Peter McDermott: “ Keep it country “ was just one of the many catch cries of the late, great Pádraig Keane . And he wasn’t referring to country music ; no, he was referring to the sport he loved most, the
sport in which he excelled : cross country running . He was one of the greatest country runners
that Clonliffe ever had and, considering the fact that for many years the club was almost
exclusively a “ Harriers”which produced some of the finest distance runners in Ireland , that is
no mean accolade . He was also a poet , philosopher and raconteur. A most generous individual
with a joy for living – and living it to the full.
Autumn was Pádraig’s favourite time of the year : “When the leaves turned brown and the
mud started flying , that’s when I got going. I hadn’t much interest in the track . Give me the
cross country any day”. It had all started for Pádraig one Sunday in October 1967 . He had
returned from Mass in his lovely little hometown of Ballinlough , County Roscommon , when
he answered a knock on his door. “ Hello there” said the visitor , “ would you like to come for a
run ?” This was the start of a life long friendship between Pádraig and Frank Greally ( for it was
he ,the irrepressible individual who would go on to found The Irish Runner and achieve fame
as a runner, poet, author and singer ). Frank was on a mission that morning : his aim was to
get young Keane to run for Ballyhaunis A.C, in the Mayo Youths’ cross country championships
later that afternoon. Ballyhaunis was a man down as another member of the Club had decided
to compete in a boxing tournament instead . ( It was the era of Cassius Clay / Mohammed Ali
and lots of young bucks were throwing shapes and getting notions about their pugilistic
prowess ) A visa was hastily obtained to cross the county border and, in spite of his sister
Caroline threatening dire consequences if he ran for the ould enemy in Red and Green,
Pádraig found himself cycling six miles to the race . He had no running shoes but he had a pair
of brown suede shoes ( suede shoes being the height of fashion at that time ) and Pádraig duly
lined up for the race in his brown suede shoes. “ Elvis had his blue suede shoes , but I had my
brown ones and it’s many a race I won in them”. Pádraig finished 2 nd . in that first race and
Ballyhaunis won the team event . So, Pádraig came home with two shiny medals and two
muddy suede shoes.
He was also bitten by the running bug – a bug for which there is no cure. He started training,
aimlessly- as he would admit himself. “ I would just go out and run six miles as hard and as fast
as I could “. He would occasionally be joined by the recruiting officer Greally and , if they saw a
car coming, they’d jump over a wall and hide until it had passed. “ Sure, in those days they’d
think you were mad if they saw you out running . Luckily , there weren’t too many cars around
back then”. But Pádraig began to notch up victory after victory on the Connacht cross country
scene , winning Youth, Junior , Novice and Intermediate titles. He also signed for Moore A.C .
(signing on fee unknown ) , the only athletic club in Roscommon at the time, thereby averting
civil war among the Keane siblings. And, considering Pádraig’s growing reputation , it was no
great surprise when the newly formed B.L.E. invited the young prospect to a rare coaching
conference in U.C.G. It was organised by Pádraig Griffin and Dr. Murt Hynes ; men ahead of
their time in irish coaching . Pádraig remembers going for a run that weekend with some of the
finest distance runners in the country at that time: John Buckley ( Blarney A.C.) , Fr. Paddy
Coyle ( Lourdes A.C.) and Matt Murphy ( Rising Sun A.C.) . As might be expected ,the pace
started to pick up and Pádraig was tempted to match strides with them. But Matt Murphy told
him to slow down and ignore the guys who were testing each other up front . “ Training is training and racing is racing “ said Matt “ leave the racing for the races” It was a lesson Pádraig
never forgot and, in later years, many a Clonliffe athlete was reprimanded by Pádraig for
pushing the pace too hard on some of the famous ( or infamous ) 15 -17 mile “pack runs “on
Winter nights. “ Come back , you f***in’ eejit , it’s not a race “ was his forceful admonition to
the young ( or not so young) offender.
