A History of the GAA in 100 Objects

List of Objects

1. Wooden Mether (Medieval) 15

2. Hair Hurling Ball (Early 15th century) 16

3. Illustration of Handball Game (1785) 19

4. ‘Citie of the Tribes’ Banner (c.1800s) 20

5. Michael Cusack’s Blackthorn Stick (c.19th century) 23

6. Letter from Michael Cusack to Maurice Davin (1884) 24

7. Bray Emmets Banner (1887) 27

8. Davitt and Croke Commemorative Plate (c.1888) 28

9. GAA Rule Book (1888) 31

10. Handball signed by Fr Tom Jones (c.1890s) 32

11. Tubberdora Cap (c.1890s) 35

12. Aghabullogue Hurl (1890) 36

13. All-Ireland Football Challenge Cup (1896) 39

14. Archbishop Croke Stained-glass Window (early 1900s) 40

15. Illustration of Gaelic Footballer by George Fagan (c.1900s) 43

16. Map of Croke Park (1913) 44

17. Dublin County Board Minutes (1913) 47

18. Dick Fitzgerald’s Coaching Manual (1914) 48

19. Silver Mounted Camán (1914) 51

20. Letter from Bob O’Keeffe to John J. Higgins (1914) 52

21. GAA of USA Medal (1915) 55

22. Poster Banning GAA Events (1916) 56

23. Rounders Bat (c.1922) 59

24. Bootlace from Bloody Sunday (1920) 60

25. Sideline Flag from Ballykinlar Internment Camp (1921) 63

26. Haughney Memorial Cup (1922) 64

27. Sam Maguire’s Pocket Watch (1923) 67

28. Gold Medal from Tailteann Games (1924) 68

29. Diary of US Tour (1926) 71

30. Account Book from Gaelic Field, Dungarvan (c.1927) 72

31. The Tipperary Hurler by Seán Keating (1928) 75 John Joe Doyle’s Protective Goggles (1930s) 76 Henry Kenny’s Leather Boots (c.1930s) 79 Hurleymaker’s Spokeshave (c.1930s) 80 Fermanagh Exiles Team Sash (1930) 83 South Africa Flag from Tailteann Games (1932) 84 Gold Pin from Camogie Tournament (1933) 87 GAA Golden Jubilee Postage Stamp (1934) 88 Collectable Cigarette Card (c.1930s) 91 Mullingar Town Trophy (1934) 92 Waterford GAA Calendar Poster (1937) 95 Scissors used to open the Cusack Stand (1938) 96 ‘Thunder and Lightning’ Final Ticket (1939) 99 Football from All-Ireland Final (1943) 100 Unofficial Match Programme (1944) 103 Handball Medal found in South Africa (1946) 104 Napkin from Hotel Empire, New York (1947) 107 Player’s Please Figure (c.1940s) 108 Cap signed by Christy Ring (1952) 111 Gold Key from Opening of Casement Park (1953) 112

51. Miniature Sam Maguire Cup (1954) 115

52. Our Games Annual (1958) 116

53. Wembley Match Programme (1959) 119 Hurl from Turloughmore’s Six-in-a-row (c.1960s) 120

55. Co. Down Hand-knitted Cardigan (1960s) 123

56. Referee’s Whistle (c.1960s) 124

57. All-Star Jersey (1963) 127

58. Antrim Camogie Dress (c.1960s) 128

59. First GAA Helmet (1966) 131

60. Harty Cup Plaque (1967) 132

61. Chalice with Football Medals (1968) 135 62. Letter from Fr Tom Scully to Offaly Footballers (1969) 136 63. Handmade Model of GAA Pitch (c.1970s) 139 64. Scór Programme (1973) 140 65. Kilmacud Sevens Winners Plaque (1973) 143

66. Joe Kernan’s Runners-up Plaque (1977) 144

67. Dóirín Mhic Mhurchú’s Handmade Press Pass (1970s) 147

68. John Egan’s Glove (1978) 148

69. Poc Fada Marking Stone (c.1980s) 151

70. Prison Art from Long Kesh (1980s) 152

71. Up for the Final Concert Programme (1982) 155 72. Centenary Cairn (1984) 156

73. ‘Donegal Goes Home’ Centennial Poster (1984) 159

74. Sculpture Presented to Michael O’Hehir (1988) 160

75. Trevor Giles’s Sleeveless Jersey (1990s) 163

76. Donegal Champions Jigsaw (1993) 164

77. ‘Dancing at the Crossroads’ Cassette (1996) 167

78. Colie K’s Hole in the Ceiling (1998) 168 79. ‘John 3:7’ Sign (1999) 171

80. Shane Curran’s Kicking Tee (c.2000s) 172

81. Anthony Tohill’s Football Boots (2001) 175 Kit Manager’s Bag (2003) 176

83. Signed Armagh Ladies Football Jersey (2005) 179 Waterford Crystal Chandelier (2005) 180

85. Gaelic Games: Football PlayStation 2 Game (2005) 183 Tyrone ‘GAA 125’ Anniversary Jersey (2009) 184 Brian Cody’s Cap (c.2010s) 187 Flag Trolley (c.2010s) 188 GAA Congress Voting Card (2010) 191 Hawk-Eye Camera (2011) 192

