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The Irish Sun
19-07-2025
- Sport
- The Irish Sun
Pat Ryan challenges Cork GAA heroes to channel Gods of yesterday to answer fans' prayers of All-Ireland hurling title
SEVENTY minutes away from ending a 20-year wait, Pat Ryan is verging on becoming a figure of worship in Cork. But at his side's press night ahead of Advertisement 3 Cork face Tipperary in the All-Ireland hurling final Credit: Sam Barnes/Sportsfile 3 Pat Ryan challenged Cork to challenge previous heroes Credit: Piaras Ó Mídheach/Sportsfile 3 Manager Jimmy Barry Murphy of the Cork hurling jubilee 1999 All Ireland winning team Credit: Brendan Moran/Sportsfile He asked: 'What happened to him? What happened to Jesus Christ again?' When the response cited the resurrection of the Son of God, the Ryan's reign was on the brink of being condemned to its demise when Championship campaign in 2024. But the nails and the cross were soon discarded. Advertisement Read More on GAA The prayers of Rebels supporters were answered in the form of a stirring display against Ten weeks later, Cork found themselves in possession of a seven-point lead during the All-Ireland final. An epic contest ultimately yielded an extra-time victory for Clare by the narrowest of margins, though the first available shot at redemption has been seized. With their fans desperate to see the Liam MacCarthy Cup on Leeside for the first time since 2005, Ryan's men are backed by a fervent following that has been enchanted by a brand of Advertisement Most read in GAA Hurling Unprecedented numbers travelled to Despite being in enemy territory, the red horde 'Easiest interview I've ever had' jokes RTE GAA host after pundits go back and forth before Meath vs Donegal Amid the county's longest-ever All-Ireland drought, Corkonians have been fuelled by raw hope. But hype is the buzzword that has attached itself to the movement thanks to stunts such as a bookmaker's decision to crown their team champions before a ball was even pucked. Back at ground zero, a Advertisement But Ryan admitted at the time that he was irked by some of the 'stupid stuff' that was said and written about his side. Speaking ahead of tomorrow's clash with Tipp, he remarked: 'What is hype? I don't even know what the word means or what it is. 'But you want excitement, you want fellas going to the matches, you want fellas talking about it. That's all brilliant. What annoyed me was that it was just over the top. Advertisement 'Fellas writing off Limerick and stuff like that was driving me mad. How was that going to benefit us as a team or benefit anyone as a team? 'We kind of have a situation where we're playing very traditional Cork hurling. 'I think there was a huge appetite all the time for Cork to go back playing really typical, traditional Cork hurling. 'That was something we wanted to do and get the fans behind us, because we knew if we got that kind of fan base behind us, we had the numbers. Advertisement 'How many clubs are we? Is it 258 clubs or something we have? So you're getting the numbers behind you. 'It's not idiotic to think that's why Dublin won all their All-Irelands, because they had thousands at the matches and when it came down to it, it made a huge difference. Even in the Dublin-Limerick game, when it came down the stretch and all the Dublin football fans came in, it gave them a boost. That's how we looked at it. 'That 16th man was going to be realistic for us and it was going to be a huge thing. 'It makes a huge difference to the players that people want to support them and they're looking at good things. Advertisement 'There's a lot of negativity on GETTING CARRIED AWAY Earlier this week, Ryan admitted to being guilty of 'probably managing instead of leading' at times during his tenure. As Cork look to go one better than last year, he shone the spotlight on himself in search of areas for improvement The Sarsfields man said: 'You look at yourself first and see what you're doing. I think me being more focused on the playing side of it, all the stuff that was happening on the pitch, really focusing on that. Advertisement 'Sometimes you can get carried away with the logistics side of it and I have a brilliant fella who looks after all our logistics, Dave Nolan. 'But you get carried away with making sure that the food is right, the gear is right, the travel is right and how our pitches are right and all that side of it. 'I think me being more focused and how we can deliver that better, and my interactions with players . . . I got plenty of feedback off the players. We met the players one to one and I got plenty of feedback off the players. Sometimes you try to be as honest as you can with players and then sometimes you're probably trying not to hurt feelings. 'I think a lot of the players would have come to me and said, 'Maybe you just need to be a bit more honest sometimes with us and just tell us what we need to do exactly'. Advertisement 'Sometimes you might be, for want of a better word, pussy-footing around the situation, but it was being a bit more direct and I think that's something that I've done this year. 