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Howayiz, me name’s Jemmy O’Reilly and a few of the youngfella’s who write this asked me for a few memories of me days following the oul’ reds. Happy to oblige I was, ‘cause I was only sayin to the missus earlier how much I prefer cabbage to smoked cod, sure ‘Jemser’ says she to me ‘ you love smoked cod, you only said to me yesterday how you thought that smoked cod must’ve bein what they were eatin’ at the last supper’. She was right of course, but the oul’ smoked cod makes me think of Shels, don’t know why, mind you.
Anyway, we had a great crew of lads used to come to cheer on the reds. There was meself, of course, Tony ‘two flutes’ Taylor, Peter ‘the great’ Murphy and Spud Flanagan. There was war when we christened the Spud, because he rightly insisted that spud should be Murphy’s nickname. But such were the times, if a man was found to have two nicknames, Jem Larkin himself would come round to your gaff and give you a bollockin, as there was a strict one man, one nickname rule in them days. Two flutes was actually the first man in Ireland to undergo a sex change operation. We were banjaxed for what to call him now? Tony no flutes? Sure when we saw the result of the op, we decided to go with Tanya two tits instead. That was a fine pair of nicknames he had for himself altogether.
One day a rake of us went out to Irishtown to see the Reds, I’m not to sure who we were playin, sometimes me mind plays tricks on me, and I can see Bang Bang himself in goal for the Reds. It’s bleedin thick, everyone knows bang bang was an inside forward. We got the bus to Irishtown and went to the game. Sure there was murder, it was a Tuesday afternoon. Mickey ‘sheep’s head’ Smith got the dates mixed up. But, sure a few pint bottles of stout later and all was forgotten. Until the foreman from the docks found us and sacked us, leaving us broke. Ah, happy days.
The time the Virgin Mary appeared to me and the bollox Ahern was a day I’ll never forget. ‘Yiz are a pair of sound shams’, she said to us. ‘would you ever have the price of a baby power?’ well, jaysus, how can you refuse the mother of God, we thought, and gladly emptied our pockets. The wife claims it was an oul’ brasser dressed up as herself but I’m fairly sure it was the blessed virgin.
Another favourite memory of mine was when we all went to Cork on the train to play the Cork unnameables, jayney mack, that was a great trip. We found digs handy enough. We had no idea that Irelands first openly gay monastery took in guests, we thought it was a hostel. How in the name of Saint Matt Talbot they managed to keep silent with some of the goings on is beyond me. A nice bunch of fella’s though. The match itself is a bit of a blur, seein as we were twisted on the buckfast the monks made in the monastery. That we, eh, found. I seem to remember we won the match and got chased from the ground on the basis that we were from Dublin. Sure that was grand, gave us a chance to sweat some of the sauce out of us. When they heard we were stayin with the gay monks though, all was forgotten and we had a right hooley with them. One or two of the monks even got themselves a bit of strange. It was mad following the Reds in them days, but I wouldn’t change a bit of it. Maybe if I could remember some of it I would, but I can’t so I won’t. One thing that hasn’t changed, mind you is Shamrock Rovers. They were a shower of pricks then and they still are today. Some things never change.
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