91. Rubber Bas Hurl (2018) 195

92. Fundraising Wall (2019) 196

93. Artane Band Tunic (2019) 199

94. Five-in-a-row Manhole Cover (2019) 200

95. Transilience (2020) by David Sweeney 203

96. Cúl Camp Backpack (2021) 204

97. All-Ireland Final Yellow Sliotar (2020) 207

98. Gaeil Ruairí Óg Mural (2021) 208

99. Maggie Farrelly’s Referee Report Card (2021) 211

100. Sculpture of Richard ‘Droog’ Walsh by Seamus Connolly (2021) 212

Introduction

In July 1888, a hurling match took place in Con Kearney’s field in Carrahan, a townland twelve miles from Ennis, Co. Clare. The prize for the winners was a 5x4 foot banner of green tasselled silk, which is believed to be one of the earliest known GAA trophies. Tulla beat Feakle to win the banner and afterwards, as the Tulla Fife and Drum band led the victorious team through the village, the banner was carried home by the president and vice-president of the club. It remained in the parochial house in Tulla for many years, and today the banner is proudly displayed in Cnoc na Gaoithe, a convent building converted into a cultural and community space that promotes and preserves the traditions and cultures of east Clare. As I walked through the building, I was reminded to tread the floorboards quietly and to speak gently as children’s music lessons were taking place, underlining the multi-purpose and busy

nature of the building. The banner is kept in a large room that is filled with many historical objects of importance to the local area including trophies, musical instruments and agricultural equipment. As it hangs beside the window that looks out onto Tulla village, viewers’ eyes are drawn to the large oil painting in the centre of the banner depicting a hurler in characteristic dress of the time. There is detail on the back of the banner reading ‘Won at Carrahan 1888’ in large embroidered writing. But the back is not visible to those who walk into the room and see the banner as it is displayed now. To understand the wider historical context of the banner and to recognise its meaning and importance to the community of Tulla, we must look closer; we must read and we must listen to stories. Therein lies the purpose of this book – to gather objects of importance to people and communities across the GAA

and use them to get a deeper insight into the evolving meaning of the association.

I realise that the very title of this book – A History of the GAA in 100 Objects – is somewhat of a significant claim to make. However, the keyword is a. It is a history, not the history. It does not claim to be definitive. Any book which declares itself to be an official, definitive or authorised history is charged with bias and should be approached with a degree of caution. Furthermore, attempts to capture a definitive history of a given subject are invariably partial and incomplete. This book is no different.

While my aim in developing this book was to be as comprehensive as possible, some gaps remain simply because the objects no longer exist. The origin of the Dingle GAA jersey is an example of a wonderful story of chance and peculiarity, but one that no longer has the original object to give it added weight and power. Jimmy McKenna, a Dingle native and secretary of Dingle football club, was training to be a draper in a shop in Cork city in the 1930s. The Cork county board had ordered a set of red and white jerseys but were displeased with the price of the finished product and returned them to the shop where they were placed in storage. At the time, Dingle had no formal club colours, so Jimmy negotiated a deal with the shop and, by chance, those jerseys became the adopted colours of Dingle GAA club, as

they still are today. These were also Dingle’s first professionally made strip, as previous to this each player had their own jersey, usually hand-knitted by their mother. In 1938, Dingle won the county championship wearing those very jerseys, but the historical significance of the jerseys was enhanced the year after, when Kerry faced Meath in the All-Ireland football final. With both county colours being green and gold, Kerry were forced to change their strip. What did they wear instead as they captured the title? You guessed it – the red and white jerseys of Dingle that were rejected by Cork.

Those jerseys, simple in form, weave the threads of a fascinating story that were first sewn in that drapery, became unknotted by the Cork county board and are now forever entangled in the history of Dingle and Kerry GAA. It would have been a lovely addition to include one of those jerseys in this book but such an object is beyond my reach. As I sat in Dingle discussing this story with a politician, a GP and a publican (which I now realise sounds like the start of a bad joke), I was struck by the possibility of things being unintentionally disposed of without realising their historical potential. The original jerseys from 1938 don’t need to exist for the story to be legitimate, but it would be nice to have just one of them to compress that story into material form. In

