THE EARLY YEARS : A Supporter’s Journey from Pearse House to Tolka Park | OneFootball

The Programme Invitation

Long before Shelbourne became the thread running through my life, there was Pearse House, Sunday football, and my father taking Brendan and me to see the Reds. Those early days shaped a lifelong attachment to the club, and when, at the start of the 2017 season, I was invited by the late Chris Sands, Shelbourne’s much-respected club historian, to write a piece for the Shelbourne programme, it felt like a chance to look back properly on where that journey had begun. Chris was also the author of Shels: A Grand Old Team to Know, and he and I shared a deep connection to both Pearse House and Shelbourne, having both originally come from Pearse House before moving out of the inner city after we got married. Along with former programme editor Paul Byrne, Chris was also one of the driving forces behind the commemorative plaque fixed to the wall outside Slattery’s pub, the birthplace of Shelbourne FC. His invitation gave me the opportunity to reflect not only on the club itself, but on Pearse House, childhood Sundays, family, friendship, and the memories that first drew me to the Reds.

Pearse House and the Start of a Lifetime’s Support

I was born and raised in Pearse House in Dublin’s south inner city, and from my earliest days all I ever wanted to do was play football. That was what we did in our area from morning until night. There was little else to distract us, and the place was football mad. Pearse House was also a stronghold of Shelbourne support. From around the age of six, my father began taking me and my younger brother, Brendan, to see Shels play. I cannot remember the first match exactly — where it was, who we played, or even the year, though it would have been sometime in the early 1950s — but I do remember being hooked at once. From then on, following the Reds became part of family life. Any time Shels played in Dublin, we wanted to be there. Brendan later played for Shelbourne minors and reserves, and he won the Leinster Junior Cup in the mid-sixties. Football was the sport of the working class when I was growing up, and despite all the changes in the modern game, its roots in working-class communities and traditions remain strong. Supporting Shels has brought plenty of highs and lows, but each one has deepened the connection. My father was born in Sandymount, close to Shelbourne Stadium, so in our family the link with Shelbourne stretched back to the club’s own beginnings.

Sunday Match Days in Dublin

That family connection soon became tied to the rhythm of Sunday afternoons. What I loved most back then was the whole match-day experience. All games were played on Sundays at the same time, and support for the League of Ireland was tremendous. Crowds were enormous, and most grounds felt packed to capacity. We walked to most Dublin matches, except those at Glenmalure Park in Milltown, then the home of Shamrock Rovers. For other games, long lines of Football Specials waited along College Green, Hawkins Street, or outside the Carlton Cinema, ready to carry supporters across the city. The buses were crammed with fans, everyone in great form, full of talk, banter, and expectation. When you reached the ground, another queue awaited at the turnstiles, but nobody minded. All of it was part of the ritual.

The Rhythm of the Football Day

Once the match began, the excitement simply changed shape. There was the roar of the crowd, the tension of every chance, and then, afterwards, the slow surge out of the ground as the post-match analysis began. Back home, our ears were glued to a crackling wireless, waiting for the results from around the grounds. Then came Tony Sheehan with the familiar words, “My game today was at Tolka Park,” or wherever he had been. Those details may seem small now, but they were part of what made football so special then. It was not just about the ninety minutes; it was the whole rhythm of the day, and the sense that the city itself was alive with football. It was not unusual to see Shelbourne players returning from matches with their boots wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper and tucked snugly under their arms.

Hawkers, Apples and Oranges

I also remember the hawkers lining the streets, with women selling apples and oranges from old baby prams. They would toss the fruit into the air as if juggling tennis balls, adding to the colour and noise of the day. The sounds of their calls still echo in my mind: “Get your apples and oranges!” and “Anybody for apples and oranges?” There were others too, calling out, “Get your Carbery’s chocolates!” or “Who’s for Carbery’s chocolates?” “Mister, do you want apples, oranges, or chocolates?” If you bought something from the hawkers, they would thank you warmly with a cheerful, “God bless you, luv,” followed by the familiar reminder, “Mind yourselves crossing the road.” A polite “Thanks, mister” in return completed an exchange that reflected the friendliness and sense of community of the times.

The Boy’s Gate

There was also the amusing sight of fully grown men trying to sneak into the ground at the cheaper boy’s gate, only to be met with a sharp rebuke from the stewards: “It’s a long time since you were a boy!” The exchange invariably drew laughter from those nearby and became part of the entertainment before the match had even begun. When we were very young, as hard as it is to imagine nowadays, my brother and I were simply lifted over the turnstiles by my father and his friends. Money was tight in those days, and every penny mattered.

