I’m not usually a big sentimental person, thinking about times gone by or the glory days. However, my youngest sister, Orlaith recently shared with me a load of old St Oliver Plunkett photos that appeared on a Lenadoon Facebook page.
To be honest, I don’t use Facebook, I prefer Twitter/X as it helps me promote my Historical Graveyard Tours in City Cemetery and Milltown Cemetery. Although, thinking about this article, there is one glaring omission from the Milltown Tour, Mr Plunkett, Jackie Maxwell.
I firmly intend to include Jackie in my tours, as he deserves to be included with the pantheon of Belfast and Irish heroes that lay beneath the clay in Baile an Mhuilinn. He no doubt deserves his place alongside such illustrious names as Charlie Tully, Winifred Carney, Fr Alec Reid and many others. He is definitely up there!
Therefore, it was a great surprise when I was shown pictures of my old Plunkett teams from different age groups and with different backgrounds. I was brought back to my childhood, my youth and senior football days, and of course it was all made possible by Jackie and his band of volunteers in the Lenadoon estate, Andersonstown. The photos sparked a thousand memories. Whisper it, I even became a bit emotional!
I was greatly influenced by my own father and he helped me enormously as a footballer and as a person, but outside of Paul Sloan in primary school and Proinsias Ó Labhra and Frank Maguire in secondary school, Jackie was the biggest influence on my life and the lives of hundreds, if not thousands of kids in Lenadoon and the greater Andersonstown area. He had a hugely positive influence on us as kids. We all loved football, football was our religion and Jackie was our God.
Jackie played every single role conceivably possible in St Oliver Plunkett Football Club. He was a founder, saviour, director, trainer, manager, coach, bus driver (car driver, his famous Volkswagen estate), advisor, fundraiser, washerman, secretary and agony uncle! He did everything! A lion of a man, an inspiration, a visionary, a rocket as well, but in a good way!
St Oliver Plunkett FC are now one of the top amateur league clubs in Ireland. They are renowned in the North and throughout Béal Feirste. Boys, men, girls and ladies come from all corners of Belfast to play for the Black and Whites. Plunkett have junior teams for boys and girls at all age levels, from primary school ages to teenagers. They even boast three senior men's teams. The club is now nearly unrecognisable from the 1980’s and early 1990’s both on and off the pitch.
BLEEDING BLACK AND WHITE: The author, front left, with Oliver Plunkett F.C.
They have a home playing pitch in the Lenadoon estate with benches and dug-outs and proper nets and posts! It looks great. They have their own leisure wear, hoodies, sports gear, sliders, towels, quilts, mugs etc all bedecked in the famous black and white colours. “Black and White Blood” as the older members used to say!
Onfield, teams are participating in the National League, though it’s really only the six counties, senior teams are now in the Amatuer League at the top end. Success breeds success, a huge demand and growth in popularity. The club is miles ahead of the outfit I was involved in. This is Jackie Maxwell’s legacy. His heritage. From small acorns and all that!
But, it wasn’t always like this! In my day, we used to be struggling to field a team to get players, never mind talking about three senior teams and players of the month awards! I can remember driving around with Jackie or running around knocking on someone’s door, begging somebody to bring a brother, cousin, sister, friend! The majority of the players were from the same families, streets, schools and all knew each other.
We didn’t have full rigs and were always envious of other teams that looked the part. But, that never stopped us once the game started!
KING OF WEST: Jackie Maxwell pictured in 2011
It has been well documented before, but we did travel to games in Jackie’s car or the Glen Parent Youth Group minibus.
Jackie’s family home was Plunkett GHQ, spare a thought for his long suffering wife, Kathleen and his children! His garage was our meeting place, his office, kit room and laundry. Jackie ran and organised the Plunkett machine from his Ladybrook home from the late seventies up until the nineties.
It is hard to explain, to sum up the positive role that Jackie played on the Lenadoon community and Plunkett, he was a beacon of hope and light in a dark place sometimes, especially as the club roots can be traced back to the beginning of the recent conflict in 1969, when the club was established.
St Oliver Plunkett FC was a refuge, a sanctuary and a safe place for thousands of young boys during the worst years of the Troubles, thanks to Jackie and his disciples. Jackie was a whirlwind, but he had plenty of helpers, mostly local men and fathers. Volunteers in every sense of the word, men like Ardy Russell, Don Carmichael, Tom Mc Glone, Jimmy Lindsay, Jimmy Hughes, Noel Monaghan, Marty Mc Laughlin, John Watson, Davy Mc Grath, Neil and Danny Mc Kee, Meekies, Marty Hagan and loads more!!
On the other hand, Jackie was always the main man, the boss. He was the most important coach and mentor in the mind of all the young players. When you were training in Lenadoon field, with one of the other coaches and you noticed that Jackie was coming your way, you increased your pace and effort, you tried that wee bit harder, his advice ringing in your ears “Hammer”, you ran quicker, you hit harder, you jumped higher for the header, you tracked back, you give and go, you didn’t eat the ball, you passed and moved, on the touch, touch ball, give and go, two touch, you marked, you supported the pass, you lifted your head, you gave an option, down the line, if in doubt…..
We all tried to please Jackie, to get his approval, hoping that he would praise you, give you words of encouragement. You felt ten feet tall, as proud as punch when he used your name and he always had something positive to say.