many ways, the red and white that Dingle GAA club still wear is a perpetual reminder of that story. Who knows, maybe the Kerry crowd knew well and disposed of all traces that they were the recipients of Cork’s sloppy seconds. Despite those lost objects, the research has been met with a level of openness, warmth and enthusiasm that I could only have imagined. As I approached Lackagh Museum and Heritage Centre in Co. Galway on my first research visit in June 2021, I encountered a small group of people gathered at the entrance. I said to nobody in particular: ‘I see by the hurls in your hands that I’m in the right place anyway.’ The response, in a strong Galway accent, was, ‘No, we’re security!’ That light-hearted exchange gave me the reassurance I needed that my research would be welcomed with sincerity and fervour, which thankfully continued throughout all of my journeys around the country. The end result is a broad material representation of the major themes that have influenced the development of the association, as well as a glimpse into the technology that has developed rapidly in recent years. Not every significant development appears in this book, nor does every famous match, team or player. Nevertheless, my goal was to present a history of the GAA in an original way that I hope will be enjoyable for history and GAA enthusiasts, wherever they may live.

The GAA’s history has never been written through objects, nor have objects been used as the primary form of evidence in a single volume within the context of Irish sport. By examining the GAA in this way, this book is an invitation to view the GAA’s history through a new lens, but also to reflect on how much we may not know or how much we may have overlooked. There are a great deal of GAA stories still to be uncovered through objects and I hope there is abundant inspiration here for renewed effort in how we collect and consider our own memories through objects. When objects are considered as representations of the past rather than as evidence to be mined for information or items to be valued for auction, the range of possible objects and ways of viewing them expands considerably. Each object is shaped by a particular context, including matches, historical moments and personal memories. Kilmainham Gaol Museum has in their collection a set of handballs, which are hardly remarkable when described as simply that. But elaborate that the handballs were used by Éamon de Valera (1882–1975) when he was a prisoner in the gaol during the Civil War and those hand balls suddenly take on a different historical dimension. Describe how he was thought to have used these to play handball with William Corri, governor of Kilmainham Gaol, and we gain an insight into prison life, how handball

was used to break down power dynamics and the importance of sport for internees. The handballs were later thrown over the wall of the prison and collected by the Flewitt family, who lived outside the walls of Kilmainham; they were later donated to the museum. So these handballs, seemingly ordinary at first glance, reveal many layers and stories about different people. It is difficult to understand the history of the GAA and its rules, dynamics and epic encounters without embracing objects like these that help us to narrate the past. The focus of this book is to demonstrate how these objects can develop, represent, reinforce and alter our understanding of the GAA and its history.

A vital task in any new venture is to establish its validity and significance. This book emerged from my own background in history and museum studies, and my abiding interest in the GAA. It is also influenced by my time working in Croke Park as a tour guide, meeting colleagues and visitors to the stadium who dearly love the GAA and make it the successful organisation that it is. This in turn made me insist upon the need to engage with parts of the organisation that go beyond players and champions, on the grounds that only through this expansion would I be able to tell a truly inclusive history of the GAA. Many wonderful people make the GAA special – referees, vol unteers, commentators and supporters – and

I have included their stories in this book. Still, I know that many readers will think of objects in their own homes or communities that would merit inclusion as they comb the pages of this book. This is part of the book’s purpose – to allow people to think about objects and how we use them as storytelling devices. The evocative power of objects is magnified when people are able to identify a sense of familiarity, recollect their own experiences and see themselves in the stories of these objects. That familiarity may reveal itself by thinking ‘we have one of those at home’, ‘I remember that match’ or ‘I heard that before alright’. I hope that for many people, the objects’ stories bring about a warm sense of familiarity with each turn of the page.

I owe much to the GAA, which has led to many wonderful friendships, strengthened family relationships and built up a spirit of community that has served me well.

My first visit to the GAA Museum was in 1999, when our Bannow–Ballymitty camogie team went on a day trip to Dublin to bookend a successful season after winning the U-14 league and championship. While my teammates com peted against each other in the interactive area to determine who could jump the highest or hit the sliotar the fastest, I was in front of a screen with our trainer, Sadie Howlin (1937–2016), watching footage of past All-Ireland finals. Perhaps that sums up my relationship with the

GAA – that I was always much more content observing the game and learning about its past than I ever was playing. Despite this, the championship medal that I won that year is attached to my keys and has been for the last ten years. The front is faded but the engraving on the back is still legible: ‘B/B U-14 champions ’99’. So I suppose it could be said that I carry my very own GAA object with me every day.

I’m not the only one to have done so. While on a research visit to the Cardinal Tomás Ó Fiaich Library in Armagh in December 2021, I was captured by a particular object when it was placed on my reader’s table: an All-Ireland senior camogie medal won by Máire Ní Ghormáin with Antrim in 1945. A pin and clasp was added to the back of the medal with a short chain so that it could be worn as a brooch, which Máire wore every day until she died. I immediately thought of the medal on my keys and also Kathleen Mills’ (1923–1996) six All-Ireland camogie medals that she won with Dublin which are fashioned into a bracelet. There in the Ó Fiaich Library, I fortuitously formed an alliance with these women and joined an unspoken club of those of us who have transformed our camogie medals into something beyond GAA memorabilia: objects to wear and use every day. After transform ing the medals into keyrings, brooches and bracelets, I think the hope is that they remain

associated with us, the original owners, even when they are circulated amongst other people.