A Golden Generation of Reds

Those early match days were made unforgettable not only by the crowds and the colour around the grounds, but by the players themselves. My fondest and most enduring memories of supporting the Reds are still from the 1950s and 1960s, even though the club enjoyed its greatest success much later, in the 1990s and 2000s. Shelbourne won the FAI Youth Cup in 1959, the FAI Cup in 1960 and 1963, and the league title in 1962 with a group of highly talented players who gave supporters so many unforgettable moments. Six players from that time went on to become full internationals: Christy Doyle, Tony Dunne, Tommy Carroll, Freddie Strahan, Jackie Hennessy, and Eric Barber, while others earned B international caps, including Christy Doyle, Brendan O’Brien, Jackie Hennessy, and Ollie Conroy.

Tommy Carroll, Freddie Strahan, Paddy Roberts, Jackie Kelly, Paddy Bonham, Joey Wilson, Ben Hannigan and Mick Conroy also played for the League of Ireland, Inter-League side. Goalkeeper, John Heavey was travelling reserve on the team to play an Italian X1 in Rimini. Finbarr Flood and Paddy Turner were transferred to Greenock Morton in November 1961. At the time Morton were ranked just below Celtic and Rangers and were pulling in large crowds of 12,000 for each of their games. Flood returned to Ireland, while Turner got adream move to Celtic in 1963, with whom he won two full international caps.

Freddie Strahan: My boyhood hero

When I am asked to name my favourite player from those years, the answer always comes quickly: Freddie Strahan. He was the greatest centre-half in the club’s history. A firefighter by profession with the Dublin Fire Brigade, he was left-footed, quick in the tackle, brilliant in the air, and gave more than twelve years of service to Shelbourne. Strahan had a tremendous leap; he seemed to hang in the air, with his head almost perched on an opponent’s shoulder. He captained the team in 1962 and 1963 in Theo Dunne’s absence due to illness. He won the league in 1962 and the FAI Cup in 1960 and 1963, and later moved to left full-back, where he was just as effective. He won five senior international caps for Ireland and scored Ireland’s only goal in a 3–1 defeat to England at Dalymount Park in 1964, in front of a crowd of 45,000. Many of the English players that day would go on to be part of the squad that won the World Cup in 1966. Freddie Strahan was my boyhood hero, and for me he represented Shelbourne at its best: quality, commitment, and character.

The 1962 League Play-off

The most memorable match I attended in that era was the 1–0 win over Cork Celtic in the 1962 play-off to decide the league title. Both teams had finished level on thirty-five points, and, in those days, there was no settling it on goal difference or goal average, so a play-off was needed. Ben Hannigan scored the only goal, stretching out a long leg to force the ball over the line, and that was enough to bring the title to Tolka Park. The victory mattered all the more because it came only days after we had lost 4–1 to Shamrock Rovers in the Cup Final before a crowd of 35,000. It is hard to believe now that this was the last meeting of the Ringsend rivals in an FAI Cup Final. We had been favourites that day and even took the lead through Eric Barber, but in the end, we were well beaten. Shelbourne might well have won a historic first double in 1962 were it not for the smallpox vaccinations given to three of our players in the week leading up to the Cup Final. Some of the players felt the adverse effects of the vaccines, with Freddie Strahan confined to bed in the week leading up to the final. Losing the 1962 Cup Final to our fiercest rivals hurt deeply, and that hurt has never left me. The league play-off win helped ease the pain, and it remains one of the sweetest victories I ever saw. Looking back, I never imagined that, after 1962 and 1963, it would take another thirty years before Shelbourne would again win the league title and the FAI Cup. That is the thing about football: it tests your patience and makes the victories all the sweeter when they finally come.

Four goals, five-star performance

Doyle’s Ducklings

The 1960 F.A.I. Cup semi-final against Dundalk remains the most memorable match of my early years following Shelbourne. Everything appeared stacked in Dundalk’s favour. Dalymount Park hosted an international match on the Wednesday and, after days of incessant rain, the pitch was a quagmire by the time of the Saturday time kick-off.

Yet Gerry Doyle’s youthful side rose magnificently to the challenge, outplaying their more experienced opponents with football of such skill and fluency that it was like watching ballet in the mud. Eric Barber and Jackie Hennessy gave the Reds a 2-1 half-time lead before Ollie Conroy and Joey Wilson completed a stunning 4-1 victory.

