, yeah.

PK: Elements of it?

TóS: Yeah, definitely. People don’t understand . . . like, when my dad died we trained that day. The day he was buried we trained! There’s that saying . . . was it (Bill) Shankly?

PK: Football is not life and death it’s more serious than that?

TóS: That’s it. Páidí would joke about a lot of things but he wouldn’t joke about football. He (left) the guards because it wasn’t suiting his football. He took over the running of the pub but wasn’t interested in making a profit because of football. He didn’t care about his career or his future in terms of work. Just football. And I was the same. We were all the same. If they had asked me to drive to Donegal to train, I’d have driven to Donegal. If I had a bad training session, it would gut me out for two or three days. It took over our lives and we were there for 17 years.

PK: You won your first All-Ireland in 2000 against Galway? What did it mean to you?

TóS: When we won that All-Ireland, I think the Hogan was being built and the top deck wasn’t there, it was the lower deck I think, and we had the Cup on the field and that was special. I think what made it more special was that there had been a draw in the semi-final and a draw in the final and Seamus (Moynihan) was captain. I remember him inside in the dressing room: ‘We don’t care how long we have to stay up here. We’ll stay until we win the bloody thing.’ But a great day. I had (experienced it) in ’97 but it was great to have a medal because, rightly or wrongly, that’s how you’re measured in Kerry.

PK: Was your father there?

TóS: He was, yeah. I didn’t see him until very late in the night. He didn’t go to the dinner, even though he was entitled to, but we met him later on and it wasn’t a big hug, just a shake of the hand. He was proud as punch but he wouldn’t let it show.

PK: Why didn’t he go to the dinner?

TóS: It’s not that he was shy but I think he’d rather a quiet pint than hullaballoo.

PK: He wasn’t a man for the limelight?

TóS: No.

PK: So very unlike his brother?

TO’S: Very, very unlike. They wouldn’t fit in the same sentence.

PK: (Laughs)

TóS: Having said that, they got on. It was one of these (strange) dynamics but the limelight wouldn’t be his cup of tea at all.



* * * * *

2 The CRYING GAME



When we played Cork in Killarney in 2002 my father was there, and I’d say it was the only time he saw myself, Darragh and Marc play together for Kerry. Fergal, my other brother, said he was unbelievably nervous watching it, fidgeting and moving around in the stand. We drew that game, the replay fixed for a couple of weeks later in Páirc Uí Chaoimh. A couple of days after the drawn game I was talking to my father on the phone, a great chat about the game and how it went. Little did I know it was the last time I’d speak to him.

– Tomás ó Sé,

The White Heat



PK: The Cork game in 2002 was the first, and last, time your father would watch the three of you play together?

TóS: Yeah, Marc was playing cornerback, I was wing-back, and Darragh was midfield . . . A wet, dirty day over in Killarney. There was a big hullabaloo about the replay after he died but we couldn’t give two *es whether it was the Saturday or the Sunday of the following weekend.

PK: The first game in Killarney was on the Sunday?

TóS: Yeah.

PK: And he died on the Tuesday?

TóS: Yeah.

PK: You got a phone call?

TóS: I got a call at work. It was my first year (teaching) and I was inside in class (Gaelscoil de híde in Fermoy) and my boss, Seán MacGearailt, called me out to take a call from Mícheál ó Sé, the commentator:

– Your dad is sick.

– Right.

– He’s gone in the ambulance.

– Right . . . what’s wrong with him?

(silence)

– What’s wrong with him, Mícheál?

(silence)

– Is he dead?

– Just come home, fast.

I hung up and rang Marc. ‘Is he gone?’ He said, ‘He is, yeah.’ And that was it, I drove straight home.

PK: Why would Mícheál ó Sé call you?

TóS: I don’t know.

PK: Where were your brothers?

TóS: I dunno. Darragh could have been inside in Tralee. Marc was at home I’d say, and Fergal would have been home. He teaches 10 miles back the road.

