He might have been the youngest Tipperary man to captain the county to an All-Ireland senior hurling title, but that wasn’t an accident. Just early recognition of his quality.
For a decade, Jimmy Finn’s stylish hurling was a blue and gold cornerstone. The Borris-Ileigh clubman was duly named on the GAA’s Hurling Team of the Century in the centenary year of 1984, but his class was acknowledged a lot earlier than that.
“I’d finished playing and was at a show in Thurles — horses and cattle, the usual,” says Finn now. “The show yard was over by the stadium, the greyhound track — people who go to the games in Semple Stadium will know it well.
“I was there and looked over towards the entrance, and Ring arrived in. Big shake hands, ‘how are you getting on’, he was in great form. His first question to me was whether I had a hurley with me.”
Ring knew his audience: Finn usually kept a stick or two in the car boot out of habit.
“You can imagine what he said next. ‘Come on away over to the Sportsfield for a puck-around’.”
The sports field in question was Semple Stadium, of course. Was there a problem in Christy Ring and Jimmy Finn gaining access to Tipperary’s premier stadium without making the necessary prior arrangements? What do you think?
“Ah, the security wasn’t too tight that time. And I knew the fella who was minding it, anyway. I suppose we pucked around inside there for three quarters of an hour, anyway, back and forth. Then back to the show and we spent the day together, more or less, drinking tea.
“I remember him saying at one point that a forward couldn’t do enough practice, particularly when it came to scoring."
Finn and Ring’s friendship was forged more at the Railway Cup than the Munster championship itself.
The provincial competition was well-attended and keenly contested, but the raw edge of intercounty rivalries was dulled slightly when a common jersey was being worn, and players got to know each other that bit better. Ring always appreciated Finn’s presence in the Munster rearguard, however late he arrived.
“In 1956 Munster were up against Leinster in the Railway Cup, but we had a bereavement,” says Finn. “A grand-aunt of mine passed away and I had the funeral the morning of the game: Patrick’s Day.
“In fairness, a friend of mine drove me up to Dublin afterwards, but time was getting tight. I remember running down the side of the Cusack Stand and knocking on the door to get in.
“Ring opened the door: ‘Oh, it’s yourself — we thought you weren’t coming at all, come away in.’ I was supposed to be marking Tim Flood, but it all worked out for the best anyway.
“As a person you couldn’t meet nicer.
Ring was the nicest chap you could meet — unless it was out on the field.
"Then there was a complete change in him. It was win at all costs then. But afterwards — all grand again. Chat away and great friends.”
Finn was one of the key personalities in the magnificent seven Munster final clashes between Cork and Tipperary from 1949 to 1954 (one game went to a replay).
He was also a key part of Borris-Ileigh’s dominance of the Premier hurling scene in the late forties: there had been two separate clubs in the parish competing in the Mid and North divisions earlier that decade, but a new priest called a meeting from the pulpit and eventually an amalgamation was hammered out (“It took three meetings,” says Finn, “But eventually he got it done.”).
In 1949 Borris-Ileigh beat Holycross and Boherlahan to win the Tipperary county title, and the following year they repeated the dose by beating Carrick-on-Suir. It meant Borris’ would supply the Tipp captain for the 1951 intercounty season, and Finn got the nod, collecting Liam MacCarthy that September.
In those six years Cork and Tipperary each won three Munster titles — and the All-Ireland each year, to boot. The games were so finely balanced that small decisions and instinctive reactions had far-reaching consequences.
Finn has a perfect example. “In 1952 I was full-back on Willie John Daly and it was getting late in the game. We were a couple of points down and at one stage I was about 35 yards out from our own goal.
“A ball broke ahead of me and I saw Ring go for it. I thought ‘will I go?’ — I thought I had a chance of making it —but I was conscious of Willie John behind me, and the risk of leaving him unmarked if I did. Then I saw (Pat) Stakelum and (John) Doyle coming across to take Christy.”
Finn played the percentages and held his ground. The two Tipp defenders collided with the Corkman.
“I don’t know how he managed it, but Ring got up first, and hit the ball back in over his head: it hopped off (Tony) Reddin’s chest, and Paddy Barry tapped it into the net. A crucial goal. The game was over and Cork won. I often talk about it, whether I should have taken a chance and gone for the ball. I might have been able to meet him when he got up at least. And of course he had a good laugh afterwards when we talked about it.”
Finn was out of position at full-back, incidentally: his preferred posting was at wing-back (“more freedom”), where he was picked on the Team of the Century.
Ring was unbelievable. Tremendous arms, and a great hurling brain. He could pick a ball going at full speed — one touch and it was in his hand and then over the bar.
“We didn’t come up with special plans to hold him or anything like that. It was a man’s job to hold his opponent, and in fairness to Tommy Doyle, he held Ring scoreless in 1949 — two and a half hours, matches and extra time included. Tommy worked in the (sugar) factory in Thurles, and they’d all meet up together at Molloy’s corner in the town in the evening for a chat.
"Tommy was getting letters from people over holding Ring scoreless and one evening he said, ‘It’s amazing all the letters I’m getting for holding Ring for two and a half hours, I’m holding Nancy (his wife) for 20 years and I never got a letter for that’.”
One last question, though. How was it such an inexperienced player became Tipperary captain in 1951?
“Seán Kenny got a bad knee,” says Finn. “It transpired he couldn’t play, so there was only Ned Ryan and myself left on the Tipperary team. Neither of us was that keen on the captaincy — Ned was shy, and I was only 19 years old — so the only way to decide was to toss a coin.
“I won and became captain. So I was lucky.”
Lucky? Maybe. But Jimmy Finn always had the class to go with it.
- The Irish Examiner will publish a special 20-page bonus section with the newspaper this Friday to celebrate the centenary of the birth of Cork hurling icon Christy Ring