I would return to the GAA Museum many years later as an employee and, in hindsight, the seeds of this book were sown there as I spent many hours perusing the cabinets filled with objects and encountering the extraordinary mix of people who came through the doors. While working front of house in 2014, my colleague and proud Longford man Tommy Flynn was greeting visitors and checking them in for a stadium tour.

‘Where are you from?’ says Tommy.

‘We are from France,’ was the reply in bro ken English.

‘Ah right. I’m from Ballymahon meself.’

Cue two very puzzled faces from the French visitors and the rest of us within earshot resigned to knots of laughter at Tommy thinking that Ballymahon would have any resonance to a couple who had just landed in Ireland the day before.

For Tommy and many more, the GAA plays an important role in identity and place, with much to take pride in and celebrate. It contributes to the formation of place identity through diverse social interactions, practices and memories. However, there are many parts of the association that are deeply problematic and there are many injustices that exist within it that should not. I have not set out to expose these issues or to challenge thinking on them, but I do wish to underline that these problems exist, because any history depends on honesty and awareness of the problematic aspects of the past as well as its glories.

It is abundantly clear that the GAA has evolved considerably since its formal establishment in 1884, in ways that connect intimately with major historical developments in Ireland. Its role has been transformed in tandem with significant moments in modern Irish history, such as the War of Independence, mass emigra tion and the Troubles. Though these historical moments are by no means comprehensively analysed in this book, their inclusion does help in explaining patterns, issues and developments

that frame the evolution of the GAA. Not all of the objects stir joyous memories and many are painful reminders of loved ones who are no longer with us. These objects require sensitivity to their multiple meanings, and for the people who hold on to them and their reasons for doing so.

An object that stopped me in my tracks, when conducting research on the material culture of Bloody Sunday for the GAA’s centenary programme in 2020, was Annie Burke’s glasses, damaged but intact in their leather case. Annie, originally from Co. Sligo, attended the Dublin versus Tipperary challenge match on 21 November 1920, which took a dreadful turn as Crown forces entered Croke Park and opened fire on the thousands of spectators. Fourteen people lost their lives and the events of that day marked a turning point in the War of Independence. Annie herself left Croke Park unscathed, aside from a piece of glass which cut her face. The glasses she wore were damaged by a ricocheting piece of grit and she never wore them again. They were never repaired or cleaned and remained in their case in their disfigured condition. Damaged but not com pletely broken, the glasses act as a metaphor for all of those who suffered the consequences and traumatic memories of that day in the years that followed. For those of us seeing these glasses 100 years on from when they were last worn by

their owner, they act as an enduring material testimony of the despair of Bloody Sunday and one of the darkest days in the GAA’s history. The research involved in this book has brought me to a variety of locations across the country. It was important that, where possible, I viewed each object myself in person. This meant travelling thousands of miles around Ireland, heavily reliant upon GPS to guide me along many roads that I’ll probably never drive again. But each and every journey was worthwhile. In many cases, seeing the object uncovered new information, whether that was noticing marks not perceptible from photo

graphs or a sense of surprise that the objects were not the size I had imagined. It was also useful to get a sense of the environments in which the objects are kept. I absolutely maintain that it was essential that I spent several hours in the pubs where I sourced some of the objects – purely to familiarise myself with the settings of course. Speaking to the owners of the objects and museum staff who facilitated my research visits was also a useful part of the research process. The casual chats often brought about some interesting and worthwhile anec dotes. When sitting with Pat Donnellan in Bearna golf club (after arriving twenty minutes

late because I stopped off at a hurling match in Athleague, Co. Roscommon and got stuck in a tractor run outside Mountbellew), he spoke about how the standout memory from his many years playing football for Galway was the friendships that he forged with his teammates. Pat also reflected how wherever he was there was football. These reminiscences didn’t change how I wrote about Pat’s All-Star jersey, nor did it directly add any information to the history of the object itself. But it did make me realise that writing this book is not simply about gathering facts and presenting them; it’s about connecting with people and their stories, and using objects to mediate their past ideas, memories and experiences.

The GAA serves different functions and identities in different places, and significant if subtle differences are to be expected. Therefore, not every region could provide object stories for each code, as is desirable. I expanded the research beyond traditional GAA strongholds, with their long lists of achievements, to encom pass every county and its own GAA history. Although each county has different strengths and interests within the GAA context, there are shared patterns in collecting objects. If I had filled these pages with match programmes, medals, trophies and jerseys, the research would have been done in a fraction of the time and without me having to travel as far. But while

these objects are valuable in telling stories and are justifiably included in the book, moving beyond them to find a more varied selection was the real task.

