A collusion of circumstance and a commitment to my late father took me to the prematch lunch before Suttonians vs Wexford Wanderers at Station Road last weekend.
My dad passed away recently, after being sick for a number of years. One of the unintended gifts of his illness was the time we got to spend with him, in and out of hospital, often just keeping him company, filling the long hours with idle chat.
It was during one of those conversations that Dad asked me to reach out to Suttonians to see if they’d like his old club blazer. The crest was hand-stitched in wire, as was the style back in the 1970s, and he thought they might appreciate it for reference.
As it turned out, this is the club’s centenary year, and they had been gathering memorabilia to mark the milestone. That small gesture made my dad very happy; another little task with a tick beside it before he was finished.
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At the lunch, Suttonians president Andy Johnston shared a bit more of the story. He explained that long before Brian O’Driscoll and I formed our centre partnership for Leinster and Ireland, both our fathers had played for Suttonians, Frank O’Driscoll shortly after my father, John. Moments like that have a way of bringing everything full circle.
How are Leinster and Munster stacking up ahead of their first meeting of the season?
I’ve been very lucky that my parents were there when I first picked up a rugby ball with Wexford Wanderers and again when the curtain came down on my professional career in 2015. Parents play such an important role in their children’s lives. That dynamic continues right until the end, when the baton is passed as sons and daughters become fathers and mothers.
Dad passed away on August 11th, and in the weeks since, I’ve felt the slow appreciation of his absence. I’m now a father too, and no longer have the safety net of my own father. It has led to a lot of reflection on what it means to be a father, in life, and naturally, in sport.
Sport is as cyclical as life itself. My parents stood on the sidelines of pitches and attended school events for their kids, just as my wife Aoife and I do today. Sport cannot exist without families and communities, the organisers, the drivers, the players and coaches, everyone coalescing to keep it alive and kicking at grassroots level.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking back on how my dad was involved in my rugby journey. It was a long and winding road, and he was there for every step and clocked up incredible mileage over the course of my rugby career.
He racked up countless lifts to Leinster and Ireland underage camps as a teenager, the thankless trips to Peebles, or those late-night ferries and drives to Rodney Parade. He knew that sometimes all you can do is be there, and he went above and beyond in that regard.
On one occasion, I was jumping in the car with him after a game in Ulster. As he waited outside the changing rooms, one of the home supporters asked if he was my driver. Dad smiled and said “yes”.
Like most children, I desperately sought my parents’ approval in everything I did, and rugby was no different. I had plenty of ups and downs in my career, some self-inflicted woes, others just part of the attrition of the sport. Dad was never judgemental about the decisions I made. He never tried to overly influence me either, and he never got too excited when things went well, or too down when they didn’t.
He offered advice when it was sought and kept his counsel when it wasn’t. I’m pretty confident there were plenty of times he would have liked to venture an opinion, but he was restrained. However, when I did look for his input, he always struck the perfect balance, never trying to solve issues for me but steering me in the right direction.
So when I’d nearly pissed my career up against the wall in 1999, and Matt Williams was on the verge of letting me go, there was no sympathetic ear and no indulgence of my defiant tone, just a simple question: “Do you think Matt might be right?”
I hated that answer, and I still do today. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear but it was exactly what I needed to hear. And sometimes that is what being a parent is about.
Dad never put pressure on me to succeed. Instead, he and Mum supported me in the best way they could: by being there. They were there at my first match for Leinster, Ireland, the Lions and everything in between. I shared my journey with them and they were always there for me. And that’s the lesson I’ve come back to most over these past weeks.
Because when you become a parent, it’s easy to get swept up in your children’s sport, the competition, the fixtures, the desire to see them do well. We all know the feeling. But sport, especially at a young age, should never be about the outcomes.
It’s about fun, learning the skills to play the game and the quiet life lessons that come with it: teamwork, resilience, friendship and disappointment. Nobody knows what the future will hold, and that’s the beauty of it.
What I want for my children is simple. I want them to enjoy sport. I want to be part of that enjoyment, not a source of pressure or expectation. And when they look back on my life one day, I hope they remember the support Aoife and I showed in a positive way.
I hope they remember us cheering from the sidelines, not because we expected anything, but because we were there – like my dad was for me – proud just to watch them play.
That blazer of his found its way home to Suttonians this year, a small piece of his story woven back into the fabric of the club. Maybe that’s what sport offers at its best, generations passing something on, quietly, without fuss. Just showing up, lending support, and being there.
Oh, and the match? Suttonians were worthy winners on the day.
