Magee Jimmy - Memory Man: Sports trivia from the Memory Man Jimmy Magee

Dedicated to the lasting memory of Marie and Paul and to those they left behind Linda, June, Patricia and Mark

Chapter 1

| EARLY YEARS

I was a twelve-year-old boy listening on the wireless to the 1947 all-Ireland final between Kerry and Cavan in New Yorkthe only one ever to be played outside Irelandwhen I first dreamt about becoming a sports commentator. All these years later I still have to pinch myself when I reflect on how I have travelled more than a million miles and visited more than eighty-five countries in my broadcasting career, which is still going strong after six decades. It makes me, according to those who know these things, one of the longest-serving sports commentators in the world today.

For the first three thousand miles of those epic journeys I didnt have to pay the fare, nor did I select the journey or the mode of transport, because my mother brought me from my birthplace of New York to live in Ireland when I was three years old.

Even though both my parents were from north Co. Louth, they didnt know each other until they met in the Big Apple and fell head over in heels in loveas did thousands of other Irish expatriates who had left the old sod to seek their fortune. Im not too sure how my father, Patrick Magee, met my mother, Rose Mackin, but if I was a betting man Id put my money on them first clapping eyes on each other at a dance or at one of the frequent functions organised for Louth natives.

I was born on 31 January 1935 in the Bronx. I was the first-born of four childrentwo boys, myself and Sen, and two girls, Mary and Patriciabut, tragically, my younger brother, Sen, died as an infant. I have vivid memories of Sen, and even though I was too young to realise what was happening, I remember sensing that something was not right, as Sen was always ill and cried a lot. I dont know what the cause of death was, and strangely I have little recall of the death itself, but I do know that it was a devastating experience for my parents, and I doubt that they ever got fully over it.

At the time the threat of America entering the war was looming, and my parents, who were homesick anyway and were being drawn home, like everyone else, used this as an excuse to permanently move back to Ireland. I never spoke to them about it, but I believe their rationale was that America probably wasnt a place for young James to be growing up in.

Its something I can sympathise with, because many years later I got an offer of a job in Akron, Ohio, as a sports broadcaster and DJ . It would have been a perfect gigthe money and job package offered were very attractivebut I had two children at the time and I thought they would be better off being reared in Ireland than in America. To her credit, my wife, Marie, did encourage me to take the American job, because she could see I was really tempted, but I reluctantly turned down the offer and have never had any regrets or thought about the path my career might have taken. Whats the point in having regrets? Life is too short for that.

To this day my ties with America are strong. I have an American passport as well as my Irish one, and I still get excited when I return to my birthplace. Theres a buzz about the place that you get as soon as you leave JFK Airport and head towards the bright lights and the big city on the Long Island Expressway, the excitement building as you pass Shea Stadium and then the magnificent skyline of Manhattan suddenly appears. Without fail, it always awakes special feelings in me; I dont know if that comes from the fact that I was born there.

Travel has become a very important part of my life. Its funny how travel and sports have combined to bring me to places that most people only dream of. I love going back to New York at least once a year and soaking up the atmosphere and walking the streets to relive memories of my very early childhood and also of later years, after my father died and my mother and sisters returned to start afresh.

Before my fathers tragically early death, when I was fifteen years old, I had an idyllic childhood in rural Co. Louth, in the Carlingford-Greenore area, about ten miles from Dundalk.

My father would be best described as a building engineer or mechanical engineer, and he did most of his technical work on the Cooley alcohol factory, which is now Cooley Distillery.

Before rural electrification, when the ESB put the poles up across the country, most households had paraffin lamps. My father, Lord have mercy on him, created his own wind-charger and electricity unit, and we had power pumped into our house long before anyone else had it. He had an amazing engineering brain, which I unfortunately dont possess. When I think of the man I think he must have been a genius in his own way.

First he built a base for the electricity unit; then he put a hole in the base, into which he fitted a pole that was about 25 to 30 feet high, and then filled in the base around it. I remember watching him then get a ladder and attach a dynamo to the top of the pole. He brought the dynamo up to the top, then reached into his pockets for all the screws and washers and toolsbecause he did all this single-handed, without any help. Down below he had batteries connected up to suck in the power from a propeller that rotated when the wind blew it.

Watching him at such a height I remember feeling nervous for himand, to be honest, I dont think he fancied being up there in the first place. He had to tie up the propeller so it couldnt move in the breeze until he had fitted the batteries to take the power and feed it. When he had the batteries all linked up he went back up the ladder again, loosened the propeller, and descended. As soon as the wind blew we had power, and when the wind stopped we had reserve power from the batteries. I have to say I wish I had thought of telling him before he died that he was fantastic in being able to undertake such a challenge.

My mother used to wonder if I would ever be able to do anything with my hands. But I was the complete opposite of my father, who was so handy: he had the brain and the hands of an engineer, while his first-born son was bloody hopeless using his hands. Just to show how bad I am with my hands, I once made a clothes-horse in school, which had a dovetail joint, but when I had all the joints done and it was time to assemble it I discovered that one side was slightly higher than the other. I had to get the plane out to narrow it down, and of course then it was too much tilted the other way. This thing that started out at four foot high was suddenly two-and-a-half foot high. When I brought it home, my mother thought I was the bees knees and was boastfully showing it off to all the neighbours. Look what my Jimmy made, she said. Then one night she put a tea towel on it and the thing just collapsed. I think I decided there and then that I was not cut out to be a tradesman.

When we finally had electricity, I was amazed by the lights and particularly having a working radio switched on, listening intently to the sports programmes.

I was fascinated hearing Mchel OHehir doing the commentary for the 1947 all-Ireland final in New York, and I thought, Some day, Im going to do that. And I made my mind up there and then that this was it for me, and nothing was going to derail me or detour me from becoming a sports commentator.

Apart from OHehir, in those early days my broadcasting idols would have been the likes of Stewart MacPherson, John Arlott, and Raymond Glendenning, who worked with the BBC . They all helped bring out my passion for broadcasting and made me seriously think that I would like to do it.