One research visit brought me to the home of Paddy Flanagan (1930–2022) in Mullingar, who served in many roles within GAA circles as a player, county board secretary, public relations officer, Leinster Council delegate and president of Westmeath GAA. The meticulously gathered newspaper cuttings, team sheets, notes and scrapbooks in Paddy’s personal archive act as a handwritten love letter to Gaelic games. His method of collecting and record-keeping set in motion his initiative to improve the contents and quality of match programmes in Leinster and to transform them into a more meaningful match-day souvenir. There are many more collectors across the country who, like Paddy, have dedicated rooms full of trophies, documents and memorabilia. They form an important community of people who gather and safeguard information that is difficult to find elsewhere.

It has been difficult for me to write a his torical account of the GAA without viewing it through my own personal frame of reference. Before I started writing this book, or indeed any other history project I have embarked on to date, I have come to the subject with my own personal bias, sometimes consciously, but more often as a subconscious product of my

background. I was brought up in rural Wexford in a busy house where Sundays were technically a family day, but realistically they were dictated by the GAA and what match was on. And that routine still stands. If there’s a match in Wexford Park at 2 p.m., the Sunday roast is on the table at the earlier time of 12.30 p.m. No tay, no wash-up, straight out the door. Matches further afield require a more organised routine that involves sandwiches, sucky sweets, flags and headbands – because God forbid some stranger wouldn’t know that we were supporting Wexford.

I’m not sure at what age I was brought to my first GAA match, but the first one I remember was the Leinster hurling final between Wexford and Kilkenny in Croke Park in 1997. Billy Byrne came off the bench to score 1–2 that day and helped to secure victory over our biggest rivals, earning him the title of super sub in Wexford hurling folklore forevermore. But in all honesty, my only vivid memory of that day is watching our captain lift the Bob O’Keeffe Cup. I don’t know if we travelled by car or by train, I can’t recall the pre-match buzz on the walk to the stadium, I can’t even remember which Guiney twin was captain that day with out double-checking. This demonstrates the selectivity of memory – the memories that we forget and the memories that we hold onto – on the basis of our experience. My memory of that

day is absolutely clouded because Wexford won. I doubt that the trophy presentation would be etched in my memory all these years later had Kilkenny emerged victorious. Memory does not function in an organised, linear way. It transforms according to time and progressions. Perhaps I only attached meaning to that moment of victory because it took a while for Wexford to capture it again – six years, eleven months and twenty-one days. Not that I was counting.

By the time we won a Leinster hurling title again in 2004, I was in secondary school and, crucially, a school that lay on the Wexford–Kilkenny border. In many ways, attending a secondary school that comprised half Kilkenny and half Wexford students framed my relationship with the GAA, and hurling in particular. Those boundaries that go between counties allow us to display strong allegiances to GAA teams, provide a focus for intergenerational discussions about ‘golden eras’, and are a basis for the development of solidarity but also rivalry with others. This model is often intensified at club level; as the boundaries get tighter, the familiarity is deeper and thus more compelling. However, in the GAA context, your biggest rival may ultimately be your ally. A player you may mark or shout against at club level may be someone you play with or support at county level.

I abhor when Wexford lose to Kilkenny. That need to beat Kilkenny begins with hurling, but the competitiveness goes beyond it.

If Wexford lost a game of tiddlywinks to Kilkenny on the bridge in New Ross, I’d probably be annoyed for the evening. But truthfully, Kilkenny is home to some of the most pure and kind-hearted people that I know. I’m even fond of some of them I’ve never met. My grandfather John Lonergan (1899–1968) served in many roles within Kilkenny GAA circles: chairman of the South Kilkenny Board, trainer with Carrickshock, selector with the Kilkenny

minors and referee when needs must. He died in 1968 and I know little of him except for Mam’s recollections that are only shared when prompted. As far as I know, we have nothing of him. No material possession as a reminder of his presence. We often forget or throw out the things that we cannot bear. He left a young family of five behind and the closest any of his grandchildren have been to him is visiting the gravestone above his narrow bed of clay in the old cemetery in Hugginstown. Yet, without knowing him, I do feel a sense of the man he was through the GAA. The only reason

