Blues gain a warrior

by PAUL DAFFEY

SETANTA O'hAilpin, the Irish hurling star who this week trained with Carlton with a view to being drafted onto the rookie list, raised a few laughs at his first session by asking Denis Pagan when the hitting would begin. But you can be sure that no one is laughing in Cork, his home county, where hurlers wear "the blood and the bandages" - as Cork's red and white strip is known - with a pride that can only be imagined in the AFL.

To a hurling fan in Cork, the notion of drafting a teenager from country Victoria and taking him to Fremantle, to use a topical example in the light of the recent draft, to start a sporting career is bizarre. In hurling, as in its brother sport of Gaelic football, you play for the club and the county in which you were born. The absence of money fuels the importance of place; hurlers and footballers who have moved to Dublin for work or study reasons return to their home club or county every week because to do otherwise would be unthinkable.

In O'hAilpin's case, however, he was unable to play for his place of birth. If he were doing so, he would be rolling over for his arm for Sydney's Bankstown, the cricket club that gave us Steve and Mark Waugh, or battering bodies for the Bulldogs in the National Rugby League.

O'hAilpin was born in Greenacre, next to Bankstown, but in a strange way this only increased the strength of his tie to Cork hurling. To trace the reason, you must go back to O'hAilpin's father Sean, who as a labourer on Sydney building sites in the 1970s and '80s felt a large gap in his sense of self.

On the building sites, O'hAilpin listened to the labourers of Italian origin speak Italian and the Greeks speak Greek; the Lebanese spoke in their own lingo as well. O'hAilpin was struck that, although he was proudly Irish, his childhood in a county suffused by English influence had left him unable to speak a word of his native tongue.

O'hAilpin and his Fijian wife Emeli duly had six children. In 1986, when the oldest was 11, the couple held to Sean's vow that their children would grow up in a place where all aspects of Irish culture, including language, were alive. That place would be Cork.

In coming years, the four O'hAilpin boys with the Polynesian features and fading Australian accents would be regularly seen on the streets of Cork City whacking a sliotar, as a hurling ball is known, against a wall. They were sent to North Monastery, a Christian Brothers school on Cork's gritty northside that is renowned for its strength in the national games.

The oldest, Sean Og (Og means junior), became a fixture in Cork hurling and football teams as a late teenager. In 1998, when he was a 21-year-old studying a finance degree entirely in Irish, I interviewed him in a pub off St Patrick Street, the curling main drag in Cork City, with a view to writing about the Australian beginnings of an Irish sports star.

By then, Sean Og (no one drops the Og) was speaking in the sing-song way of the locals, a manner of speaking that visitors from the rest of Ireland find difficult to understand. Sean Og barracked for Hawthorn in the AFL and the Bulldogs in rugby league. At an athletic 191cm, it was clear he would have been suited to either game, but it was also clear that the idea of playing such faraway sports occupied little of his mind. Wearing the blood and bandages of Cork, especially in hurling, was everything. He dreamt of nothing greater than defeating Tipperary or Kilkenny at the ancient game.

"Around here, playing hurling for Cork is like playing soccer for Brazil," he said.

After that interview, my colleagues at The Examiner in Cork were effusive in their praise of Sean Og before chuckling at the grandeur expected of his younger brother, Setanta. This name, it was explained, was the boyhood name of Cuchulainn, the great warrior of Irish mythology. Calling your son Setanta was imposing a mighty legacy on him.

Setanta has turned out to be most undaunted by his moniker. Last month, the 20-year-old with the 195cm frame was named the young hurler of the year after scoring Cork's only goal in September's All-Ireland final against Kilkenny, which Kilkenny won. The honour was heightened when he and Sean Og were both named in the All-Star team that equates to our All-Australian team. The media profiles of the two brothers, especially Setanta, reached heights unknown.

The subsequent loss of Setanta O'hAilpin to Australia has renewed a fierce debate in Irish sporting circles. The passion of this debate is exemplified by the punch-up that erupted in the pub of Tim Kennelly, Tadgh's father, on the night before Tadgh left County Kerry to join Sydney, where he would become a star in a foreign code.

Most Irish fans understand the decision to overlook amateur games in favour of a professional sporting career; Sean Og, significantly, was among those who strongly encouraged the move. But the history and passion surrounding Irish national games means there will always be those who are bitter at the departure of the brightest young talents.

While Irish eyes might not necessarily be smiling at Setanta O'hAilpin's departure to Australia, they will certainly be watching with interest.

This article first appeared in The Age on 6 December 2003.

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