Like many a young man of his generation ,especially from the neglected ( some might say
“ignored” ) West of Ireland, Pádraig left school after his Primary Cert. and took the boat to
England to look for work. Some would argue that a curtailed education can be a blessing in
disguise as it saves young people from group-think; they escape the fetters of formal ,rigid
methods of imposing conventional patterns of thought on their fertile minds. “ If everybody is
thinking the same way , is anybody actually thinking ? ” Suffice to say that Pádraig became one
of the most original thinkers one could meet in a long day’s travel. A person would need to
have all his facts straight before entering into discourse with Pádraig . If he heard somebody
telling a story which sounded illogical or downright nonsensical , he would close one eye, take
a long draught of his pint and then say “ My learned friend , I’m afraid I must disagree with you
….” And he would then proceed to demolish the story or argument which he had just heard .
In the current era of fake news and fake video clips created by artificial intelligence we could
do with Pádraig’s unerring ability to distinguish truth from lies. He could also come up with an
angle to a story that had not occurred to anybody else. Even his great friend, Jerry Kiernan (
who was no mean debater himself ) had to admit that “ Pádraig was always right”. Heated
discussions between those two team mates didn’t prevent them from being the greatest of
friends. “ The Great Hairy One “ or “ The Right Honourable Member from Dublin South “ were
the names Pádraig usually gave to Jerry.
Pádraig got a job in Manchester and continued his training . He used to run along the tow path
beside the Manchester ship canal. He joined Sale Harriers, and was a member of their team
which won a 100 mile relay race . Each member ran 1 mile and they averaged 4:57. He also got
the opportunity to watch his beloved United in the flesh and saw the legendary Charlton, Law
and Best in Old Trafford every second Saturday . But he wasn’t prejudiced and, on the
weekends when United were playing away , Pádraig would go to Maine Road to see City.
But Ireland was calling him home and, in 1970, Pádraig returned and got a job in Dublin . He
had intended to join his old friend Greally in Donore Harriers. It is said that in any sport a club
should strengthen its squad when it’s already strong – and Donore were incredibly strong at
that time . They were winning National Senior cross country titles for fun and with men like
Tom O’Riordan , Jim McNamara , Bertie Messit, Tony Murphy,Tony Brien , John Sheridan ,Eddie
Spillane , et al. they could probably have beaten the Irish Senior International team . Indeed ,
THEY would constitute almost the entire Irish team ! And now this young wunderkind was
going to join them as well. But a funny thing happened to Pádraig on his way to Hospital Lane ,
Islandbridge. He had been told by his learned friend from Ballyhaunis that he would phone
him in his digs and make arrangements to bring him to Donore or ,at least, give him
instructions how to get there by bus. “ I’m still waiting for that call” , said Pádraig many years
later . The narrative gets a little clouded at that point . ( And, of course, it changes with every
telling ) One version has Pádraig sitting on the roadside with his running gear in a plastic bag
hoping that his friend knew where he was and would drop by to pick him up. Instead , just
when he was about to abandon all hope , along came a friendly looking man with a large ruddy
face and asked if he was in trouble . Pádraig told the man his tale and the stranger, introducing
himself as one Laro Byrne , informed him that he himself was in fact en route to a race in
Santry and that he’d be only too pleased to bring him there if he still wished to go for a run .
And, as The Bard might say, “ Therein lies a tale “……
It was just a Club race in Santry Woods but , in those days, all the top runners would take part
in those races . And so , Pádraig found himself lining up alongside Olympians Danny McDaid,
Frank Murphy ( “ Big Frank” ), and Internationals like Des McCormack ,Paddy Marley, George
McIntyre and Tom Gregan. One can only imagine the surprise on the faces of the Club Captain
and officials ( men like Harry Cooney , Sam Grey, and Jack Deegan) when this young stranger
beat everybody except McDaid. Needless to say , the mentors didn’t take long before deciding
that this unpolished diamond had to be signed up fast. And so it began : Pádraig’s long ,
illustrious career in the Black and Amber instead of the beautifully simple White and Black of
Donore .