One unforgettable moment saw Christy Doyle unleash a thunderous shot that crashed off the underside of the crossbar and dropped on the Dundalk goal line, where it stuck fast in the mud. Ollie Conroy reacted first to prod home. By the final whistle, Doyle’s Ducklings had swept aside a fancied Dundalk side and marched into the Cup Final.

I nearly missed the semi-final. My parents had decided that my brother and me could not go because my father was working that Saturday. Looking back, their decision was understandable. I was only just thirteen and Brendan was eighteen months younger.

On the morning of the match, an older lad from the flats named Tim heard our story and offered to take us and look after us. A quick phone call from the telephone box on Pearse Street to my father’s workplace secured permission, and suddenly we were on our way.

As I remember it, Tim led a group of us on the walk to Dalymount Park. When the final whistle blew, we were carried home on a wave of excitement and emotion. It was the first time we could remember seeing Shelbourne reach an FAI Cup Final, and the whole community seemed to share our joy.

Attendances

1962 FAI Cup Final (Shelborne vs. Shamrock Rovers)

The official attendance was recorded at 32,000; historians and contemporary match goers universally agree the physical crowd inside Phibsboro that day was far greater. Shamrock Rovers defeated Shelbourne 4-1 on April 28,1962. Because it was a massive Ringsend rivalry between the two top clubs of the era, the demand completely overwhelmed the ground’s official monitoring. Cash at the turnstiles was a deeply flawed, inaccurate method for calculating the true attendance at a major football match. A turnstile operator dealing with an endless stream of coins, dropping change, and managing an impatient crowd simply could not maintain a flawless count. Furthermore, it was common practice for turnstile operators to let children slip under or over the barrier for free, especially for domestic cup finals.

Ireland vs. England 19 May 1964

English papers reported generally settled on a flat 40,000, whereas Dublin newspapers tracking the chaotic gate receipts noted the crowd swelled towards 45,000 by kick off.

Seventy Years On

For all the memories and moments of joy, seventy years of attending matches have also shown me how much still needs to change. The same frustrations remain: poor organisation, poor facilities, poor crowd control, and overcrowding at matches. At times, it feels like a miracle that football in this country has avoided a major disaster. There has also been a lack of investment in the game, along with a perceived bias towards the GAA, even though football remains the biggest participation sport in the country. It has been a litany of broken promises and failures to deliver by administrators and politicians alike. The romance and history of the game have kept supporters coming back year after year, but the match-day experience has too often failed to improve in the ways it should have.

Europe

In the 1960s, European nights at Dalymount Park were pure magic. The buzz under the floodlights was unbelievable. Massive foreign clubs like Sporting Club Lisbon, Barcelona, Belenenses and Atletico Madrid- sides you were only ever read about or saw on a snowy TV arrived in Dublin, bringing slick passing and unfamiliar tactics. It was just spellbinding to be there. Packed onto the terraces, the atmosphere was electric. Those iconic days in the sixties were pure adventure, creating memories that last a lifetime. The way European competitions are currently structured, we are unlikely to see their likes again. I was privileged to be at all five home matches.

Comparing Generations: A Matter of Opinion

The game has changed, but has it improved?

Football has changed dramatically since my early days following Shelbourne. The modern game is more professional, more scientific, and played at a faster pace than ever before. Yet I often find myself wondering whether something important has been lost along the way.

Comparing today’s game with that of another generation is often a pointless exercise. Modern players are undoubtedly faster, fitter, and far more tactically aware than those in the past. However, I remain unconvinced that they are necessarily better footballers. Too many seem to lack some of the basic skills that were once taken for granted: first touch, close ball control, accurate passing, crossing and even the simple ability to strike the ball properly. These skills were honed through countless hours of street football, where young players learned naturally through repetition and competition. While the game has evolved in many ways, the value of those fundamental skills should never be forgotten.

Loyalty

Yet, despite all the disappointments, uncertainty, and long waits between successes, the loyalty of Shelbourne supporters has never wavered. Generation after generation has stood by the club through good days and bad, carrying the memories, songs, colours, and pride that make Shels far more than just a football team. Grounds may change, players may come and go, and fortunes may rise and fall, but the bond between Shelbourne and its supporters endures. For me, Shelbourne has never simply been a club I followed; it has been part of who I am.