Isn’t amazing sometimes how writers, poets and novelists flash into prominence for a time and then, years later, are almost totally forgotten about, asks An Fear Rua ...

Take, for example, the English born journalist, novelist and poet, William Arthur Dunkerley who died in 1941. ‘William who?’, you might well ask. ‘Never heard of him! Not even at school’. Just proves my point, in a way. He now languishes in deep literary obscurity.

Anyway, Dunkerley was born in Manchester and later moved to Worthing, in Sussex, where he was elected Mayor of the town. For most of the early part of the last century William was a veritable one person publishing industry. Entire forests in Finland and Canada were felled just to produce the paper needed to keep up with his output of bestsellers. He sometimes wrote under his own name. Then, as a journalist, he used the name ‘Julian Ross’. For poetry, writing hymns and novels he used the name ‘John Oxenham’. Not content with producing a prolific output of his own, he had a son and two daughters who also became busy writers, in their own right.

Now you might well ask how William Arthur Dunkerley managed to sidle into a programme note for the quarter finals of the All Ireland senior football championship. Like, wouldn’t it be great if it turned out that – in between churning out all those magazine articles, books, poems and hymns – he had togged out for the Warwickshire Gaelic football team or had trained the famous Father Murphy’s club during a sojourn in London?

Unfortunately, despite diligent archival research, we have not yet been able to establish such a connection. But we did come across a poem by Dunkerley which we felt had some resonance with the mysteries of Gaelic football. It was where he wrote: ‘To every man there opens a way, and ways, and a way. And the high soul climbs the high way, and the low soul gropes the low, and in between on the misty flats the rest drift to and fro.’

Today, as we eagerly await contests by senior inter-county Gaelic footballers whose sparkling feet are firmly set on ‘the high way’ of the game, let us not overlook the merits of the rest of us who, from time to time, ‘on the misty flats drift to and fro’. As in, togging out for the Junior D footballers of our local club. Like some of these familiar characters ….

Goalie - Must have 'great goalmouth presence'. This is code for being fat enough to have his own gravitational pull. Always in the 40-50 age bracket, this gent will almost convince you that he played minor for the county in goal, even though the last time he got his knees dirty in a dive was when he fell over during a céilí in the old parish hall in 1965.

Right corner back - The quiet man of the line-up. He escapes the dressing room banter because no-one has ever seen him angry and they fear hidden depths.

Full back - He first started playing football some time in the Bronze Age. He will get a nose-bleed if he passes beyond his own fifty metres line. Utterly, utterly useless and yet is a great hit with the fans.

Left corner back - Has all the footballing skills of a piece of cheese. An absolute cast-iron guarantee to be put marking the opponents’ young and absurdly fast superstar in the making.

Right half back - Just out of minor, this boyo is sadly not going to get anywhere near the senior team... but yet hasn't missed a training session. His selection is basically the manager's way of proving that he ‘doesn't give a damn who you are, if you're not down training we're not going to give you a game’.

Centre back - He is a disgruntled former senior player. He once tried to remove the senior manager at the club AGM and now has about as much chance of playing senior as he does of playing in an episode of ‘Fair City’. Hasn't trained with the Juniors all year but is still absolutely guaranteed his spot on the team.

Left half back – A county u-16 star, he represents a great white hope for the club. About 5 foot 4, he is still told to get under the kick outs and 'Take the game to the opposition'. This is code for ‘Don't pass it to anyone unless your life is in serious danger’.

Midfielder – A lad who likes his pint a bit too much and who last scored a point in the late ‘90s and yet reckons he is still justified in having a ‘go’ from anywhere inside the opposition's half. Well-liked because he always gets his round in at the post-match drinks.

Midfielder - The full back's older brother, who sports a rather strange looking bandage on his knee - probably hiding teeth marks or something. He is prone to making strange guttural noises every time he strains himself. Eats five dinners a day and is a prime prospect for a coronary.

Right half forward – A quietly-spoken business-man who hails from the village but is now living in Dublin. He drives a flash SUV. Other lads who seem to reside in the pub in the town don't know what to make of him but they all agree ‘he was an awful annoying so-and-so in the national school’.

Centre forward – The third of the set of brothers that includes the full back and midfielder. Perennially, the target of all the brother's clearances... ALL of them.

Left half forward – An utterly, utterly useless 25 year old who by some fluke of nature happens to be a deadly accurate free-taker. He tries to avoid open play altogether as he is far too important to the team to get injured. Basically, he is the team's main source of points.

Right corner forward – A happily married man who hasn't played football since he was twelve but has suddenly decided to take up the game again. His natural talent is completely and utterly over shadowed by his beer belly. He may be sure to bag a goal or two and gain for himself some ridiculous nickname like ’Maradona’ or something.

Full forward – He hasn't scored since Dick Spring was Tánaiste in the government with Albert Reynolds, but is captain of the team and an all-out nut case. His complete inability to find the target is excused by the comment ‘He’s s a good man to bust up the play.’

Left corner forward - The village wide boy, who invariably sports an ear ring and a seriously dodgy haircut. He will be involved with the referee within five minutes of the throw in. He plays the 'foreign' game with the town side five miles down the road and is therefore viewed with suspicion by all and sundry.

If William Arthur Dunkerley had managed to make it on to a ‘junor’ football side all those years ago, wouldn’t you wonder what position he might have played in ?

First published in the programmes for the quarter finals of the All Ireland senior football championship 2007.