Fearless Frankie

When asked if there is one principle or philosophy by which he lives his life Frankie Byrne doesn't take long to answer.

It's a personal philosophy he has evolved from something his father said on his deathbed.

Frankie - who was then living in Dublin and working as a primary school teacher - received a call to return to Navan; his father Thomas was gravely ill.
“As a youngster I always dreaded the thought of losing my mother or my father and he died when he was 73.

“I retired from football at 30 and one of the reasons was because of my father. He would go to games but he didn't shout but he would change colour and I was afraid he would drop dead with all the excitement, it would have been better for him if he let his feelings out.”

Frankie, 93 last April, is sitting in his house on a pleasant tree-lined residential street in Clontarf, where he and his wife Rita have lived for 58 years. It's also where they brought up their family of five, three boys, two girls; they had six children but the first was stillborn.

It's one of the hottest days of the year and, like the rest of us, Frankie is happy to be inside, in the relative cool. He talks of momentous moments in his life and career - and one of the most momentous was that night back in the 1960s.

“At half-one in the morning I had received a phone call: 'Daddy is dying, you better get home.' By half-two I was in Navan.

“He half sat up in bed, then he lay down. Because I was last in my mother was there with the rest of us, I'm one of eight. One of the very last things I heard my father say was (Frankie pauses and his voice falls to a low whisper) 'I did my best.' That became my mantra for the rest of my life.”

Frankie's 'best' proved to be more than enough. More than enough to win a scholarship and carve out a career as a teacher; more than enough to help him become one of the most prominent footballers in the country; a member of the famed '49s, the first team from Meath to win the Sam Maguire.

Meath defeated Cavan, 1-10 to 1-6, in the '49 showdown before an attendance of 79,460 but it might never have happened except for the intervention of Rita Byrne, a qualified pharmacist.

Frankie, the last surviving member of the '49 team, sits back and lights a cigar. He never drank much but he still enjoys a smoke after Mass - which he attends every day. His faith is as strong as an oak tree and his memory is razor-sharp.

He recalls events from 70, 60, 50 years ago with detailed, in-depth clarity. He has a keen wit as well. One of the smallest players on the Meath team he talks of one game early in his inter-county career when he was selected at midfield along with Bill Halpenny. Their two opponents were six-foot something giants.

“Since I didn't grow much at half-time they switched me to half-forward and that's where I stayed,” he adds with a smile.
As he draws the smoke inwards and exhales with satisfaction he takes a glance out the window to the searing heat and recalls events from 1949 and the lead up to the All-Ireland final; and how his wife, a Carlow woman may have saved the Royals.

As part of their preparations the Meath players stayed in Gibbstown for a week or so of collective training. It was what teams did back then in the lead up to big games.

A few days before the All-Ireland showdown a package was left for the Meath men from some 'thoughtful' strangers. “A group of fellows arrived in a car and they left us a present. We thought they were Cavan supporters and they gave us a box, it was chewing gum.

“We were suspicious, why wouldn't we be if some strangers just arrived to give us a present? I brought the gum to Rita and she looked at what they were made of. They were laxatives.

“It was a certain type of chewing gum one that helps you go to the toilet, they thought we would have the runs two days before the match. Big bets would have been placed on Cavan winning.”

The day of the All-Ireland was, Frankie remembers, also hot and muggy; the trying conditions didn't stop Meath becoming the Kings of September for the first time. It should have been a day when Frankie could bask in the glory of it all.

Instead the day was filled with pain. About 20 minutes into the match he became involved in a tangle with a Cavan player as they sought to gain possession of the ball. The Cavanman fell heavily on Frankie, who damaged vertebrae in his back. Frankie, who played for Navan O'Mahonys and later Clann na nGael in Dublin, had pace to burn but it was curtailed that day.

“I knew I was in trouble because five minutes later I got caught in a sandwich and that would never would have previously happened, I was mashed between two Cavan men. I was in a lot of pain but I played on until 10 minutes from the end. If we won I was going to kiss the ground but I never even got to hear captain Brian Smyth talk in the stand afterwards.” Instead Frankie was in the dressing room and every cheer he heard he felt heralded a Cavan comeback and victory but it wasn't to be. Meath held firm.

In 1951 Meath earned a trip to New York as league winners (they lost All-Ireland final to Mayo). The Big Apple was a real culture shock; the buildings, the lifestyle. Frankie recalls seeing men walking around holding hands. That was certainly something never seen in 1950s Ireland. Then there was the football. They played New York in the Polo Grounds. “The ground was rock hard, it was too small, too tight, it was very physical,” he recalls.

Frankie was to earn a second All-Ireland medal in 1954 but this time as a substitute. He also won a Railway Cup with Leinster when the competition attracted full houses to Croker. One man he always greatly admired was Paddy 'Hands' O'Brien. “He was a gentleman and a great player,” recalls Frankie.

Later Frankie coached the Meath minors to a first All-Ireland in '57. He also went on to play with the Jimmy Magee All-Stars in charity games. He started playing with them at 43; the last time he togged out for the All-Stars was in Las Vegas when he was 73.

Until recently Frankie loved a round of golf but two bouts of serious illness in the last year or so has put an end to that. Neither can he drive. His days are taken up instead helping to look after Rita who has dementia for 11 years now. Frankie gets real discomfort these days from the knee and angle of his right leg; the leg he used for free-taking.

When reflecting on his life Frankie refers to Shakespeare, and a line in Hamlet : “To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night follows day, thou canst not then be false to any man,” he says like a true orator and teacher. Frankie Byrne sought to be true to himself. Still does.