Under the guidance of Laro Byrne , Pádraig made rapid progress . He developed so quickly that
Laro gave him the supreme accolade which he used only rarely “ That young man’s father must
have drank brandy in his youth”. (It’s an old joke in athletics – with perhaps an element of
surreal truth- that if you wish to be a good athlete you must choose your parents very
carefully. Laro threw in another pre-condition : your father had to be a regular brandy drinker.)
In February 1971 he won the National Junior Cross Country Championship leaving one Eamonn
Coghlan almost 100m. in his wake . He represented Ireland in the International Cross Country
Championship in San Sebastian on the same day as one David Bedford ( who reputedly ran up
to 200 miles per week in training ) won the Senior race .
The following year Pádraig finished sixth in the National Senior XC Championship and , while
still a Junior , nailed down his place on the Irish Senior team for the World Cross in Cambridge .
He was joined on the team by his old friend Greally and he remembered the race being won by
Gaston Roelants of Belgium who had won the Olympic Steeplechase title in Tokyo. It was the
first of three World Cross Country C’ships. in which Pádraig competed .
But ,on the club scene, the seemingly invincible Donore squad continued to dominate Irish
distance running . Their “ hegemony”, as the learned Jerry described it , seemed to be set to
continue indefinitely . But, at the start of the 1975-76 season , the new Clonliffe captain Christy
Brady knew that he had a youthful team of talented runners who cared little for the reputation
of any individual or club. They had all tasted success at Junior level , winning the National title
at that level almost every year in the early 70s. Pádraig had set the trend by winning the
National Junior championship in 1971. His success was emulated by Frank Murphy ( “ Young
Frank” ) in 1972 . Jerry Kiernan kept the trend going in ’73 while Gerry Finnegan was a close
Runner-Up in 1974 . ( Despite being slagged by his team mates for not maintaining the winning
streak , his Silver medal was no mean achievement when one considers that the young man
who beat him was a lad from Waterford called John Treacy ) And so , Christy and his young
team ( backed up by a few ould lads of 25 or so ) plotted the downfall of the great Donore .
The first indication that the plan was on course came in Belfield on the last Sunday before
Christmas ’75 when Clonliffe packed seven runners into the top 13 . ( And the guy in 13 th . did
not get a medal even though it was six to score in those days ! ) But still the doubts persisted :
suppose the experienced Donore squad were wily, timing their peak to perfection and not
worried too much about losing a mere county title ? After all , it was still two months to the
National .
January and February passed all too quickly-and not without a crisis or two . Gerry Finnegan
got his usual chest infection but , also as usual , was back running as well as ever in two weeks.
And Pádraig ? Well , he nearly got killed in a car crash just two weeks before the big day.
Coming back from a race in Roscommon , where he had won the Connacht Championship, the
car in which he was travelling skidded on ice ,did a double somersault before coming back on
its wheels . There wasn’t a scratch on Pádraig but, as he said himself, he “was still combing
glass out of my hair the night before the National “ . The race was in Garbally College ,
Ballinasloe and it marked the changing of the Guard . The four young horsemen , led home by
the indomitable Finnegan , had a comfortable victory over Leevale with the gallant defending
champions , Donore , pushed back to third. Pádraig had won the first of many National Senior
Cross Country Gold medals.
Pádraig held Christy Brady in very high esteem – and the feeling was mutual. Pádraig
considered Christy to be a very knowledgeable coach and a shrewd psychologist . He wouldn’t
go so far as dubbing Christy a “ sport psychologist” as he had no time at all for those “ witch
doctors “ as he called them. Christy took Pádraig under his wing and “ minded” him when he
needed minding . On one occasion , the night before the National Road Relays , Pádraig was a
bold boy and had a few scoops too many . Christy left him home and ,as they departed , said
“ Do you think you’ll be able to run tomorrow ?”. “ I won’t let you down, Christy “ was
Pádraig’s parting remark. The next day , in the Phoenix Park , despite feeling dreadful until
shortly before the race , Pádraig ran an absolute blinder, posting the fastest time for the long ,
3 mile leg and bringing Clonliffe home in first place . ( It was another illustration of John
Treacy’s theory which he stated after he broke the Irish record for 5000m. in Belfield some
years later: “ I knew I was going to run well I felt so dreadful in the warmup”. ) Pádraig was
rewarded for his efforts by getting “ the biggest bear hug in my life” from a delighted Christy .
