On the back of the missalette for the requiem Mass was a black-and-white photograph of a dashing young footballer in the sky-blue shirt of Dublin, holding a Gaelic football with the heavy lacing of the 1950s period and the steadfast gaze of some matinee idol.
The second act of Kevin Heffernan’s life as the godfather and re-creator of Dublin football has so filled the sky that it almost eclipses the fact he is also regarded as one of the finest Gaelic footballers of the last century.
That portrait of the manager as a young man bore simple testimony to a life crowded with glittering accomplishment and immeasurable influence.
They all said it: Kevin Heffernan was special.
Yesterday generations of Dublin footballers walked in twos and threes up the steps of the Church of St Vincent de Paul on Griffith Avenue to both celebrate the long and fascinating life of Kevin Heffernan and to mourn his death along with Mary, his beloved wife, and Orla, the couple’s daughter.
Shaper of lives
As ever, the players spoke about Heffo. And even as they prepared to say goodbye to him, there was the sense that they were still trying to get to grips with the man whose voice and leadership shaped lives.
“He was . . . ahh, he was just awesome,” sighed Kevin Moran, the idol of how-many 1970s city teenagers, still raven-haired and lean as he stood at the steps of the church.
“It meant an awful lot to him beating Kerry in 1976 . . . He said he had waited so many years for the chance to beat Kerry in the final. He never set out to change the course of the game, he just set out to make Dublin successful and that is what he did do. And then everything else followed after that.”
Eoin “The Bomber” Liston, the genial big man from Kingdom country and a thorn in Kevin Heffernan’s side on more than one September, smiled as he remembered how the Dublin boss would preoccupy Kerry thoughts in those golden summers. “We knew how smart he was. And we often lay awake at night wondering had he our measure.”
The church was full long before 11am. President Michael D Higgins was represented by Cmdt Tony Whelan, and the Taoiseach Enda Kenny by Cmdt Mick Treacy. Fianna Fáil leader Micheál Martin was present and former taoiseach Brian Cowen stood with mourners at the rear of the church.
Minister for Jobs Richard Bruton arrived with Minister for Transport Leo Varadkar. Dublin Lord Mayor Naoise Ó Múirí was in attendance too.
Three flags decorated the interior of the church: the blue and white of St Vincent’s, the Irish Tricolour and the navy and sky-blue of Dublin.
Msgr John Fitzpatrick told the congregation that the chalice on the altar had been made from the medals donated by the 1955 St Vincent’s team. “Which one of us did not believe that we were intrepid soldiers in Heffo’s Army?” he asked fondly.
As Tony Hanahoe said, all of Dublin’s All-Ireland victories since 1955 are touched with the fingerprints of Kevin Heffernan: “He was omnipresent in Dublin football.”
Driven and compassionate
And his influence was omnipotent. The tributes continued to reflect the many sides of the man – he was driven, yes, and sometimes impatient, caustic, compassionate, and never predictable. Shy behind it all. He liked to pay midnight visits to friends in hospital. He offered advice when asked and he was often asked.
“Not always what you wanted to hear but what you needed to hear,” said Pat Gilroy, the St Vincent’s man and former Dublin player and manager whose father, Jackie, was a lifelong friend of Heffo’s.
To Aisling O’Connor, he was simply “our grandad”. “Thank you for all the fun we had together and for always being our friend,” she said during the prayers of the faithful.
Sense of humour
He had a wicked sense of humour and sometimes played on the fact that his word was law.
Pat Gilroy told the yarn of the player who informed Heffo that he couldn’t make training for a few nights and gave the manager a litany of reasons as to why, and then, alluding to the match on Sunday, breezily concluded, “But I’ll see ya at the weekend.” Heffo feigned puzzlement and simply replied: “Where?”
The 1970s band was in awe of him and even though they spent hours locked in the hut in Parnell Park, plotting and scheming, they struggled to work him out. But as Hanahoe stressed, “contrary to rumour, he did not rule by fear”.
No, it was more complex. He ruled because they wanted to please him. Forty years on, they still do. And so they kept gathered in force yesterday: Brian Mullins, still holding that ramshackle midfield gait; Jimmy Keaveney, still chirpy but not quite as portly as he was in his pomp; and, standing on the green, Ciaran Duff and Joe McNally, part of the gang of 1983, Heffo’s last All-Ireland vintage. They were all there, Dublin players and mentors past and present.
Lorcan Redmond, Seán “Doc” Doherty, Paddy Cullen, Pat O’Neill, Mullins and Hanahoe were his pallbearers. The sight of those men carrying Heffo out of St Vincent’s brought to mind what Paddy Barry said after serving as pallbearer for the Cork legend Christy Ring: “We carried him at last.”
Old friends and finest of enemies said hello and shared stories and sympathy before the last journey to St Fintan’s Cemetery in Sutton. Somebody took hold of Jim Gavin’s shoulder as he made his way from the church. “I’m behind you all the way,” the well-wisher told the new Dublin manager.
Torches get passed. Heffernan lit an Olympian flame not just in Dublin football but in Dublin life. The trees were leafless along Griffith Avenue and the sky was bleak as bright applause bounced along the walls and gables of the suburban streets he first mapped out as a boy.
On Saturday night a new football season begins. The Dubs will take the field in Croke Park under the bright lights and giddy expectation of the fans. You will hear them sing and remember that that raucous choir is and always will be the sound of Kevin Heffernan’s Dublin.
