by
Norman Freeman
“Talk about Dead-Eye Dick”
A lot of people have been angered that someone from the stands threw a cardboard cup of tea at footballer Ciaran Whelan as he left the pitch after being sent off by the referee in that two-fisted encounter between Dublin with Meath.

What nobody has remarked on is that whoever threw the cup had a good aim. The player was some distance away and was a moving target. Yet the cup almost got him.

This incident was mentioned at the monthly get-together of the Hurling Story-Tellers Club. It raised memories of the fellow from Wexford who gained local renown for his skill in throwing apples at people who annoyed him, especially during heated matches. His first name is Aidan but ‘Apple’ became his nickname during the time when his special attribute flourished.

Though now into his sixties, Aidan is still alive and hearty. He comes from the Enniscorthy area. From a young age he took great delight in throwing sea-rounded stones as he played on the beach at Curracloe. He became very adept at it. The fast. wavering flight of seagulls and terns presented him with real challenges. While he never succeeded in knocking one of these birds out of the sky he came near enough to it. He also practised in the back garden, shying stones at targets that became gradually smaller. He honed his ability to an extraordinary degree.

Although he wasn’t very good at hurling, he was a dedicated follower of the local team, which had junior status at the time. One day he stood with a group of his pals on the embankment at the Bellefield grounds in Enniscorty while his team battled it out in a championship match with fierce rivals.

He had rushed to the match without much of a lunch so on the way had bought a hard, green Granny Smith apple. In the excitement of a tough encounter he forgot all about it. Then a row broke out. A fellow from the opposing team pulled across a friend of his, who went down writhing in pain. The lout was sent off by the referee; he walked slowly along the sideline to shouts of anger and abuse.

Aidan took the Granny Smith from his pocket. He made sure he had arm room around him. He then let fly. The green missile sped downwards. It whacked into the player’s head and bounced high in the air. There was a roar of laughter from many in the crowd. He was an unpopular player, noted for the roughness of his play and his tongue. His own club made no protest to the County Board about the incident.

This encouraged Aidan to further develop this special art. He and a friend used gain entry to Bellefield by climbing over a wall on days when no-one was about. Aidan stood on the sloping embankment near the half-way mark with a bag of rock-hard cooking apples. His friend stuck a flag into the ground near the sideline. Aidan used pitch apples at the target below for at least 30 minutes.

The next notable occasion when his attributes came to the fore was at a championship match against Marshallstown. He went to the match with his friends. He had a cooker in his pocket.

During this key game the linesman consistently gave the most doubtful sideline cuts in favour of Marshallstown. There were calls of protest from the players and spectators from Aidan’s team; even the Marshallstown supporters shook their heads in amusement at some of the decisions.

Aidan took the big dark-green cooker from his pocket. When play had stopped for an injury and the linesman-culprit presented a static target, Aidan let fly. The linesman got an almighty thump between the shoulder-blades and fell on his knees. There were chuckles as several mentors helped him to his feet. Only later did it emerge that the unfortunate man had drink taken, resulting in blurred vision. One of those who helped him to his feet spoke about it afterwards “The blow from the apple sobered the poor fellow up. He made sound decisions from then on.”

However, the event caused a furore. Some members of the county board called for the apple-thrower to be identified. There was a headline over an article in the Enniscorthy Echo that ran “Linesman Laid Low by Apple.”

Because of the publicity, Aidan kept the apple in his pocket for several weeks even though there were a few times of temptation when he wanted to let fly at some wrong-doer.

Then, at a thundering match against bitter rivals, caution got the better of him. The chairman of the opposing club was a parish priest. This man had a reputation for arrogance. He was intimidating as he stalked up and down the sideline, roaring at players, sometimes berating the players from Aidan’s team. In those days ordinary people were a bit afraid of priests; the mentors of Aidan’s team kept well out of his way whenever he came striding past.

Aidan watched this performance for a long while. Then he decided that enough was enough. He took the cooker from his pocket. As the priest stood with arms akimbo on the sideline, roaring like a bull, Aidan let fly. The missile hit the reverend gentleman on the back of the head, knocking his hat off. There were gasps of disbelief from the spectators although some put their hands to their mouths to cover grins.

The priest turned round and shook his fist at the packed embankment. The incident was all over the local papers next week ‘Priest victim of Bellefield apple-thrower’ ran one headline. The priest demanded from the county board that the culprit be identified and punished. Although some of them knew who the perpetrator was they needed witnesses before they could take action. Aidan’s friends stood by him and none of them would inform on him.

Eventually the uproar died down. However it was the end of Aidan’s career as a missile-thrower. Yet, the publicity had an unexpected outcome. He was approached by Wexford Wanderers cricket club. They were badly in need of a fast bowler to help them make any kind of headway in the Leinster League. He become the club’s most accomplished bowler. Many a wicket he took and many a batsman he terrified with his bullet-like deliveries. For six years he was one of the star players. When he retired he was made a presentation of a silver trophy depicting a cricket ball smashing a wicket.

Incidentally, the priest in this story later disappeared off the scene. It was said of him that his authoritarian manner served him well when he was working some years laters as a croupier in a casino of ill-repute in the tiny Portuguese colony of Macau, since absorbed into the People’s Republic of China.