Pádraig continued to be an absolute stalwart for Clonliffe – the rock and foundation on which
many more National titles were built . He has the extraordinary, unequalled record of winning
fifteen Dublin Senior Cross Country Gold medals in a twenty year period.
In the late 1970s he joined the Irish army and was stationed in the Curragh . The army was
assembling an elite athletic squad at that time and Pádraig revelled in this new environment.
He trained and raced with such fine athletes as Brendan Downey , Paddy Murphy , Brian
Keeney and Paul Delaney . They covered huge mileage running over the plains of Kildare and
“ they were all bloody tough runners”. Probably the highlight of this phase of Pádraig’s career
was when he represented Ireland in the World Military Games in Finland and finished 2 nd . in
the marathon in 2:22. He now had a World Championship medal to add to his huge collection
of Dublin , Provincial and National medals.
When he returned home , instead of getting a hero’s welcome and being féted by the army , he
was reprimanded by a sergeant major because beer bottles and cigarette butts were found in
Pádraig’s quarters . Pádraig tried to point out that he couldn’t possibly be the culprit : he had
been away all week at the Military Games, he never smoked in his life and he was hardly likely
to be drinking before a World Championship. But this unreasonable, authoritarian figure would
not listen and told Pádraig he had no right to speak in his defence. This left Pádraig feeling very
disillusioned and , shortly after , decided to leave the Army .
But then Pádraig’s luck turned and, around this time, he met his lovely wife Mary . They got
married , settled in Swords and reared a family of two boys and a girl . He always referred
affectionately to Mary as “ The Leader of the Opposition”, while freely acknowledging that it
was she who kept him on the straight and narrow. He also got a permanent job working with
Paddy Marley in the Sacred Heart Retirement Home in Raheny. Just across the road from St.
Anne’s Park : ideal for those lunchtime runs ( and arguments) with Marley , Tony ( Blisters )
Murphy and even some strays from Raheny Shamrock A.C. Those runs would be peppered
with banter : if Tony, a life long Leeds fan, ever referred to “United”, Pádraig would remind
him “ there is only ONE United – and it’s not Leeds”.
He continued his running career well into the Veteran or Masters’ stage . He was the hot
favourite to win the Masters’ title in 1991, but his old friend and rival , Jim McGlynn of Donore
( who had also briefly run for Clonliffe ), stuck to him like a leech and outsprinted him in the
home straight . Afterwards ,Pádraig summed up how he felt during the race with one of his
memorable quotes : “ I felt like Long John Silver and McGlynn was the parrot on my shoulder”.
We don’t get colourful quotes like that any more when athletes are interviewed post race ! He
missed the next year through injury and it was felt that his chance of the individual National
title was gone . But Pádraig bounced back ( again ) and ,in 1994, he won the National Masters’
Cross Country title ,thereby completing a remarkable collection of National medals at Junior ,
Intermediate , Senior and Masters’ levels. He became Captain of Clonliffe Harriers for just one
year when he was , as Dick Hooper might say in “ the player-manager stage of his career”. And
, under his captaincy , the Club duly regained the National Senior Cross Country title which we
had lost the previous year. And so , Pádraig became the only Captain with a 100% record in the
National. An enviable record of which he often reminded us on many memorable nights in the
Club Bar.
Pádraig was always a deep and original thinker and was fearless in expressing his opinions . At
a memorable Clonliffe A.G,M in the Autumn of 1979 it was proposed that the ownership of the
stadium should, to all extents and purposes , be ceded to the Government and Fingal County
Council . The club, quite simply , could no longer afford the maintenance of the track let alone
contemplate the laying of a new one. Clonliffe would, however, together with Fingal County
Council and the Department of Education and Sport, continue to share in the management of
the Stadium . But this was akin to heresy and treachery in the opinion of some older members .