PK: Why wouldn’t your brothers have called you?

TóS: I’d say they were looking after my mother or something, and in fairness Mícheál is one of our greatest supporters, a brilliant man. He’s soft. I could hear it in his voice.

PK: Where did your father die?

TóS: He was in the kitchen helping my mother. My mother had students, she kept students. He had a heart attack.

PK: How old was he?

TóS: Sixty.

PK: Sixty!

TóS: Yeah, and a fresh enough sixty.

PK: You drove home?

TóS: Yeah.

PK: How hard was that?

TóS: It was hard enough because it was on Raidió Na Gaeltachta and I was upset. It bothered me for a good few months afterwards, just the natural cycle or whatever, but it was hard. I didn’t open up at all and wouldn’t speak about it at the time but look, everybody goes through it. It just happened to fall between two Munster finals and there was a lot of talk about us playing but it wouldn’t have mattered if the game was the following day, we would have played.

PK: You would?

TóS: Yeah, because the day he was buried, which was the Thursday, we trained that evening. It was a kind of a chance to get a break.

PK: A release?

TóS: Yeah, I’ll always remember it because we were driving over to Killarney and, I’ve never heard it since, but the Fureys song ‘My Old Man’ came on and Darragh says, ‘You cannot be f**king serious!’

PK: The three of you were in the car?

TóS: Yeah.

PK: Did you hold it together?

TóS: We started laughing, humour got us through a lot of it.

PK: When did the grief kick in?

TóS: It’s not that you wouldn’t have been thinking about it, you’d have been thinking about it a lot, but you’re in this bubble playing with Kerry and then the bubble bursts. We lost the All-Ireland (to Armagh) and it just hit home a bit more. Darragh had a very good relationship with my dad and when he died I thought, ‘F**k it! I wish I’d known him more.’ I’m very open with my kids. I can say, ‘I love you’ and they will say it back and it’s the norm. That wasn’t the norm when I was growing up and when my dad died I regretted it.

PK: Páidí died at 57.

TóS: Yeah.

PK: How did the shock compare to losing your father?

TóS: It was very hard to take because nobody expected it, and very similar to my dad, he came down that morning and was feeling something. He took a tablet and went back to bed and . . . Bang!

PK: Would he not have got checked after your dad?

TóS: He got checked and was told he should have a stent but a buddy of his, John Egan, had had a stent and died and Páidí had got it into his head: ‘F**k the stent!” But you couldn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth:

– Did you go the doctor Páidí?

– Yeah

– Did you get the okay?

– He told me I was as fit as a fiddle!

Now he possibly did get the all-clear but he was advised to get the stent and he wouldn’t and look, whether that would have made any difference I don’t know, who’s to tell? We found out he had a heart anyway!

PK: (Laughs)

TóS: But he was a huge loss. We lost our father and you never go back to the same house. Where we live you have our house, the shop, the pub, the church and my grandmother’s house and that’s it. And you took him out of it and . . .

PK: You’re obsessive about football.

TóS: Yeah.

PK: Is it addictive?

TóS: (exhales) I don’t know, it probably is, but we don’t know any different.

PK: You do when it stops.

TóS: Yeah, and I find it hard since it stopped. I’m playing with Nemo now but . . . yeah, there’s certain things that you’d enjoy.

PK: Did Páidí find it hard?

TóS: I’d say he did, yeah. I never spoke to him about it. I never actually asked him, ‘Did you miss it when you left?’ He tried to come back a couple of times.

PK: Is that why he drank? To fill the void football had left?

TóS: I don’t know. Who’s to say? When he left Kerry (the manager’s job) there was a bit of hurt and madness there. He chased it with Westmeath and he chased it with Clare but he had it cracked before he died and wasn’t missing it any more. He loved music and had just copped Robbie Williams. I remember walking in and he was sitting on his own watching him (a DVD) performing live: ‘Jesus Christ!’ he said. ‘The energy of that man! He’s unreal!’ He was flying it, the business was flying it, and then just when he was starting to enjoy it he was gone.