'It's something I probably need to get better at all the time. It's a work in progress.' 'The Teddy McCarthys, the Tomás Muls, the Jim Cashmans, the Jimmy Barry-Murphys, the Seánie O'Learys — they were gods." A Cork team has not taken residence at the summit in two decades, so the objective for the current crop is to create a legacy of their own. However, the manager feels they must do so while upholding the rich hurling heritage of a county whose roll of honour includes 30 All-Ireland senior titles. Advertisement Ryan, who turns 49 next week, said: 'I think that's the standard. 'That's what we have to live up to, what the Cork jersey represents to the people of Cork. 'Fellas might say it's cocky or arrogant — we haven't won an All-Ireland in 20 years — but I can only talk about my generation. 'I grew up in that situation and the Cork jersey has to mean something to everyone every time you put it on. That goes back to the public following us. Advertisement 'When the public see that you're representing the jersey right and you're doing it in the right way and you're giving everything for the jersey, no matter win, lose or draw, they'll still back you. 'As I keep saying to the lads, they'll criticise me. They'll say, 'Pat Ryan should've made this decision or Pat Ryan should've done that'. 'But the lads gave everything and that's what you're looking to do all the time. To be honest, that's the way I grew up. 'The players I grew up idolising in the 80s, there kind of was no soccer, there was no Advertisement 'The Teddy McCarthys, the Tomás Muls, the Jim Cashmans, the Jimmy Barry-Murphys, the Seánie O'Learys — they were gods. 'It's like the
Irish Examiner
18-07-2025
- Politics
- Irish Examiner
Cork people give their views on renaming of redeveloped city centre park
Corkonians have been vocal in their criticism of proposals to rename the city's Bishop Lucey Park amid concerns that a change may undermine their city's historical integrity. Passers-by near the amenity made their feelings known to the Irish Examiner following its closure to the public in December 2023 for redevelopment. Councillors in Cork City Hall recently voted 17-11 to approve a section 140 motion submitted by Workers' Party councillor Ted Tynan, Green Party councillor Oliver Moran, and Social Democrats councillor Niamh O'Connor, calling for the renaming process. Mr Tynan said much of the documented clerical abuse — sexual, physical, or psychological — occurred during Bishop Lucey's time, both as a serving priest and as bishop of the Diocese of Cork and Ross from his appointment in 1952 until his retirement in 1980. Fianna Fáil councillor Terry Shannon objected to the move, criticising what he described as 'this headlong rush to change for, what many people, are the old certainties'. Delia Manning: 'The name should stay as it is.' Picture: Chani Anderson Some people on the streets of Cork shared his views, including Delia Manning. 'Absolutely not,' Delia told this newspaper. 'The name should stay as it is. Bishop Lucey Park is here as long as it is and people are familiar with it. Why change it when it's part of Cork City? I say leave it as it is. We are all familiar with it and I'd like to see it stay that way. Ken Aherne was also taken aback by the proposals. 'Historically, it's known as Bishop Lucey Park. I don't see a particular need to change it. I'm one of those people who believes that cities have their own individual histories and these histories should be preserved where possible. There is no need for a name change.' He said that while he has no objections to 'Páirc na mBan Chorcaí' - a name suggested by Workers' Party councillor Ted Tynan - he feels it may not resonate, given the location. 'Places like Bessborough, where women really suffered, is where these tributes should be. I don't think Bishop Lucey Park has any connections like that.' Ken Aherne: 'I don't see a particular need to change it.' Picture: Chani Anderson Meanwhile, Lee O'Keeffe said he doesn't feel the proposed new name makes sense. 'I don't think the name should be changed but if it is to be renamed, I don't think it should be Páirc na mBan Chorcaí. I think something more relevant to the area would work better. "Something like UCC Páirc might make sense since Western Road is close to the park.' Some admitted they knew little about the bishop it was named after. Tony Kelliher: 'I don't have a problem with it staying the same and I don't have a problem with it changing either.' Picture: Chani Anderson Tony Kelleher added: 'I wouldn't know much about the man really but it's a traditional thing and that's what it's always been known as. I don't have a problem with it staying the same and I don't have a problem with it changing either. "I certainly have no problem with it being changed to Páirc na mBan Chorcaí. Why not?' Ruby Poland said she is supportive of a name change. Ruby Poland: 'Good to have less ties to Catholicism in the city.' Picture: Chani Anderson 'I suppose it's good to have less ties to Catholicism in the city,' she told the Irish Examiner. I think we need a better name to represent us as Irish people rather than Catholics. The proposed new name is a lot more inclusive so it's better for women. Denis Ryan, however, was keen to retain the name. 'Even though I'm new to Cork I'd keep it the same. I don't think I'd want to see a change.' Bishop Lucey became Bishop of Cork in 1952, with the diocese of Ross added six years later. He built five new churches named after the five Glorious Mysteries of the Rosary in the city's rapidly developing suburbs, and went on to oversee the foundation of 13 churches during his time as bishop. The historical figure set up St Anne's Adoption Society in 1954 and started the Cork diocesan mission to Peru in the mid-1960s. He died in 1982, and the park was named in his honour when it opened in 1985 as part of Cork 800 celebrations.
