Ciarán O'Brien: 'She was a GAA mother, and they are just a special breed. Thank God we had her'

There was no resistance. The tears rolled forth.

When the final whistle sounded at the end of October’s Cork hurling final, Darragh O’Brien set off in a hobbling hurry toward older brother Ciarán. A knee injury sustained on club duty the weekend prior took Darragh out of the Imokilly equation for the decider and severely reduced the speed at which he could reach his brother and now county-winning captain.

Darragh eventually arrived into Ciarán’s arms over on the North Stand side of Páirc Uí Chaoimh. The brothers squeezed each other tight. The tears spilled were for their missing person.

Five months earlier on May 29, Ciarán and Darragh’s mam, Caroline, passed away. She was 60 years of age. Cancer cut her time well short.

Caroline was your quintessential GAA mammy. A “massive” GAA woman. Had played camogie herself for Youghal. Life on the sideline supporting Micheál, Ciarán, and Darragh wasn’t done by half. If any of the lads went out the backdoor with a gearbag laden with nerves, then so did she. The load was shared between mother and sons. No member of the O’Brien house hurled in isolation.

It seems almost trivial to move the conversation inside the whitewash and talk hurling. But there’s a context. Ciarán, 29, was part of an Imokilly full-back line that hadn’t been airtight in the county semi-final win over Blackrock. The Imokilly full-back line was thus identified as a potential weakness in a team without weakness.

The Imokilly full-back line was superb on county final Sunday. Sars didn’t create a single clearcut goal chance. Two members of the Sars inside line finished the afternoon in the South Stand.

All week Ciarán had strained to keep focus solely on the fixture and individual assignments. The title of captain demanded it of him. But given the trying year that had been, trying to temporarily pack away grief and loss was a challenge way beyond any nippy corner-forward.

With the help of mam, he successfully reached Sunday evening and the steps up the South Stand. Minded and watched over right to the 65th minute.

“There were a couple of things that week because Darragh was injured as well. He came on in all the other games, but when you saw him with the knee brace on around the house, you were trying to be selfish and worry about yourself, but you also felt for him as he wouldn't get his chance on the pitch,” Ciarán begins.

“And then obviously it might pop into your head about my mother, how she'd be a nervous wreck around the house the morning of. When you'd be going away to matches, she wouldn't say much. But you'd know by the form of her that she was thinking about it just as much as us. That popped into my head once or twice.

“When the final whistle went, I felt that whatever bit of strength I had left me because she was looking after me. I was just totally emotional after the match.

“It was a thought in your head how happy she would be and the smile she would have on her face. Just bittersweet between those few things.” 

An elated East Cork division and a single family wearing a different colour of emotion.

“When the final whistle went, that is when the tears started, whereas during that day, you were trying to keep control of it as best you could. But when Darragh came over, it just came out,” Ciarán continued.

“Obviously, it was a great day to be involved in and there was plenty of enjoyment that night, but [her absence] did pop into your head every now and again. For my other brother Micheál and dad, you were able to put a smile on their face on that day.” 

Imokilly, such is their scattered make-up, do not boast a substantial support base. They have many admirers, but less invested followers. Páirc Uí Chaoimh quickly emptied at full-time. Remaining on were the families and close friends of the victorious Imokilly men.

Walking back over to the South Stand to collect their prize, the faces were easily picked out. Ciarán picked out his late mom's brothers and sisters.

Walking back across the field, he’d been trying, in his head, to do a quick rehearsal of his speech. Instead, the tears rolled again.

“Obviously my first thought when I saw them was my mother. They were very good to us, still are very good to us. They were so close, and they are always looking out for us. Again, it all came out.” 

In the long tunnel of Páirc Uí Chaoimh, Imokilly manager Denis Ring and half-forward Séamus Harnedy paid warm tribute to the O’Brien family. Séamus, a St Ita’s clubmate of Ciarán, spoke of the team’s hidden motivation. They were determined to give Caroline yet another reason to be proud of her boys.

“I know she would be,” said Harnedy after the 1-23 to 0-17 win.

Now was Ciarán’s time to pay tribute. He painted a picture of decency and devotion. He painted a picture familiar to GAA families the length and breadth of the country.

“We are probably like a lot of households in that we are very GAA orientated. She wouldn't say much but she'd be mad for us to do well. So when we get out onto the pitch, she'd nearly carry as much of the load as we do as players.

“She was at every match and if we did have a good win she'd be there to say well done to everyone, not just to the three of us but to as many people involved as she could.

“She was a GAA mother, and they are just a special breed. Thank God we had her.” 

When they no longer had her, they were never alone. The GAA communities of St Ita’s and Imokilly threw the arm around and kept it there. Teammates gave a subtle nod at training as if to say, how are you getting on.

Some days they got on better than others. The days where training was in the diary offered structure, purpose, and, most of all, an opportunity of a midweek evening to get out of one’s head and return home in better humour than you left it a few hours earlier.

During a time of upheaval and change, hurling was one rhythm of life that kept the same tune. Its constancy was a release rather than a distraction. Its constancy didn’t go unappreciated.

“Some days you weren’t in the form for it, but you knew you had to go and try put in a shift, and in the space of a few minutes you're not even thinking about it. You blink and the hour is over, it was a good hour, and you were able to get out of your head for that time.

“You were in a nice place down the field in that you weren't thinking about everything else. You were able to get out of yourself, move, and you were with the lads as well, be it driving on hurling-wise or there could just be great craic.” 

St Ita’s operate in the sixth tier of Cork hurling. The five tiers above them are organised as county championships from the very first throw-in of summer. The sixth tier begins in the respective divisions.

St Ita’s only get to contest for county junior championship honours if they successfully navigate the East Cork minefield. They've only done that once - 2021 - in their history.

What you had on October 20 was a junior club hurler from the sixth championship tier captaining his division to the highest honour in the county. Following in the footsteps of Harnedy’s 2017-19 three-in-a-row stewardship, O’Brien became the second junior hurler from this sixth tier club to captain a team to the highest honour in the county.

For any and all bitterness that exists towards Imokilly, therein lies the beauty of divisional involvement.

“It is hard to describe that it is you in that situation. Tough to put words to it,” the Games Development Coordinator reflects.

“You look at the people that came before you in that position, and that you are in the same bracket as them now is mad to think about. I wouldn’t have thought in my wildest dreams that I would have got that position. I don’t know when it will sink in.” 

When all comes to all though, 2024 will always be the year he lost his mother. What hurling did was make sure 2024 had other, happier chapters woven in.

“Hurling, on the whole, was very good to us as a family the last couple of months. The fact we were able to top it off the way we did was unreal. It might just be sport, but it can give you serious joy and can pull people together. That's what it did for us a small bit. We got joy out of that.”