PK: What did you enjoy? What gave you the biggest buzz from all that you achieved?

TóS: I think 2009, after that thing that happened with the Gooch. (On July 18, after a narrow win over Sligo during the third round of the Qualifiers in Tralee, ó Sé and Colm Cooper defied team orders and went drinking after the game.) The media were down on top of us, our own fellas were down on top of us and myself and the Gooch were nailed.

PK: For going drinking?

TóS: We were frustrated. We were working hard in training and it wasn’t going well and decided, ‘F**k it! We’ll go for a pint.’ We eventually turned the corner against the Dubs, and then we got motoring and beat Cork in the final and I got a great buzz out of that year. But I got a great buzz out of every year. The beauty for me was when you’d been away for four or five months and come back to the muck and the *, I’d love that. I wouldn’t even be thinking of June or July. Then you’d work through the League and hopefully get to the League final. Then the Championship would start and you’d get to the top and an All-Ireland final and we were so lucky every year that we were there or thereabouts. I played in 10 or 11 All-Ireland finals!

PK: That is astonishing.

TóS: People don’t realise the strength of that group: Declan O’Sullivan, Seamus Moynihan, Liam Hassett doesn’t get enough credit, Darragh was there, Fitzmaurice, Gooch. There were so many leaders and strong characters.

PK: Tell me about the end and your decision to retire. This is how you explain it in the book: When we lost to Dublin in 2013 I didn’t say an emotional farewell to the dressing room. No tears. No taking some toilet roll as a souvenir. Tracksuit on, baseball cap down, and away I went.

TO’S: I was fully sure we would win that game. We were coming in as total underdogs and had cracked (Stephen) Cluxton and then Kevin McManamon came in and rattled it and we couldn’t turn it around. I had no plans to retire before the game. I thought we’d win and I’d be playing again in the final and I wanted to go out on a high; Seamus Moynihan went out on a high; Darragh went out on a high; but after the final whistle I kinda knew that was it. I took a couple of days and when I rang Fitzmaurice a week later he didn’t try to . . .

PK: Dissuade you?

TóS: Yeah, which kind of pissed me off.

PK: You don’t explain what you did after the game?

TóS: I’m nearly sure I drove straight back to Cork. I hated to be around supporters or anybody talking about the game, losing was f**kin awful. You’d remember the losses a lot more than the wins.

PK: You hated losing more than you loved winning?

TóS: Yeah, I think I did. Winning was easy to switch off from but losing

. . . Jeez! I used to dig and dig and dig and dig. I’ve never, ever watched a game we’ve lost but I could remember everything. It’s hard. And it was deflating the way we went down. There was a time when I’d have done anything to play but it just drained out of me.

PK: You wrote a great column before the All-Ireland last year about a dream you had that you were back on the Kerry panel.

TóS: (Laughs)

PK: Do you have that dream often?

TóS: It’s not repetitive but I do dream that I’m still part of it and inside there. And (in the dream) I know that I shouldn’t be there but they don’t. The thing that’s killing me, and the reason I’ve found it hard to move on, is because all of my buddies are still there. When they’re gone it will be easier for me and I’ll enjoy going to games more. Because when they’re losing I’m feeling bad for them, and when they’re winning…

PK: You’re feeling bad for you?

TóS: (Laughs)

PK: Were you surprised Paul Galvin came back?

TóS: I was, initially.

PK: Because his decision to retire, or rather the way he explained it, seemed to make sense?

TóS: Yeah, but maybe in hindsight there were things that were still grating on him. I get on very well with Paul but he’s a private person and I’d know not to ask him deep questions about that kind of stuff. And I wouldn’t answer if he asked me.

PK: Well I’m going to ask you because you spent a year out and started playing again with Nemo Rangers?

