By Charlie Mulqueen
I’VE been in many press centres covering golf and rugby over the past forty years and more but I don’t believe I’ve seen anything to rival what went on at Baltray on Sunday night.
As soon as Shane Lowry had been officially presented with the Irish Open trophy and the rain lashed down, he made straight for the press tent followed it seemed by the whole of the Co Offaly including Taoiseach Brian Cowen and two of his Government ministers Martin Cullen and Dermot Ahern.
Nobody took a scrap of notice of the politicians, not even the media hounds and the snappers. All they wanted was ANOTHER shot of the young hero, ANOTHER soundbyte. As for the fans, no security team in the world could have kept the Offaly hordes at bay and in fairness I don’t think anybody wanted to stop them. In they piled and at last you could hardly hear the rain walloping off the roof of the tent such was the noise they were creating.
Shane hugged his girl friend Deirdre Molloy, who couldn’t keep the tears back, but his mum (don’t call her Bridget, everyone knows here as Bridgie) was all smiles and had a word for everybody, stranger or friend.
The noise reached crescendo level at the actual interview when Shane declared that his victory far outstripped in significance the All-Ireland final medal his father Brendan had picked up as a member of the Offaly team that foiled the Kerry five-in-a-row back in 1982. When the cheering and applause died down – and remember this was an official European Tour champion’s interview – Brendan himself was quickly in to agree!
With the formalities – such as they were – over, Shane’s amateur partner Rory McIlroy announced that he was buying champagne for the assembled media on behalf of his friend. I know I didn’t see a drop of it although in truth I was facing a four hour car journey through horrendous weather so didn’t want any.
Did a few drops of the bubbly stuff make it down a few Offaly throats? I strongly suspect so and good luck to them. They had endured horrendous weather conditions out there and badly needed sustenance! As the minutes sped by and deadlines drew nearer, the hacks were pounding away on their laptops, fearful all the time that some stray fizzing champagne could do irreparable damage to their working machinery.
Had such a disaster struck, not too many of us would have minded. It was that kind of day, that kind of occasion. And still Messrs Cowen, Cullen and Ahern took a back seat. A few radio microphones were stuck in front of them and they came up with the usual pious platitudes. Ask any of them, though, whether this latest sporting achievement might mean renewed funding for sporting facilities, coaching and the like, and the answers were a lot more muted!
However, this was no occasion for cynicism and as the tent slowly emptied, we tapped away merrily, helped by the dulcet tones of the Lowry fans singing their heads off in the nearby bars and restaurants. As I struggled with all the usual gear to the waterlogged car park, they were still at it. Fortunately, the organisers had done a wonderful job and somehow managed to get us back on terra firma and fears that we might have been left there overnight were unfounded.
And as I approached the exit gate, I perceived what looked like a long, snaking row of cars headed for the midlands of Ireland – or Clara to be exact. It was the centre of the universe for many proud Offaly men and women on Sunday night. And rightly so.
