AS soon as this photograph landed in my in-box on Saturday evening, I was immediately nostalgic for the late 90s and early Noughties.
Most of the Antrim lads in the photograph have wintered well. Maybe some slightly better than others.
From left to right are former Antrim goalkeeper Sean McGreevy, dual player Gavin Bell, Kevin Brady, big Joe Quinn, Kevin Madden, Gearoid Adams, Dermot Niblock and Peter McCann.
All of them are still embedded in the GAA. Adams is Clonduff’s new manager. Madden is with Clonoe this year. McGreevy is still preaching the gospel of goalkeeping. Brady was assisting Lenny Harbinson in Omagh while all the others are at the coalface of coaching juvenile teams at their respective clubs.
For those not familiar with the class of the late 90s and early Noughties of Antrim, this photograph mightn’t resonate.
This could simply be a photograph of a bunch of 40-somethings standing or crouching outside a shop window in Belfast’s city centre on a Saturday evening before their Christmas party.
But in between Kevin Madden and Gearoid Adams is a photographic image in the shop window – which, incidentally, is the O’Neill’s Sportswear shop in Royal Avenue - of the late Anto Finnegan.
Finnegan was a team-mate of theirs who sadly passed away just over two years ago from Motor Neurone Disease.
Many of us have played team sports in our youth, we’ve played with people that would be friends for life.
When our playing days inevitably trundle to a halt, we promise ourselves and each other that we will keep in touch, organise get-togethers and remain in close contact.
And when we’re clinking pints in later life, we will always be that 25-year-old team-mate, that free spirit, the wise-cracker of the changing room – and not the 45-year-old who has been worn down by mortgages, children and the cost of living.
When you say goodbye to your sport, the ties that bind loosen a little with each passing year.
But the bond that this group of former Antrim footballers share must be one of the strongest in GAA circles - brought about by the charisma of their former manager Brian White.
With their playing careers firmly in their rear view, Madden, Adams, McGreevy, Niblock, McCann, Quinn and Brady still meet up every Christmas.
Up until two years ago, Anto would have joined them for the Christmas party.
Even though he was wheelchair-bound, Gearoid, Madden and the boys would move heaven and earth to make sure he joined them.
After all, there was no show without Anto.
How lucky was the St Paul’s man to have such loyal friends.
When you think back to their playing days, two matches spring to mind. The day they beat Pete McGrath’s Down team and the image of an ecstatic McGreevy at the final whistle embracing his St Paul’s club-mate Joe Quinn.
And, of course, the other match was their Ulster semi-final joust with Derry a few weeks later, again at Casement Park, in the summer of 2000 when Anthony Tohill’s big paws prevented Shenny McQuillan’s effort sailing over the posts and denying Whitey’s charges a place in a provincial final.
That privilege came nine years later under Derry man Liam ‘Baker’ Bradley.
But Anto was one of those people that left an impression on me during and long after his playing days.
On the field, he had a warrior’s heart. He was the kind of defender who never believed in anything was a lost cause.
Away from the field, he left a more lasting impression on people in the dignified way he dealt with the ravaging effects MND and the energy with which he expended in raising awareness and thousands of pounds for his charity deterMND.
Despite the merciless nature of the disease, Finnegan never lay under it. During the worst effects of COVID I interviewed him about always having to recalibrate his life because he described MND as a “series of [physical] losses” as time passes.
He was a deeply intelligent, empathetic individual. During lockdown in 2020, I asked him what he had learned. His reply was inspiring.
“What have I learned? That those people in society we treat like second class citizens in terms of remuneration and how we pay them, the contracts that they’re on, the zero-contracts and the work that they’re doing, the uncivil hours they work, and classing them as ‘unskilled’ workers.
“It is quite evident that they are quite the opposite, that they are absolutely necessary to a functioning society and the fact that we pay them less than what we pay others in the employment hierarchy.
“One thing that I hope will come out of all this is that we no longer see restaurant workers, takeaway drivers, care workers, nurses, delivery drivers, people in the service industry – as ‘unskilled’ or not worthy of a decent contract, a decent wage, decent holidays and that they be rewarded for the fantastic work that they do.”
He had a social conscience that ran through him like a stick of rock.
I once messaged him saying that he would make a good columnist. Quick-witted as ever, he replied: “You spelt communist wrong.”
It’s no wonder that his team-mates that still meet up every Christmas after all these years are keen to keep Anto’s memory alive because of his unique kind of intellect, energy, passion and empathy he often displayed while battling his illness for the best part of a decade.
This photograph at the O’Neill’s shop window in Belfast’s city centre is one of the most beautiful you’ll see.
It’s beautiful because it tells us that friendships can and will last forever.