we even have photographs is because of those taken within the GAA context – usually him standing in a pre-match team photo. Scouring through archives, there are many references to him in the Kilkenny People and Munster Express newspapers. Chronologically in those archives, he is recorded as chairing meetings, then rising up the ranks of administration in Kilkenny GAA. Next is a notice that he is stepping down as chairman due to illness after fourteen years; the reference following this is a note from his widow and children thanking those who attended his funeral and sympathised with them during their bereavement. But his mentions in the local newspapers didn’t stop there. A year after his death, a shield was put up in his memory and was played for in the Kilkenny Southern junior championship. Who knows what became of the shield itself as an object. Maybe it is still proudly displayed on a dresser, maybe it is lying in an attic in a box of unwanted memories, maybe it is waiting to be bought at a car boot sale or maybe it is long gone and used as kindling. Sure those Kilkenny lads are always winning trophies anyway. My point is that not everything is kept and not everything needs to be kept. Objects come and go. Some are treasured, some are intentionally disposed of and some are genuinely lost to the passage of time. Some people leave only light footprints and some leave none at all in terms

of material possessions. That’s why the things that survive – those crumpled letters, that jersey that’s way too small now and the match programme creased from being in the back pocket on the journey home – are special.

This book is organised chronologically by decade, with a short essay contextualising each object by discussing its creation, provenance, purpose and custodian. The evolution in types of objects as the book advances reflects developments in design, technology, politics and society. The first objects presented here explore the GAA before its official establishment as a sporting organisation. Then a number of objects which have been utilised in explanation of the GAA’s origins are introduced. With these objects, readers can get a sense of the early years of the GAA. The survival of many of these objects is phenomenal and their historical significance is enormous.

Moving into the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the objects represent some of the ways in which the GAA first operated. One of the enduring challenges of this era is that the objects tend not to be as varied as with other decades. However, the stories that these objects tell are rich and varied. Many of them are paperbased documents, and the voices emerging from the scrawled words are overflowing with startling clarity and purpose. The objects from the 1910s and 1920s are inevitably wrapped

up in events of the revolutionary period in Ireland. This was a time of mass violence, death, internment, trauma and intense expressions of nationalism, and the objects reflect this. It also coincided with the GAA becoming more widespread and evolving into a more structured organisation. As for the objects from the 1930s and 1940s, the Irish diaspora has a much louder voice in this section of the book than any other. Many of these objects demonstrate the development of the GAA in different parts of the world. The objects that represent the 1950s until the present day are a broad mix of artworks, ephemera, equipment and memorabilia that reflect how the social and cultural role of the GAA has changed. This part of the book

also focuses on how the GAA has responded to its environment and the impact made by new technology.

Taken individually or as a whole, the 100 objects contained in this book provide a snapshot of the GAA’s history; but more than that, they illuminate how the things that we keep both drive and reflect the meanings that we attach to the past. That these objects are included in a book about the material culture of the GAA is very much a collective effort. I hope this book will be the starting point for a new interpretation of GAA history that builds upon the foundations that have been laid by those who have collected, cherished and shared these objects.

2. Hair Hurling Ball (Early 15th century)

© National Museum of Ireland

Hurling descended from ancient stick-and-ball games played in early medieval Ireland but traces of the game prior to the formal establishment of the GAA are limited. This rare example of an early hurling ball has been radiocarbon dated to the time interval between 1402 and 1435. It was found by Hugh Lyons in 1975 while hand-cutting turf in a bog in Lavally, Co. Sligo.

The ball is made from matted cow hair with a plaited horsehair covering, which was used for many folklife objects where durability was required. The cord was wound around the ball in an interlaced way, fully protecting the ball within. Hair hurling balls form part of a long-standing tradition associated with the festival of Bealtaine (1 May). It was the custom during Bealtaine for a newly married couple

to decorate a hurling ball with silver or gold lace and tassels. The ball was then hung on the community May bush or given as a gift to an unmarried man. Bealtaine also marked the start of summer hurling and in Kilkenny, women gifted men with new hurling balls on this day.

This hurling ball is one of fourteen in a collection at the National Museum of Ireland, some of which date back to the 12th century. The first one was discovered in Kerry in 1910, with the most recent find coming in Mayo in 2010. All of the balls were found in areas of cut blanket-bog, which ensured the preservation of this valuable evidence of hurling as an ancient phenomenon. These hurling balls are of enormous historical and archaeological significance and illustrate the patterns of evolution in the game of hurling and its equipment.

18. Dick Fitzgerald’s Coaching Manual (1914)

© National Museum of Ireland

Widely regarded as the first illustrated coaching manual, this book was written by Dick Fitzgerald (1886–1930), who was a holder of five All-Ireland medals with the Kerry footballers. Fitzgerald was well positioned to write this seminal manual, not only because of his exceptional skills as a footballer, but also because he served as an intercounty coach and referee in addition to various administrative roles on club and county committees. His football career was disrupted by his involvement in the Irish revolution, and in 1916 he was interned at Frongoch Camp.