Irish Examiner
18-07-2025
- General
- Irish Examiner
Sidle up to Cork's Shakey Bridge at €1.45m Sunday's Well classic
Great shakes in Sunday's Well THERE must be an irony in the fact that a second-generation civil engineer ended up living beside a structure with a title almost guaranteed to rattle his professional nerves and instincts — the much-cherished Mount Vernon is a Sunday's Well home snuggling right up to Cork city's iconic 'Shakey Bridge.' Mount Vernon is a Sunday's Well classic The famed suspension pedestrian bridge over the River Lee's north channel is known properly as Daly's Bridge, but far more widely as the Shakey Bridge because of its wibbly wobbly wonder swaying nature: It links the salubrious Sunday's Well suburb to the Mardyke, next to Fitzgerald Park, a location dear to the hearts of Corkonians everywhere, as well as to visitors. Great shakes setting Leeside's Shakey Bridge is one of the most-photographed settings in and around the city, and featured affectionately as a location-marker in the 2016 film and subsequent TV series The Young Offenders: Brief exposure of Cork's Young Offenders It also means that this elegant home, Mount Vernon, has also been widely circulated at home and abroad as a backdrop. Dating to 1840, the detached riverside Mount Vernon is one of Sunday's Well's better-spotted river-fronting homes, not just because of its proximity to Daly's Bridge but also due to the attractive novelty of its architectural detailing, roof crenellation to the west, façade, with window bays to the city side to the east, and south- and river-facing at the front, and its highly distinctive mid-level window treatment with what's known as ogee-headed windows framed in red brick. Gee ogee The ogee shape, with both convex and concave 'S' curves, dates back almost 1,000 years to Islamic architecture, and enjoyed later Gothic and Victorian revivals in the 19th century, when Mount Vernon tested its builder's and glazier's skills, mixing many varied window shapes on its three levels, as well as to the side and rear. Interior grace And, gratifyingly, the array of windows — shaped from Gothic to round headed to ogee-arched and lattice style — are all still here today, in tremendous condition, testament to appreciation by a succession of mindful owners who curated this home that stands out from the crowd, as much for its authenticity as for its aspect. For much of the 20th century, and possibly before it, Mount Vernon (also officially No 68 Sunday's Well Road) was associated with the Guy family who had built up a noted business in Cork city in printing, lithography, photography, and other ink-related skills and services. The latest family owners were the Walsh family, engineer John and his wife Claire, with the Walsh family also having long roots in Sunday's Well (living at No 47 Sunday's Well Road) and who got the chance to buy here some 40 years ago after it had temporarily been split into three units, one lived in by an older generation of the Guys until the family-to-family handover. John Walsh's father, Henry (Harry) Walsh, had been professor of civil engineering in UCC from the early 1920s up until the 1950s, and also established an engineering practice with its offices initially in Sunday's Well: Venerable items of engineering curiosity, as well as a considerable library, still adorn the gentle, and much-buffed timepiece that is Mount Vernon. The family's appreciation of Mount Vernon spanned its aesthetic and architecture, as well as the very special setting right next door to the Shakey Bridge, say family members. The couple also clearly cherished the stepped garden, thoughtfully planted up and maintained, with as much attention back in the day to trees, flowers, and shrubs, as well as to vegetables and fruit: the late John Walsh was a keen strawberry grower, thereby either wittingly or unwittingly continuing a long local heritage and horticultural link as Sunday's Well was known back in the 18th century for its vast strawberry beds…. hence the name of nearby Strawberry Hill in Shanakiel. The berries Mount Vernon comes to the market this week as an executor sale with agents Johnny O'Flynn and Ann O'Mahony of Sherry FitzGerald, who launch it at €1.45m. At that, it's pitched into good company of €1m-plus sales in the wider Sunday's Well area and where, traditionally, those making the more