TóS: I spent a year out and didn’t kick a ball. I left my club (An Ghaeltacht) and had no plans to go back or join another club but then Kerry won the All-Ireland in 2014. There was a huge high around Kerry and it gave me a lift. I thought, ‘I want to go back training and play football again.’ I knew Stephen O’Brien and the lads down here (Nemo) very well and I gave him a shout but the body isn’t what it was. A big part of my game was getting up and down the field but I can’t do that now. I want to but I can’t. (laughs)

PK: Has it been worth it?

TóS: Ahh it has. I’m going to play in a county final in Cork (this afternoon) and that’s a buzz. I mean, everybody was saying, ‘Them Cork fellas will kill you,’ but there’s a great tradition of football in West Cork and I like their style of play: they’re fair, they’re hard, they’re honest. And I haven’t had one bit of grief since I came down.

PK: Tell me about your debut on The Sunday Game?

TóS: It was something I was really nervous about. I don’t get nervous any more but you really have to have your homework done. When I was playing with Kerry I was only ever interested in two teams: Kerry and whoever they were playing next. I would rarely watch matches on the box. I’d get butterflies and it brought out something in me I didn’t enjoy so I’d go for a walk or do something else. But now you have to know everything, you can’t . . .

PK: Bluff it?

TóS: You can’t bluff it. The game has become a lot more tactical than it was. Bluffers are spotted straight away but . . . look, I’m still on a learning curve inside but I’m enjoying it.

PK: Are there any pundits you admire or aspire to be?

TóS: I have great time for Kevin McStay, partly because the (first) night I was on he was really decent. We each get a choice of three pieces to pick from the game so it’s whoever puts his hand up first (gets the best). I was nervous, and Kevin knew it and he just said, ‘Pick whatever you want and I’ll go with whatever else’. And every night I’ve worked with him has gone well, a lovely, sound fella. I wish him the best in management and hope he does well.

PK: Anyone else?

TóS: I enjoy working with Ciarán Whelan, another fella who looks at it from a player’s perspective and wants to bring more than the normal analysis and . . . who else? Look, Brolly is Brolly. He says stuff that’s off the wall sometimes but I actually do think he can read the game well, it’s just . . . I don’t know what f**kin jellies he’s on.

PK: (laughs) What about Spillane, the Kerry icon who became this . . .

TóS: Shooting from the hip?

PK: Yeah.

TóS: Look, in Kerry there’s no doubt Spillane is an absolute legend. Páidí used talk about Spillane and what a player he was and in fairness . . . I mean they talk about Shefflin and what he went through but what Spillane went through with his injuries was unbelievable. One of the greatest players that ever played the game. As a pundit? I don’t know. Is there a hint of saying things for the sake of being controversial or trying to stay relevant? I don’t know. I like O’Rourke. I’ve great time for O’Rourke.

PK: He’s measured?

TóS: Yeah, everything is measured. But sometimes Brolly comes out with stuff, and Spillane comes out with stuff, and I’ve great time for both of them but that wouldn’t be me. But I’m enjoying it, and I love writing up the articles for the Indo. The first year was easy in that everything was new but it is becoming more of a challenge but I enjoy analysing and trying to bring a touch that the journalist can’t bring.

PK: It shows that you’re enjoying it.

TóS: I am.

PK: And it’s been good getting to know you, stick around.

TóS: Well, a lot of doors have opened for me and I’m grateful. Football

has given me everything and a

confidence I don’t think I’d have had. So we’ll see where it goes. We’ll keep plugging.



The White Heat: My Autobiography by Tomas O’Se is published by Gill & Macmillan on Friday next priced at €22.99.

Sunday Indo Sport

[Deleted]

Very good interview. There is a great book to be written about the kerry team of the last 15 years. Hopefully Tomas's book is it.

[Annascaultilidie]

Nemo drew today.

[Mickmack]

'Getting sent off doesn't make you a hard man: it shows you are a stupid player, a clown'

Stress away from the game led to red mist, red cards and poor discipline late in my career






Tomás Ó Se Twitter




Starting off, I got a lot of yellow cards, but I think you wouldn't find someone who'd say I was dirty or started a lot of fights or fouled a lot.





