JOE BROLLY: The wonder of the Bernie Flynn

I PLAYED on Derry teams against him for a decade, but the first time I met Bernie Flynn was at level six in Croke Park for RTÉ’s Saturday Game.

I can’t remember who was playing but it was Bernie’s TV debut and he was excited. (Note to reader: Bernie is always excited.) “You look terrific,” I said, since telling Bernie he looks terrific is the natural order of things. He is one of those people whose aura demands it.

“I don’t mind admitting it Joe,” he said, “I’m in great shape, I have a beautiful wife and children. I’m a lucky man.” Pleasantries concluded, I said to him, “let’s go down to level five for a pint.” “Are you sure?” he said. “Definitely. We have loads of time and it’ll loosen you up for the show.”

So, down we went and two pints were ordered. Bernie was storytelling (note to reader, Bernie is always storytelling) and I was laughing out loud. Two more pints followed in short order. Then two more. Five pints later, I got a call from the studio to say we were on in 15 minutes and up we went, giggling. After the show, the producer approached me as I was getting my make up off. “Joe, I need to ask you something.” “Go on,” I said. “Do you think Bernie was drunk?” “No,” I said, “he’s always like that.”

Since then, we have become close friends and I have come to appreciate this extraordinary man. He was a master of the skills, a dancer. Perfectly two footed, with great balance and terrific control, he vibrated with life in a team intent on taking life.

When I began coaching with St Brigid’s in Belfast, one of the first things I did was teach my u-10s the five primary dummies. These are of course the Colm McFadden, the half Mulligan, the full Mulligan, the Colm Cooper and the Bernie Flynn.

We started by walking through them, using slow exaggerated movements. Then putting a defender in front of the trainee dummier just to stand there and take the dummy. Then, at jogging speed. Finally, in our short-sided games.

By the time they were u-14, the dummies had been perfected, which gave me and my coaches great mirth on the sidelines. “Hello” the subs would shout when one of their team-mates scored a goal after a dummy.

Croke Park visit

Then, maybe around 2017, when the boys were u-16, I brought the entire squad on a group ticket to an All-Ireland semi-final. As we approached the stiles, I heard a big shout “Brolly” and there was Bernard, about to go in. “Boys,” I said, raising my hand for silence. “You will not believe it. This man is Bernie Flynn,” at which point they went absolutely wild, jumping around him and cheering.

When I was teaching them the Bernie Flynn, I had shown them the video clips of his two hilarious goals against Armagh in the 1994 National League final, one with the right foot, one with the left.

For the first, he had shown the ball to his left, then patiently watched as the goalie and defenders dived past him for the imaginary block, before stepping round them dainty as a dressage horse, and passing the ball to the empty net.

The second was a mirror image, showing the ball to his right before finishing with his left. It was one thing to see him on video. But now, here was the great man in the flesh, standing amongst them. As they cheered and raised their arms in the air, Bernie raised his too, and why wouldn’t he?

He may have been dainty as a dressage horse, but it would be a mistake to think he was dainty. When he had just come into that legendary Meath team, Sean Boylan picked two teams and placed him at full-forward against Mick Lyons.

Bernie takes up the story: “He was grunting behind me. After a minute he hit me a belt. Boylan was refereeing and ignored it. Then, he belted me again. I realised they were testing me. Is this boy a fancy dan or is he up to it. So, after the next ball was cleared, I struck him as hard as I could right in the middle of his face. The blood came pouring out of him and he went down on one knee for a second.

Bloody face

“Then he stood up, wiped the blood off his face, and looked straight at me. I genuinely thought he was going to kill me. He said, “You’ll do young Flynn. You’ll do.” After that, I was accepted into the group.”

After the Dubs beat Mayo in the epic 2016 final, Bernie and myself went out to Boston at the invitation of Boston GAA and on the first night we were there, we ended up in a bar with James McCarthy.

James had never met Bernie before and thanks be to the good God we did not have to go on live TV after this session. We had a table and as always, Bernie was flying. As the stories poured from him, a crowd gathered round us. James McCarthy laughed so much that he eventually asked Bernie to “Stop or I’m going to be sick.”

He was at our wedding and flung himself around the dance floor, shining with fun, revelling in life, his mysterious, infinite energy source allowing him to keep going until seven in the morning two days on the trot.

He would not be embarrassed if I talked about his good works, as it is impossible to embarrass him, but suffice to say he is an endless supply of goodness. Not just a great Gael, but a great human being.

Watch his Laochra Gael for a glimpse into this remarkable man. And if you are a coach, do them a favour and teach your kids the Bernie Flynn.