Give up the ownership of the stadium which had been founded by Billy Morton and had been
built and sustained by the hard work and sacrifices of many idealistic members throughout the
1950s and 60s ? Absolutely abhorrent and unacceptable. Pádraig was listening to this heated
discussion for some time and then, eventually , stood up and said “ Gentlemen , the rest of the
world has been competing for over ten years now on tartan while we’re trying to preserve a
surface that has long since gone out of date . My learned friends : do you not realise that that
track out there right now is fit for nothing only growing cabbage. ?” Uproar ensued . Cries of
“ Order ! Order !” which would not have sounded out of place in the hallowed halls of
Westminster, reverberated around the old shebeen . But Pádraig’s intervention won the day
( showing how much he and his arguments were respected ) and ten months later a brand new
tartan track had been laid and luminaries such as Eamonn Coghlan, Steve Scott and Alberto
Salazar were competing on it .
He had many forceful opinions on several subjects ( In fact , nearly all his opinions were
forceful ) . For instance, he was quite sceptical about the efficacy of stretching before running
but believed it was worthwhile after a race or training. Similarly, he did not subscribe to the
craze of having ice baths after training. He believed that letting cold water from the shower
flow on one’s legs was equally good or Standing in “a barrel of rain water” was equally
effective . It is interesting that sport science now agrees that such extreme measures as icebaths are not necessary for recovery .
He reserved a special ire for Sport Psychologists. He believed that those “ witch doctors” had
nothing substantial to offer a strong minded athlete , that they were simply exploiting the
anxieties of those sports people who were lacking in confidence.
In 2010, on the 40th.anniversary of his winning the first Morton Mile , the truly legendary Kip
Keino ( “the first of the Great African Runners “ ) paid a sentimental return visit to Santry.
After looking around the famous old stadium , Keino came into the Clonliffe Bar and kindly
agreed to a short question and answer session. Pádraig was sipping his pint and listening
attentively to this double Olympic champion – a true legend and one of the most humble of
men. The Right Honourable Member from Roscommon West had just one question for the
great man: “ Mr. Keino” , said Pádraig , “ did you have a sport psychologist when you were
competing ? ” Keino said he had not and ,indeed , admitted that he had only recently heard of
such people . “ Thank you Mr. Keino” , said a rather smug looking Mr. Keane, returning to his
pint with a smile playing on his lips.
He had no time for pretence of any kind. He often excoriated RTE for its inadequate athletic
coverage and its frequent inaccurate sport reporting . Thinking there were too many prima
donnas in Montrose , he dubbed it “ Little Hollywood”. He had no time for poseurs . Years after
we had become team mates and firm friends, he looked at me one night while sipping his
Bailey’s Cream ( a ritual which always prefigured his imminent departure from the Clonliffe
Bar) and told me bluntly : “ Pether , the first time I saw you I hated you”. I remembered the
occasion : the Roscommon County Track championships in Orchard Park , Elphin in late May
- I was taken aback . “But why Pádraig ?” I spluttered, “ We didn’t even know each other
at that stage . “ I saw you warming up, “ he replied “ And you were wearing your fancy fking U.C.D. track suit”. In Pádraig’s estimation this was a sure sign of a poseur or “ A Put On” in Rossie speak. A gobste with “notions”. But later he overheard me saying that I had to rush
off in order to help my father milk the cows and he said “ It was then I decided you probably
weren’t too bad. You were one of us”. You always knew where you stood with Pádraig !