Bookies gave odds on me for the first yellow, or for me definitely getting a yellow. My friends would have been onto me, but that all settled down. I had a run of nine or 10 years when I got no more yellow cards than the average player.

It's hard to pinpoint it when it happens, because you're in the middle of it. But if you're under pressure at work, or at home, or in university, it can get on top of you quickly enough. You're playing away, training away, but then you get a run when you're rising to it, and the cards are coming thick and fast.

That was 2012 for me. For a while there, if a guy hit me or got a rise from me I'd have no control over myself for a second or two. None at all. I had just returned from a two-month suspension, and I was back for a game against Laois in Killarney.

Jack rang me the night before: "How are you now?"

"Good," I said. "I'm in a good place."

"We can't afford to have this going on. You know that," he said. And he was right.

Togged

I thought I was fine. I felt grand the morning of the game and drove away to Killarney in good form. I togged and went out - and within six or seven minutes I was sent off.

Brendan Quigley, a Laois midfielder, threw a dig at me and I reacted by hitting him a box in the stomach. In fairness to him, most fellas would have thrown themselves down on the ground, but he stayed up. Unfortunately for me, the linesman had a good view of proceedings and I got a straight red.

By the time the match was over I was at home in Cork. I was ashamed to face the players again, ashamed for them to be thinking, 'you can't trust him to stay on the field.'

The one thing in my favour was that, when it came to the Championship, I'd be zoned in.

Down the years if a fella wanted to get rough I was quite happy to dish it back to them. There were plenty of punches that nobody saw, and I could have been sent off a lot more if I'd been seen.

Against Armagh in Tralee, for example, I was trying to get away from Ciarán McKeever in order to take a quick free. But he was holding onto me and I lashed out.

The main point to make is that getting sent off doesn't make you a hard man: it shows that you're a stupid player, a clown. There's nothing hard about it. A hard man is someone who'll run 30 yards to go down on a ball at the risk of getting a boot in the head, or someone who'll make five runs in a row without getting a pass but who'll still make a sixth run even though he's knackered.

Lashing out, losing your control - that's a cowardly way to act.

Those red cards came along in a short period of time. I wasn't on Twitter at that stage, but there were plenty of people to tell me about the reaction to all those red cards, the disgraceful behaviour and so on. I'd be tough enough to know that I was going to come out the other side of it, but it wasn't easy.

People need to remember that fact when they're commenting on players and their performances.

That time my marriage had broken up, so there was a lot to deal with in matching the stress around that to preparing for an elite sport.

There was a property boom in the country and, like a lot of people, I took a punt. And, like a lot of other people, my punt didn't come in. I had a lot going on and I dealt with it.

Jack, Fitzmaurice - all of them were very good to me, in fairness, and very accommodating; but a lot of people weren't aware of that in their commentary on games. There are players under similar stress on every team in Ireland.

I never got sick before games, ever. But it all came to a head going up on the train to play Meath in the 2009 All-Ireland semi-final. My vision blurred, and there were shadows in my vision.

I was as weak as water, as though I had the 'flu, and I got a massive migraine. I wasn't right at all the night before the game, so the following morning I was going to pull out of the team. I couldn't eat on the Saturday night, and I barely had anything that morning either.

I got an injection before the game. It turned out to be one of the best games I played that year.

Breaks

I was marking Peadar Byrne, who'd won a certain number of breaks the previous day, and I never got onto as many breaks myself the same day, driving on with the ball every time.

I was shattered afterwards. Absolutely empty. It happened to me one other time, out on the golf course, but it hasn't happened to me since retiring.

It probably contributed to my retirement in the end. It is what it is, and I'm not looking for sympathy: I'm just offering it as context. If people were to ask me why I was getting sent off so often, that would be the only reason I can come up with: the stress I was under away from the matches.

As an inter-county footballer, it's not just a matter of being focused: it's a case of being selfish, and you have to be selfish about everything. For some players it's number two or three, but for me it was always number one, probably to my detriment, but it was always that way.