significant sums are those with river frontage/direct access the Lee's north channel. Lovely Leeside Five of the six €1m-plus Sunday's Well sales visible on the Price Register are individual homes with that all-important river/garden: One, Woodlawn, made €2.195m back a decade ago, down from a Celtic Tiger times peak sale of €5m (close to an all-time Cork city house sale record) while Sherry FitzGerald also sold Verulam/No 58 Sunday's Well Road the following year, in 2017 for a recorded €1.4m. The strongest recent price was the €1.665m paid for Hazelhurst/No 46 in 2023, while a detached called Inglenook made €1.26m in 2022. Mount Vernon and Inglenook Curiously, Inglenook shares a lineage with Mount Vernon, as it was built by the Guy family in the 1920s to the side of No 68 Mount Vernon, noted in these pages in 2022 and also with an address as 68A Sunday's Well Road. New money as well as old money values these venerable old homes, and buyers typically span academia, medicine, and hospital-based consultants, as well as those who have made sums in tech and finance and want to put a share of it into bricks and mortar. The sale offer of a nearby classic, West View House, aka the Red House, graced these pages last month, offered in a fully restored and upgraded condition via Sherry FitzGerald's Johnny O'Flynn with a €1.825m AMV, for a 3,800sq ft five-to six-bed home with views to the Shakey Bridge on its city side, and to Wellington Bridge in the opposite direction. First viewings only start at the Red House this month once its mindful tenants move out, and there'll be a huge appeal to many as it's in walk-in condition for next occupants. Mr O'Flynn says he has very keen interest already lined up eager to view, despite its upper echelon price level as it is indeed a sort of local prize or trophy property. Mount Vernon is no less a prize, and Sherry FitzGerald expect many people — or at least those with €1.5m to €2m to spend on a home for life — who view one of the properties will also view the other. Those who do will compare the contemporary edge of the larger, West View/Red House with the utter period integrity of Mount Vernon. Both are BER-exempt and both have off-street parking in garages, a feature that gives them an extra lift in Sunday's Well where not every waterside home has a secure off-street place for a horseless carriage or a place to wire in an EV car charger. WestView/Red House also listed with Sherry FitzGerald Like many of its Sunday's Well neighbours, Mount Vernon more-or-less turns its back to the world and passers-by on its doorstep, with no more than a modest access doorway as well as a garage door just to the west of the access point (and steps) down along its high boundary wall the Shakey Bridge. That's in stark contrast to its familiar, ornamental render and window brick-framing façade facing the Lee's north channel opposite the Mardyke. While its building 'envelope' is one of two very different halves of faces, what's inside is all of a piece. Simply, it's a beauty, a well-polished period home gem, never significantly altered but clearly always minded and it's likely the most recent owners adopted the philosophy of 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it,' a bit like a vintage car that's always been serviced, kept garaged, and never needed a rebuild (in contrast, the Red House needed a significant rebuild, and got it). Once past the plain portal of the door onto the street, Mount Vernon is entered via a small glazed porch with encaustic-tiled floor, over a lower level rear service yard with old stores tucked into the hillside, very much a Sunday's Well riverside residence feature. This entry level has three principal rooms, two substantial ones with wide window bays, all have fireplaces, the third is a library/home office right now and there's a good-size bathroom here too. The stairs runs east/west to the back of the house (the floor plan dating to the 1840s is as relevant today for any home with views to the south) and the lower ground level has a plain kitchen, unfussed, with lots of wood panelling, a dining room, a bedroom overlooking the garden/terraces, and a utility room with side external access. There's also more immediate access to the south-facing terrace from the mid-set dining room, and the top floor holds three bedrooms (the centre one has three sash windows in a wide bay and patterned ceiling, plus a shower room with old tiled floor and William Morris-style wallpaper above wainscoting. Elsewhere, original and gleaming wood panelling is also a feature, as in the stairwell (where there's an ornate, tall arched coloured glass nine-paned window on a return), adding to the overall air of times moving at a slower pace than in the world outside its doors. That easy-going 'retreat from the world' feel is as readily appreciated in the mature gardens which drop down to bound the River Lee (salmon, anyone?) with wending paths and a lovely glasshouse for plant propagation and the growing of vines, tomatoes, and strawberries for new occupants' salad days ahead. VERDICT: Some great shakes, it's as exquisitely Cork as it gets....