While he had no time for sport psychologists , he did believe in psychology; he was simply
convinced that it could not be divided into sub-categories. He displayed a clever touch of
psychology himself on one occasion with his life long buddy. In 1983 The Great Hairy One,
Jerry, had been selected for the World Cross but, after a disastrous run in the Jack Hartnett
race in Naas two weeks before the Worlds , he decided that he was going to withdraw from the
team . But then Padraig ( whisper it … the Sport Psychologist ) went into action . He went to
some considerable lengths to convince Jerry that he had “got the bad run out of his system”
and that, as a result , there would be no pressure on him for the Big One . Jerry was not
convinced so Pádraig threw aside the psychology and went for the módh díreach : “ Now listen
Hairy Lugs : you’re getting on that fing plane and running that fing race even if I have to
f***ing drag you”. So , Jerry did just that and ,sure enough , he ran a blinder . Jerry started
slowly on a very tough course in Gateshead ( “ there were only a couple of Arabs with their
flowing head dress behind me after the first half mile “) but he worked his way through the
field until he finished an excellent 29 th . out of 210 finishers.
In his role as Jerry’s psychologist , Pádraig also felt it was his duty to keep The GHO grounded .
Shortly after his phenomenal 9 th . place finish in the Olympic Marathon in LA in 1984, Jerry was
out for a cross country run with his Club mates. They gave a wide berth to a muddy puddle
which lay on the course. But Pádraig made a beeline for the puddle and stamped in it , thereby
dousing Jerry with brown , muddy water. “ What did you do that for? “ said a slightly shocked
Jerry . “ Just because you were 9 th . in the Olympics doesn’t mean we’re going to treat you any
different” was Pádraig’s retort. Jerry doubled up in laughter . “ You know “ he said to the rest
of us, “ I got a couple of lucrative offers to stay in the US and join a professional road racing
team . But I turned them down . The U.S.A. has every facility you could possibly need ; But
there’s one thing they don’t have – and that is P.Keane “.
When they travelled abroad to run for Clonliffe in the European Clubs’ Cross Country
Championships they insisted on rooming together . When they first entered their hotel room
the first thing they had to do was, in their own words, “ trash the place”.
No, relax : not an iota of property was ever broken or damaged . They just wanted to make it
more “comfortable” , to give it “ a lived in appearance and feeling”. So everything was tipped
from their luggage onto the beds or the floor . This largely consisted of track suits , shorts ,
vests , socks, training shoes , spikes, towels , water bottles, etc. ,etc. All the paraphernalia of
the competitive athlete . And , having fixed their nests , like two “clucking hens”, they then felt
comfortable. But , as Paddy Marley put it , it looked as if a bomb had hit the place.
He had a wicked, mischievous sense of humour. When out on a long “pack run” with Clonliffe
on Winter nights Pádraig couldn’t resist at times from playing a bit of “devilment” on people
who would be out for a walk. If we came upon a young couple holding hands or having a quick
snog, Pádraig would pat the amorous young man on the shoulder and say in an admonishing
tone of voice “ Less of that in public please “. By the time the young Romeo had recovered
from the shock Pádraig would be at least 30 metres ahead and all the young lad could do was
shout after him “ F ***k off , ya bleedin’ culchie ya! “
Pádraig had firm opinions on just about everything – and wasn’t reluctant to voice them .
While approving of various methods to enliven track meets , many of which were only
marginally more exciting than watching paint dry, he strongly disapproved of loud music. He
walked out of a Morton Meet in protest against the obtrusive music blaring out over the P.A.
He even barred himself from returning for a spell as a protest against this abomination. He was
no stranger to being exiled for making principled stands. He and Laro Byrne got barred from
the Old Shebeen on one occasion by a rather pedantic bar man for wearing shorts. It was a
beautiful , sunny evening in mid-Summer but the bar man felt that standards had to be
preserved and that the apparel of the Terrible Two was not in keeping with the dress code or
possibly the ethos of Clonliffe Harriers ( does Clonliffe have an ethos ? ). Lowering the tone and
all that . Well , it was only a short walk to the Swiss Cottage where no such restrictions applied.
And after they had their usual series of arguments they toasted each other and Laro once more
told Pádraig that he was “ A scholar , a gentleman and a judge of fine whiskey”.