I remember reading Roy Keane’s autobiography and the Cork man spoke about Brian Clough’s presence at the City Ground in Nottingham Forest. Even when he wasn’t there, he was there, there was an aura about him. Jackie had that. We loved him.
Jackie was a disciplinarian too, a father figure. He was strict, firm and fair. I remember vividly the day of the Shankill Bombing. I was playing for Plunkett in Mallusk, Saturday afternoon. An October afternoon, autumn, but the sun was shining.
Following the game, we were getting changed and showered, thinking about the burger van and chips, too young for pints. Jackie came into the dressing room, stern faced, he told us to get ready quick, we need to get home as quick as possible. We all did as we were told. I remember sitting on the bus as the terrible news slowly dripped through on the radio. Regrettably, but in the context of terrible sectarian tit for tat killings in the early nineties, one or two lads shouted out unwelcome remarks.
In early October 1993, one of our own players, a good friend of mine at the time, had lost his father in a random loyalist sectarian shooting at Belfast Harbour Estate. Jackie quickly reminded everybody on the bus of the seriousness of the situation. This was life or death. The news continued to flow in as the death toll increased, nobody said a word until we were back at Greenways. Jackie made sure that not a single sectarian comment would be heard or uttered by any Plunkett youth on that bus. He was right, he always was.
Jackie was seldom seen without his dog and his trusty camera. In the days before mobile phones, Jackie was the club’s photographer. The photos that he took are a social history of Lenadoon. The difference between the old photos on the old Lenadoon field, before Rinnelea was built and the photos even from the nineties are completely different. You can see the poor facilities, the deprivation, the poverty, the war torn streets from the Hunger Strike period or the remains of Internment Bonfires on Lenadoon Field. The standard of kits and rigs also stand out. Therefore, that is why the new St.Oliver Plunkett homeground, the Stadium of Light, is completely different from the dark days of the Troubles. It is impressive.
Jackie always planned a summer trip. It was the highlight of the year for us. Only a very few went abroad on holidays, nobody could afford it. We weren’t poor, we just got by. Jackie made sure with the help of our own families that we got away from Belfast during the summer. I have fond memories of going to Ballycastle. We all stayed in a big guest house on the top of the hill in the town. Kathleen, Jackie’s wife and others made breakfast, lunch and dinner. We trained on a local pitch, played matches against the country teams, messed about, went on the dodgems, swam in the sea, went to the chippy, tried to kiss girls and generally had a ball, away from the distractions of Léana an Dúin.
I know that there are hundreds of Jackie Maxwells in different clubs throughout Ireland. GAA clubs, rugby clubs, athletic clubs, whatever. But Jackie’s personal tragedy, the lack of financial backing, the lack of support from the state, the social deprivation of the time and the presence of occupation forces in Lenadoon, makes Jackie’s achievements more and more unbelievable. He really was a force of nature.
We also went to Scotland and played against Scottish youth teams. Jackie arranged the whole trip. Holiday planner, I forgot to add that to his accolades!
In Scotland, we stayed with host families and played on red or orange gravel pitches, received new tracksuits, and went on the boat! It was brilliant. Blackpool was another tournament that Plunkett visited too, but I was a senior player by then.
Nowadays, Plunkett kids participate in the Foyle Cup and the Milk Cup, which are the premier soccer competitions on the island. Maith iad.
St Oliver Plunkett FC have grown exponentially since the early days and Jackie’s Volkswagen estate as a means of transport. Without Jackie, quite simply there would be no club. No amatuer league teams, girls' teams and boys' teams, definitely no leisure wear or dug outs! He dedicated his adult life to Lenadoon and the people of Andersonstown. He did this of course at the time of a dangerous conflict.
Jackie sacrificed family time and probably his own sanity, working with the young men from Lenadoon. In an interview, before he died, he commented that “Plunkett saved me”. Jackie suffered a terrible family tragedy that led him to devoting himself, almost reverentially to a cause for life, like a priest.
Jackie didn’t drink or smoke. Plunkett was his fix, his drug. This was never more apparent when he lost two of his own children Sean and Gerard in an accident on the Glen Road. Jackie and Kathleen raised their other four children, but undoubtedly this incident left a massive mark on him. His response was typical of the man. He turned adversity into opportunity. Jackie was a humble man. He rarely spoke about this, always putting others first.
I know that there are hundreds of Jackie Maxwells in different clubs throughout Ireland. GAA clubs, rugby clubs, athletic clubs, whatever. But Jackie’s personal tragedy, the lack of financial backing, the lack of support from the state, the social deprivation of the time and the presence of occupation forces in Lenadoon, makes Jackie’s achievements more and more unbelievable. He really was a force of nature.
Finally, my own children play gaelic football and camogie, even though soccer was always my first love. The greatest praise and possibly the greatest comparison that I could make regarding Plunkett, for those that may not have heard about the club or the man himself is that, Jackie and all that he achieved, his legacy is akin to the feeling that you get in a rural GAA club, but multiplied by ten!
Jackie built community, identity, culture, belonging, participation, pride in your parish resilience, respect, sportsmanship and many more attributes. Nowadays, the vast majority of Plunkett coaches and helpers are ex-players. That is a testament to Jackie’s vision.
Jackie’s name lives on, the younger Plunkett teams chant his name…
Jackie Maxwell’s Black and White Army! I think he would like that.
Ní bheidh a leithéid ann arís.
