Treacys have the Angels on side
Killinan End
A famous old local song ‘The Road between Newport and Rae’ recalls people living on this stretch of some eight miles from the square in dear old Newport town to the village of Rearcross. Clearly written as an unbridled tribute to the area – no harm in that – it does contain little historical nuggets such as the mention of the ‘White Walls’, a well-recognised townsland locally but maybe not so obvious to those unfamiliar. It also references an “old copper mine” which surely fires historical curiosity. What was the nature of this? When was it there and how long did it last?
Weary travellers will lament the loss of the song’s tavern hosted by Mick Murphy which no doubt sustained many who made the trek up the mountain. They came the opposite way too. Ciarán MacMathúna, national treasure and legendary collector of Irish music who spent many youthful summers in Newport, recalled having his first drink in “Rae” on the way back from a Munster Final in Thurles. This same route was a hive of activity last weekend as Newport’s hurlers and supporters meandered through their own Lackamore and onto Tooreenbrien by which time they had crossed into territory hostile, on this weekend at least - old friends on other days.
This is the hinterland of Sean Treacy’s, representing the amalgamated areas of Rearcross, Kilcommon and Hollyford, all with their distinct characteristics. Hollyford is a place of “towering hills, verdant fields and well-kept homesteads of peace and plenty - the Lisdoonvarna of Tipperary”, or at least so it was described in 1931 by a Tipp Star reporter clearly taken with the area when he visited to report on Newport hurlers putting Emly to the sword in a County hurling quarter-final.
Yet, Hollyford was a little different in the context of the birth of Seán Treacy’s, a club formed in the early 1960s from a jigsaw of players from Kilcommon and Rearcross who had played in the North and Hollyford from the West. Newport, by contrast are North men to the core you would say, with a parish which nestles up to the far reaches of North Tipperary and the Limerick and Clare borders. Yet, strangely enough back in 1931, days when Newport’s hurlers gushed with talent, they participated in the West division’s inaugural senior hurling championship. Four decades later, their footballers did likewise.
Seán Treacy’s rural sprawl must create a split mindset to some extent. An extraordinary parish shares borders with Clonoulty, Annacarty, Cappawhite, Upperchurch, Templederry, Silvermines, Ballinahinch, and of course Newport. Across the county border it is adjacent to Cappamore and Doon, not forgetting Glengar the little piece of Tipperary in the parish of Doon. Hard to imagine another parish in the county with so much variety just across the ditch. Consequently, many in the parish will have different social reference points. Some lean towards Thurles or Cappamore, and many would be little distance from Nenagh or Templederry or Borrisoleigh. For many in Kilcommon and those in Rearcross, at the other end of the road fabled in song, Newport is where they went to school, where they socialised, where they danced and laughed and spent many formative days. For this cohort playing Newport is visceral and personal.
Maybe the Ragg was an odd venue to bring these old neighbours, but the replay of the Premier Intermediate relegation play-off was serious business indeed. The survival instinct concentrated the mind wonderfully with the trap-door yawning beneath. Treacy’s had regretted a slipped lead in the drawn game in Nenagh. That surely would not happen again? Lessons learned and all that. A healthy 1-13 to 0-7 lead at half-time, which probably reflected the play, looked solid and defendable. The problem with Newport of course is that character seeps from the very stones in that parish.
But this Newport team was not just built on fighting spirit. There were considerable flashes of hurling in there too. Conor Floyd’s point from under the stand – a low catch and a shot from the sideline over the bar would grace any venue, even those frequented by the great Conor O’Mahony, still quite the force though in his Masters’ years. Newport clawed it back to a couple of points as a nerve-shredding end unfolded. The decisive score came mid-way through the second-half when a flashing movement displayed all of Treacy’s attacking threat. Patrick Deegan, who had survived plenty of cage-rattling in the middle of the field, went on another surging run, a little one-two, a pop pass to Patrick Carey and the green flag soared. The bar had edged slightly upwards beyond the reach of even the mighty Newport onslaught developing.
An free from Carey right on the sideline gave Treacy’s further oxygen when the sun was shining purple and gold. Treacy’s had heroes all over the field, but their defence was especially defiant in second-half adversity. Seánie Ryan at centre-back got on the world of ball, while Seán Hickey at full-back gave a terrifically disciplined example of how to play the position with a cool head. Warriors emerged all over the pitch on the most binary of days with everything on the line between these proud neighbours. The old song reminds us that “the angels, they say, are seen sporting on the road between Newport and Rae.” On this day they must have been in their element.