He was a great supporter of the Irish football team and rarely missed a match in Lansdowne
Road , later the Aviva Stadium . But he tended to get extremely nervous watching “ The Boys in
Green “. He had a strange sort of prescience in football matters . When , to everybody’s
surprise, ( including, it seemed, the FAI itself ) Jack Charlton was appointed team manager in
1986 , Pádraig was one of the very first to give him a vote of confidence. “ Jack’s the man “ was
how he expressed his pithy approval on that occasion. Two years later he was watching Ireland
v. England on TV in the Euro Finals . He was just one of a packed crowd in the Clonliffe
Shebeen watching that historic match from Stuttgart . He wasn’t the only one who wished that
Ray Houghton hadn’t scored so early as we had to endure 85 minutes of nail biting tension
after he put us 1-0 up. At half time Pádraig could take no more . So, he set out for a walk
around “The Top 5 ” ( a five mile route used in many Clonliffe club races.) As he returned back ,
near the stadium , he met a contented looking old man who was sitting outside his house .
Almost trembling with trepidation , Pádraig asked the pipe smoking old man who won the
match . “ Oh, Ireland did” said the calm old timer. Pádraig shook the man’s hand : “ We’re as good as any of them now” said an emotional Pádraig to the man who seemed completely
nonplussed by Pádraig’s reaction.
Pádraig became much cooler and calmer later in life –or at least gave that impression . No
matter how shocking a piece of news or scandal might be , Pádraig would just shrug and say
“ Oh well, sure you get this sort of thing in built up areas”. You could tell him that the
Taoiseach had eloped with his secretary or that the Pope had become a communist and the
response would be no different .
He remained deeply sceptical of “learned people”. He was not particularly impressed by
individuals with a Ph.D. after their name. “ I don’t care how many f**king degrees they have , if
they haven’t got the CS it’s no use”. You had to have the CS ( common sense ) in order to
impress Pádraig.
He could be extremely funny : he had the ability to look at matters from a different
perspective . For instance one of his favourite expressions , as he tackled another creamy pint ,
was “ Drink is my enemy …. but love your enemies , said Christ”. On one occasion , while
visiting friends and relatives in New York ,Pádraig was strolling down Seventh Avenue ( Fashion
Avenue ) when he espied a member of the NYPD approaching him. “Excuse me Officer “ said a
very polite and straight faced Padraig , “ Would you happen to know did Super Ros win
today?” “ I beg your pardon , Sir” said the officer “I’m afraid I don’t understand : Super Ros ?
Super Bowl ? – some sort of ball game ?” “ Ah no” replied the bould Ballinlough man “ You
know – the Rosssies , did they bate Mayo ? They were playing in the Hyde today. “ “ Sorry Sir,
can’t help you there , I’m afraid” said the police man . And, with that, Pádraig walked on
leaving a bemused Blue Blood standing there scratching his head.
He claimed to have immortalised Brian Keeney in a short poem which he composed while
rushing for a train : Keeney and Keane // Running for a train // Keeney slipped and missed the
train// Keane ran on but did the same . ( Perhaps he was thinking of the mythical train which
Laro Byrne often referred to : when “The Panzers” – the Clonliffe guys going for a 17 mile run
on a Thursday night- were leaving the old Nissen hut , and some tardy individuals were still
only putting on their Adidas Gazelles or lacing up their Onitsuka Tigers, Laro would shout “
Hurry up ! The Lisa Jane is leaving “ )
Many years before Lord Coe suggested that cross country running might be reinstalled as
an Olympic sport, Pádraig had proposed exactly that same motion at a Clonliffe A.G.M.