Certain fellas don't have that outlook, but, because I did, it made it hard for me when I retired. That's why I went back playing club football - for the enjoyment. But the day is coming when I won't be able to play club football, so I might as well enjoy it while I can.

People don't realise what an inter-county footballer faces on a Monday morning. I face a classroom. Other lads face different scenarios: they have customers and clients in front of them.

Every one of them goes out to do their best, but in the case of the National League, for instance, Kerry might be training hard between games, but if a guy doesn't go well in those games, my God, it's like a tribunal of inquiry in the county. Why isn't he going well? What's wrong with him? Weeshie Fogarty on the radio asking questions . . .

We won a lot, and we lost a lot, but if someone came after me now with questions I'd be inclined to go for him. Darragh could laugh at lads and pay no attention, but my fuse would be shorter and I'd react. Someone who has no notion of the effort being put in. . . I wouldn't take too kindly to their input at times, put it that way.

[gaastore]

Tomas will be signing the first copies of his book in the Kerry gaa store on Saturday 24th at 11 am for an hour.

[inforthebreaks]

www.joe.ie/sport/tomas-o-ses-brilliant-story-about-a-pub-shemozzle-between-cork-and-kerry-players/516525

[mossie]

Tomas super player, Kerry legend but finding it hard to get excited about this book I am afraid to say

from his era we have books from Jack, Dara, Tadhg and Paul so can this one really have much different?

[ballynamona]

Jack's book covered 3 seasons of the senior team, Kennelly's just one, and Darragh said very little. Galvin's book is a cut above the average sports book. I think Tomas will produce a decent book. It can't be easy being open about his demons.

[Deleted]

I thoughts jacks book was very good and a cut ahead of the others. Tadhgs book was more focused on the Australian market. Darraghs book said nothing and is very forgettable. I enjoyed Paul's book but he could have done with a good editor as it is a bit self indulgent in places and and also missed out on some key things.

[Mickmack]

as we are discussing books.... I have just finished reading THE BLOODIED FIELD. I cant add much to the review below by Kieran Shannon. He describes is as unforgettable. I agree.

[Mickmack]

KIERAN SHANNON: Book brings to life savage events of Bloody Sunday




Tuesday, November 25, 2014

By Kieran Shannon




IT would have been yesterday, a Monday in November, 94 years ago, that Luke O’Toole, the general secretary of the GAA, walked through the early-morning mist and the blood-stained, bullet-ridden grass of Croke Park, shadowed by a journalist.

A small gathering was praying at the spot where Mick Hogan, a Tipperary footballer, had been shot and killed. Another man was going about the task he had been assigned of picking up the bodies amidst all the hats and umbrellas and apples and oranges scattered all over the ground.


The previous day had been Bloody Sunday and, thanks to a new book, The Bloodied Field, published by O’Brien Press, we now have a much more vivid and greater understanding of the frightening events that happened that time. Michael Foley of The Sunday Times had brilliantly captured another monumental moment in Irish sport with Kings of September: The Day Offaly Denied Kerry Five In A Row. He has now turned his attention to the dead of November, bringing those people and the climate of the time back to life. What follows is virtual cinema, though probably all the more important because of cinema. For younger and, indeed, older generations, their abiding image of that day is that from Neil Jordan’s Michael Collins: Machine-gun equipped armoured cars go into Croke Park and open fire. Jordan would explain his deviation from fact on the understandable grounds that he felt the machine-gunned tank captured the faceless callousness of imperialism more strikingly than soldiers shooting, explaining that “I wanted the scene to last 30 seconds”. The film was about Collins, not Bloody Sunday, but Bloody Sunday went on for much longer than 30 seconds and Foley here captures the mayhem before and on that day.