Irish Examiner
14-07-2025
- Sport
- Irish Examiner
'Cork hurling is much more than just a game — it helped me bond with my dad'
Last summer, my father was diagnosed with motor neurone disease, a progressive neurological condition that damages the motor neurones in the brain and spinal cord, leading to muscle weakness, atrophy, and eventually paralysis. It is a rare and incurable disease, well-known here in Ireland as the cause of Charlie Bird's passing. The average survival rate is typically two to five years from the onset of symptoms. Although some people live longer, many go far more quickly. Dad drove us to last year's All-Ireland hurling final. When Cork play Tipperary this Sunday in a bid to end our 20-year famine, he won't be travelling. The round trip to Croke Park would be impossible for him. It will be the first time that my brother Jonathan and I go to an All-Ireland final without our father. We suggested that the three of us stay at home to watch the game together, but dad wouldn't have it — his voice might be fading, but he still calls the shots. 'Go and shout for three,' my mother instructed. However the match goes, it will be a hard day. The recent Munster final was very difficult. When Cork beat Limerick on penalties, it was the first thing we acknowledged, that it's just not the same without our dad. That's the thing about hurling — it's more than just sport, not just a game. Dad took me to my first All-Ireland final in 1999. Cork beat Kilkenny by a point, 0-13 to 0-12. I have no idea how he managed to turn up the tickets — two for the Hill — but he did (I still have the stubs). This was before the motorway, when the drive from Dublin to Cork took you through every town and village in between. We arrived in Rathcormac to bonfires on the road — literally on the road — as thousands of Corkonians took to the streets to celebrate and welcome home the travelling fans. James's father was able to attend last year's GAA hurling final between Clare and Cork. Picture: Piaras Ó Mídheach/Sportsfile Dad told me to get out the sunroof with my flag. I'm sure my memory has embellished the scene, but when I think back, I see thousands of people, the road to Cork city barely visible through all the red and smoke. I was sat atop the car, waving my flag while dad bate the horn. And for a few moments, I felt like some king of rebel king — the world was mine. That's what culture is — it's visceral, something felt in the gut. I never chose Cork hurling, it was passed down to me. That's what a father gives a son, a sense of something greater than themselves to which they can belong — culture, their culture. And that's why sport is more than just competition, it's a sophisticated framework for masculine intimacy and the delicate choreography of connection across generational divides. The relationship between my father and I followed a typical trajectory: first, childhood admiration, then, adolescent rejection, and eventually, adult reconciliation. I was a furious young man, full of fear and confusion. Nothing seemed bearable. One night, dad asked me to come for a walk with the dog. He told me it was okay to be angry. 'Everyone goes through what you're going through,' he said. 'What matters is who you are when you come out the other side.' I said something naïve about wanting a better world for myself and for others. 'Then go out and change it,' was his response. I think about that conversation a lot. James O'Sullivan: 'Hurling helped me to open up to my father. We had conversations during hurling that we wouldn't have had otherwise.' Do fathers remember all of the little things they tell their sons, the brief, offhand comments and remarks that take on permanence, becoming rules and values that shape lives? Education has been my life, not just as a profession, but as a principle — it's how I try to do some good in the world, if only just in our small corner of it. And that personal philosophy and political belief system all started with a short conversation with my father, while walking the dog. This was back before men were allowed to talk about mental health — I'm open enough to admit that, were it not for dad, I might not be here now. We'd not have been able to have those conversations were it not for hurling. It was the thing that bonded us because it was ours and ours alone — just him and me, and later, Jonathan. Just the