Sport

Damian Casey committed his heartbreakingly short life to hurling

Paul McConville

Paul McConville

Paul is the Irish News sports editor. He has worked for the newspaper since 2003 as a sub-editor and sports reporter. He also writes a weekly column on craft beer.

Tyrone hurler Damian Casey. File picture by Seamus Loughran
Tyrone hurler Damian Casey. File picture by Seamus Loughran Tyrone hurler Damian Casey. File picture by Seamus Loughran

It’s one of those relatively unjust yet endlessly endearing quirks of Gaelic Games that its amateur status often traps talent in place where it may not get to scale the heights of the sport.

There’s no transfer market, no mechanism for a handful of teams to harvest the best and brightest from around the country and pit them against each other.

A moderate talent born into Kerry stock may happen upon a few Celtic Crosses in a sporting career, a supremely gifted one in a less heralded outpost may find themselves habitually on a list of ‘the best players never to win an All-Ireland.’

It’s why even the brightest gems may not sparkle to the casual eye. However, whether you lift the ash in Doon or Dungannon, there’s little to distinguish between the passion and commitment to the game in those respective places.

Damian Casey committed his heartbreakingly short life to the game which consumed him and as a proud Tyrone man, never swaggered more than when powering the Red Hands to victory.

He was a colossus where the caman code is treasured by fiercely committed few

The O’Neill County may never get acquainted with Liam MacCarthy in meaningful battle, but Damian Casey was a hurler who could stand shoulder to shoulders with those whose hands gripped gleefully to the old trophy in the past.

Knowing the glass ceiling that is lower tier hurling didn’t not diminish his desire to showcase his skills for the sake of his home sod, whether that was in countless Titanic tussles between his own Eoghan Ruadh and the other internal standard bearers Eire Og, or in the white and red of Tyrone, plotting the downfall of provincial rivals and those further afield.

The devastating loss of Damian Casey is a stark reminder of the fragility of human life and the frivolous joy that sport brings when stacked up against the sobering prose of everyday life.

Sport doesn’t matter at times like this and at the same time it matters most because how else would the world have got to glimpse the artistry and courage of the man from Dungannon, a wizard of the ash, cruelly stolen from us?