How to Play Gaelic Football retailed at one shilling and was recognised at the time as the authority on Gaelic football instruction and training. The contents include an introductory chapter, sections on the duties of the various positions on the field, an outline of the role of the team captain and referee, as well as guide-

lines on applying football methods to hurling. Thomas Barker, photographer with The Cork Examiner and a friend of Fitzgerald, provided the illustrations, which include photographs of the footballer demonstrating various skills and fielding positions. Fitzgerald characterised a transformation in how the sport was understood by the Irish people and this book is a lasting vestige of his innovation both on and off the field.

The book was written while Fitzgerald was still playing as Kerry captain and remained the only published book on GAA coaching until 1958, when fellow Dr Crokes clubman Eamonn O’Sullivan published The Art and Science of Gaelic Football. Dick Fitzgerald’s legacy lives on in the rich traditions of Kerry football, with the county’s home venue in Killarney named Fitzgerald Stadium in his honour.

27. Sam Maguire’s Pocket Watch (1923)

GAA Museum, Croke Park

Sam Maguire (1877–1926) achieved posthumous fame when the All-Ireland senior football trophy was presented in his memory by his friends in 1928 after fundraising efforts. Before this, in 1923, his friends gave him another notable gift in the form of this gold pocket watch. At the time, a pocket watch like this with an elaborate design would have been considered a status symbol affordable only to the elite. Placed inside the pocket of a three-piece suit, it was a cultural marker and a means to perform punctuality. On the inside, this pocket watch is engraved: ‘Presented to Sam Maguire by his fellow Gaels in London on his return to Ireland Jan 1923’.

In 1907, Maguire was elected chairman of the London county board and later a trustee of Croke Park, where he played in three AllIreland football finals as captain of the London team. This pocket watch is a signifier of the esteem in which he was held by his peers in GAA circles in London.

A native of Dunmanway, Co. Cork, Maguire moved to London in the 1890s with his two brothers Dick and Jack, where they all immersed themselves in the London GAA scene. As well as this, Maguire was involved in the Gaelic League and the Irish Republican Brotherhood, which was a small, secret revolutionary body whose sole objective was to establish and maintain a free and independent republican government in Ireland. During the War of Independence, Maguire used his position working in the postal service in London to smuggle arms to Ireland and to intercept official state documents relevant to British military and political intentions at home.

32. John Joe Doyle’s Protective Goggles (1930s)

Clare Museum, Ennis John Joe ‘Goggles’ Doyle (1906–2000) was a Clare hurler from Newmarket-on-Fergus, who played at left corner-back for the Clare senior hurling team from 1926 to 1938. He wore glasses and in order to protect them while playing hurling, he made his own protective goggles.

Hurling almost lost John Joe entirely in his very early days, as he thought about quitting the game when he found he could not play unless he wore his glasses. With contact lenses not becoming widespread until after John Joe’s hurling career was over, his glasses lenses were broken on numerous occasions, causing cuts to his eyebrow necessitating stitches. John Joe wrote to England and the US to source a pair of suitable guards for his glasses, but found those worn by baseball players, motor cyclists and stone breakers would not suit his purposes on the hurling field. So he conceived the idea

of making his own protective covering for his glasses when he failed to procure anything from other avenues. He designed and made these using rust-proof bicycle spokes, medical bandages and elastic. John Joe’s homemade goggles apparently in no way affected his game and earned him the affectionate nickname by which he was known.

John Joe won six Clare senior hurling championship medals with his club, Newmarket-onFergus, winning his first in 1925. He captained Clare in the 1932 All-Ireland final versus Kilkenny, which they lost 2–3 to 3–3. This would be the county’s last appearance in the All-Ireland hurling final until 1995. When Clare beat Galway in the semi-final that year, John Joe celebrated in the dressing rooms with the players afterwards and promised to bring his famous goggles to the All-Ireland final once again.

49. Cap signed by Christy Ring (1952)

Cork Public Museum

This cap in the red and white of Cork was handmade by Bill O’Regan from Mayfield. He was one of the 64,332 supporters in attendance at the All-Ireland hurling final in 1952, when Cork defeated Dublin 2–14 to 0–7. Commentary from the match remarked on how bright sunshine shone on Croke Park that September day, so Bill’s cap was as practical as it was decorative.

Trains were an important service for travelling to matches when cars were scarce, and teams regularly took the train along with supporters, both often congregating in celebration. During the journey back to Cork after the team’s victory, Bill got the peak of his cap signed by Christy Ring (1920–1979), who had won his sixth All-Ireland medal that day when

he played at left half-forward. Ring dominated hurling in the 1950s and is widely regarded by players, commentators and supporters as one of the greatest hurlers in the history of the game. Ring’s marker that day was Des ‘Snitchy’ Ferguson, who ‘stayed with him like a shadow’. Ring’s signature on the cap, as with many autographed possessions, embodies the presence of an individual who is admired, and acts as a bridge of familiarity connecting player and supporter. His note reading ‘Up Cork, 1952’ evokes a shared sentiment of well-wishes for the county. The train journey that permitted their interaction contrasts with the protocols and barriers that are now often present between teams and supporters on All-Ireland final day.