Some laughed at him but when the great Mr. Coe suggested the same thing , it was
considered a stroke of genius. Skate boarding, break dancing , artistic swimming ….. all
have been included in the Olympic programme but we still await the sport in which the
great Paavo Nurmi won four of his nine Gold medals. He also had a revolutionary idea for
rejuvenating the National Senior Track and Field Championships. He proposed that a prize
fund of £1 million per annum be set up with the winner of each event taking up to £5000
with a sliding scale down to £750 for 8th. This would be financed by placing a levy of £1
on every competitor in the multitude of road races that take place every week all over the
country . There would also be a levy of £10 on every permit issued by the AAI to the
promoters of these road races. He argued that the battle just to make finals would be
ferocious as athletes would know that simply making a final would result in a prize of at
least £750. And that was typical of Pádraig : always thinking , always coming up with ideas
. Some of them might be dismissed as hare brained or even “ bizarre” ( to use one of his
own favourite terms ) but nobody could deny that they were original. And , if you rejected
his idea , he’d challenge you to come up with a better one . That might leave you
floundering while Pádraig sipped his Bailey’s Cream ( His drink of choice when it came to “
one for the road” ).
He was deeply suspicious of “experts” , especially in the whole area of athletics coaching. In
spite of all the apparent expertise , Pádraig bemoaned the decline in standards, particularly in
distance running. He believed that CS had been replaced by BS. With typical Pádraig-like
originality and inventiveness , he coined a word for something which he regarded as being
even worse than BS., namely “Bolloxology” . Woe betide you if he considered you to be talking
this lowest form of BS.
(It’s disappointing to note that this very expressive word has not ,as yet, found its way into the
New Oxford Dictionary although it has actually been used in a number of BBC dramas. )
Sadly , Pádraig did not live long enough to see the rejuvenation of distance running and the
flood of new Irish records from 800m. to the marathon . Pádraig passed away, at the relatively
young age of 64, on an unseasonably sunny day in January 2016. Everybody who knew him was
shocked, as we all thought he was indestructible. Pádraig was one of the toughest , strongest
and most resilient of men who ever wore a Clonliffe vest: how could he be gone ?.
The church in Swords was overflowing for his funeral Mass and hundreds of his old friends,
team mates and rivals travelled from all over the country to show their respect. His old team
mate and mentor , the great Danny McDaid travelled all the way from Donegal as did other
members of that great Donegal contingent who had joined Clonliffe back in the 60s, men such
as Hugo Duggan and Jim Boyle. Many of his fiercest rivals were there too , all testifying to their
enormous respect for this man who epitomised the true spirit of Sport : no quarter asked or
given in the heat of battle but absolutely no hard feelings afterwards . Indeed , somebody
suggested that a most apt epitaph on his tomb stone would be “ He was a man who never
held a grudge” . And is that not a marvellous way to be remembered ?
Later that year , the first Pádraig Keane Memorial Road Races were held in his beloved
Ballinlough . Some ran 5K , others 10. He would have been delighted to see his old team mates,
Rashers Tierney and The Great Hairy One, shuffling around the streets of the little town . Much
slower now than in the golden days of Summer when they could routinely run under 14
minutes for the shorter distance, but determined to run and finish in honour of their friend.
Jerry brought his protégés , Joe Sweeney ( who had finished 5 th . in the European Cross country
Championships the previous December ) and former Inter-Counties National champion , Alan
McCormack , to run this race as an homage to a fallen warrior. And he would have been very
gratified also to see so many of his old friends from Moore A.C. there, his first official athletic
club. Perhaps most of all he would be thrilled to see his niece Laura Tuite winning the
Women’s race . And he’d be utterly delighted to see his wife Mary complete the course as well
as his two strong sons , Conor ( a Clonliffe man ) and Donal ( A Rossie footballer ). Not
forgetting above all, perhaps, the apple of his eye, his beloved daughter, Róisín .
In this politically correct age , when “characters” as rich as Pádraig are becoming increasingly
thin on the ground, his blunt honesty and plain speaking are sorely missed. After they made
Pádraig , they threw away the mould but he will always be cherished by those who knew and
loved him . A number of photographs , situated appropriately in what has become known as
“Pádraig’s Corner” in the Clonliffe Bar, show his rugged strength and determination in racing as
well as the mischievous glint in his eye when in more relaxed mode. Even in a Club which has
produced so many memorable characters , Pádraig has earned his place in what Jerry would
have called “ The Pantheon of All Time Greats “. Truly, and sadly , we shall not see his likes
again.