Spectators were crushed to death in the stampede to leave the ground. Those who got out fled to neighbouring houses, only for British forces to find some of them, up to 80 hiding under one roof, before they were marched to Croke Park to be searched. So were some players, though 12 of the 18 Tipperary players that travelled up to play that day were detained at gunpoint at a corner by the Railway wall near Hill 60, as it was then known. Eventually, they would be freed, as would all the women and children, but late into that evening thousands of people were still being searched.


It’s a time we can barely fathom now, yet there’s still a lot about The Bloodied Field with which today’s players and young can identify. The Tipperary and Dublin footballers, contrary to what some folk might assume, weren’t playing in the All-Ireland final that day, but, being two of the most improving and ambitious teams in the country, All-Irelands were certainly on their mind, which was why they were the two sides contesting a challenge game that would bring over 15,000 into Croke Park.


Tipp had lined out in the All-Ireland final 20 months earlier, foiled by a Wexford side that was winning its fourth title on the trot. They’d had a training camp in Dungarvan for that game, and lost by just a single point, one of their most reliable players, Gus McCarthy, uncharacteristically fluffing a late chance.


“They left Croke Park with the luxury of regret,” writes Foley. “What if Dick Heffernan’s point had stood? Gus McCarthy had made an error they would never expect from him. Some players wondered about the ferocity of the training in Dungarvan; had they done too much?”


Ninety-four years before Paul Durcan’s fluffed kickout, Colm McFadden’s late goal chance and the dubious merits of Donegal’s hugely intense pre-match camp in Enniskillen, a group of footballers had similar questions and regrets.


We discover too that, back then, there were also objections to Dublin having all their games in Croke Park, Wexford at one point railed against such an arrangement, before then having to accede.


For sure, though, times were different. When Tipp won that 1918 Munster championship, Davy Tobin had been one of their heroes, scoring the winning goal against Cork. Before the All-Ireland semi-final against Mayo was played, Davy was dead, one of the 10,000 in Ireland and 25m worldwide that year struck down by the Spanish flu. That 1918 All-Ireland final against Wexford wouldn’t be played until 1919 with all that was going on. When they’d play Wexford again two months later in a fundraising challenge game, there were 25,000 people there, a bigger attendance than had been at the All-Ireland.


That’s why so many people flocked to Croke Park that November Sunday, despite the rumblings there could be trouble after word spread that Collins’s special units had taken out 14 British intelligence and security servicemen. Dublin had qualified for the All-Ireland final but needed a challenge game, and Tipp wanted a game to keep them ticking over due to the Munster championship being delayed.


In fact, they had penned a letter in Sport newspaper, “We understand that Tipperary’s superiority over Dublin in football, despite two decisive [challenge game] victories by Tipperary, is being questioned by Dublin. We therefore challenge Dublin to a match on the first available date in any venue or any object.”


You wouldn’t get any players doing that now.


Or, the day before the game, going up on a train and engaging in a wrestling match with British soldiers. Or some of them out on the town the night before the game taking in a bar frequented by hookers and dockers. Or one of their opponents being part of a hit squad the morning of the match. Or, one of them being shot, as was 24-year-old Mick Hogan.


There would be some light after all that darkness. A long-forgotten footnote to Bloody Sunday is that Tipperary would make it through to play Dublin in that delayed 1920 All-Ireland final, coming out winners, their final point being kicked by Gus McCarthy, the man who missed that late chance against Wexford. Of course, in keeping with that timeless theme of the GAA, they did it for Mick.


Foley has also fittingly honoured him here. By ensuring Hogan and others are remembered, he’s produced a book that’s unforgettable.

[falveyb2k]

Foley also did kings of September which is excellent and won sports book of the year in 2006. I was full sure Jack was going to get it that year with Tom Humphries

[wayupnorth]

Oct 22, 2015 22:38:49 GMT falveyb2k said:

Foley also did kings of September which is excellent and won sports book of the year in 2006. I was full sure Jack was going to get it that year with Tom Humphries

It may be excellent but I could never bring myself to read that book as the memories are still too raw. I have read the Blody Sunday book and it is very good.