lads, a father and his sons. The human need for belonging finds profound expression through sporting communities. The degree to which the GAA provides social capital is not unproblematic, and local clubs can be very cliquey, anachronistic spaces. But for many people, especially those who are lost, this shared belonging creates psychological scaffolding that supports identity development, social integration, and intergenerational continuity. Eimear Ryan writes about this in The Grass Ceiling, one of the most important books ever written on gender in the context of Irish sport. Eimear explains how hurling was the vehicle through which she learned who she was, who she wanted to be. I was probably the most useless — I was certainly the laziest — player to ever wear the royal blue of St Finbarr's, and like Eimear, I often felt like an outsider, feeling the need to hide parts of myself, like a burgeoning love of literature (Eimear on the other hand is a brilliant hurler who won an All-Ireland with Tipperary). But as useless as I might have been, I loved certain aspects of my playing days, if only just pucking balls with dad and Jonathan. The father teaching his son to strike a sliotar passes on muscle memory that connects to an older Ireland, to resistance and revival — it's sport functioning as a field of cultural production, where identity is actively constructed through embodied practice. Learning to hurl isn't just about the mechanics, it requires absorbing deeper lessons about competition, failure, resilience, and, perhaps most notably for men, emotional expression. In a changing, multicultural Ireland, hurling has the potential to be a shared tradition, a common language that can weave new identities into the fabric of local life. All of this is why hurling is so important. It's not always easy for fathers and sons to express their love for each other, so hurling can act as a substitute. In the pride in one's colours, fathers and sons find a vocabulary for love that transcends words, that transcends their relationship. The coming final won't be the same without my dad. I'll never forgive Conor Leen for pulling the back off of Robbie O'Flynn last year, when dad was well enough to travel. But I also remind myself that there is no point trying to restage the past, that the best moments between father and son can never be recreated. Even if dad had been with us for the Munster final, it wouldn't have been the same — it wasn't Thurles, Mark Landers wasn't the captain, and the game wasn't won by Joe Deane (who I chose that day as my all-time favourite) when he buried Seánie McGrath's endline flick beyond Davy Fitz. So when Cork and Tipperary meet in Croke Park, it will be hard, but it will still matter, because hurling is about being part of something that was here before us and will go on long after we're all gone. Because, fundamentally, that's what hurling is — it's the way we remind ourselves that we're never alone.
Irish Examiner
07-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Examiner
Keano's homecoming at Marquee met with thunderous applause
We are filing into our seats and the crowd is all chatter. 'He's punctual, he hates being late.' Another nods. 'It's starting bang on at eight, I'd be shocked if he was late!' This is no standard Marquee gig. It's Roy Keane's homecoming, and when Keano tells you to be in your seat by 8pm, you'd better be in your seat. Ticketholders, whether local Corkonians or sporting heroes such as Olympic gold medal boxer Kellie Harrington, are all seated by 8pm and Keano follows a fashionable 12 minutes later shoulder to shoulder with Roddy Doyle. Luckily, his hometown audience is well versed in the mercurial Mayfield man's ways so when he appears there is thunderous applause from an awaiting and appreciative Live at the Marquee audience that no doubt echoes across the river near his childhood home in Ballinderry Park. His chat with Dublin author Doyle touches upon all aspects of his life, from his Cork roots and Mayfield pride to his infamous Saipan clash with Mick McCarthy. It is a candid evening of conversation and Keane is not shy about his opinion, taking digs at players he doesn't rate, slagging off those he does like, and admitting a very rare thing for a Cork man: 'I can tolerate Dublin, I suppose…' Read More Roy Keane returns to Cork ahead of three nights of conversation at LATM