75. Trevor Giles’s Sleeveless Jersey (1990s)

GAA Museum, Croke Park (on loan from Trevor Giles)

The summer of 1999 saw Meath’s Trevor Giles make a noticeable alteration to his jersey by cutting off most of the sleeves. The DIY aero-dynamic jersey alleviated heat for the centre-forward during a season in which Meath prevailed as All-Ireland senior football champions. This look may have been influenced by his time playing for Ireland in the International Rules series versus Australia. Australian players wear jerseys with cap sleeves – not only to reduce heat, but to stop their markers having something substantial to grab on to.

In order to meet the demands of an increasingly competitive sport, GAA jerseys have become more functional and have moved from heavy woollen pullovers to more breathable materials that can moderate a player’s body temperature, thus ensuring optimal performance. There are no rules against making adjustments

to jerseys, but there are strict guidelines around sponsors and the positioning of logos. In 2021, the GAA granted permission to allow sponsorship on the sleeves of player and replica jerseys, so it is likely that Giles’s adjustment would not stand up under current rules.

GAA jerseys symbolise membership of a group, while creating exclusion and otherness to people outside of that group. They also create team spirit, brand identity and enthusiasm among players and supporters. Given that GAA players are most often seen and not heard during their playing careers, clothing can be an important means of self-presentation during their time in the spotlight. In an environment where uniformity is expected and much emphasis is put on the pride of the jersey, Giles used his now iconic jersey as a tool for self-expression.

79. ‘John 3:7’ Sign (1999)

This sign will be familiar to many GAA fans as it has been present at many GAA matches and spotted by observant TV viewers. Its bearer, Frank Hogan (1938–2020), positioned himself behind the goal on Hill 16 and in various venues across the country. Originally from Borrisokane, Co. Tipperary, Frank made his home in Castletroy and followed Limerick for over three decades, carrying one of these signs with him to GAA matches of all codes. Here, Frank holds up his sign in the Gaelic Grounds in Limerick while watching the National Hurling League Division 1 semi-final between Kilkenny and Galway in 1999.

Frank’s inspiration for the sign came after he noticed one of similar design in the crowd as tennis player Pat Cash was presented with the trophy after winning the men’s singles tournament at Wimbledon in 1987. That sign was considerably smaller than Frank’s and read ‘John 3:16’ which refers to a verse from the Bible. Frank adopted this for some time, as

he hoped to spread a Christian message, but found that the verse was too long for him to recite when people inquired as to its meaning. He then reverted to ‘John 3:7’, which reads: ‘Do not marvel that I said to you, you must be born again’.

The sign, which is printed in black letters on a bright yellow background and with a wooden frame surrounding it, was understandably awkward for Frank to carry to and from matches, but he always persevered. In 2009, as Frank made his way home from attending a match in Croke Park, the sign was stolen on the train journey back to Limerick. It later mysteriously appeared at Kildare Garda Station a few days later and was front-page news when it was returned. Frank’s trips around the country with his iconic sign were not confined to GAA matches and also included visits to the Rose of Tralee festival, the Galway Races, fleadhanna and music concerts.

81. Anthony Tohill’s Football Boots (2001)

Derry City & Strabane District Council Museum & Heritage Service Collections

Most GAA players specialise in their sport of choice; some are dual players, but few transition to other sports at an elite level. Anthony Tohill is best known as a midfielder for Swatragh and Derry, but he also gained recognition in soccer, the Australian Football League (AFL) and International Rules. In August 2001, Tohill wore these football boots in the All-Ireland semi-final versus Galway at Croke Park. Two months later, he wore them in Melbourne as Ireland captain in the International Rules series against Australia.

In 1990, Tohill was recruited from the junior Gaelic football ranks in Derry and spent time in Melbourne playing for the Demons club in the AFL. A year later, he returned to Ireland and went straight into the senior team in Derry, a team he would win a coveted All-Ireland medal with in 1993. Tohill also spent some time playing soccer with Derry City and in 1995, he played with the Manchester United

reserves during a two-week trial with the club.

Tohill finished his soccer trial on a Wednesday night and by Sunday he was back on the Derry panel for a national league game versus Down. He had a long and successful period with the Ireland team in the International Rules series as a player, captain and manager.

These are Adidas Predator Precision boots, which launched in 2000 and were revolutionary in their technology. They feature Traxion studs, which allowed Tohill to adjust the boots to certain pitch conditions. The foldover tongue is embroidered with ‘Doire’, an identity marker and communication tool for Tohill to tell the world where he was from. The customisation, made in the penultimate year of his playing career, represents Tohill adding a layer of subtle difference that signified his rise through the ranks from substitute to captain of his county and country.