BALLYBRIT MEMORIES
by Tom Kenny
On the night before the papal visit, most of our extended family moved into my brother’s house in Ballybane. No motorised traffic would be allowed near the place on the day of the event, it would be a shorter walk from Ballybane to Ballybrit, and maybe we would have a chance to get a little more sleep.
Some chance! The extraordinary carnival atmosphere outside as crowds of people made their way towards the racecourse made sleep impossible. My sister-in-law had made an enormous pot of soup, and it was all needed as we spent our time bringing out bowls of soup, mugs of tea and coffee, sandwiches, etc., mostly to people who had travelled long distances by coach and who were now walking to Ballybrit. For them, as for us all, it was a true pilgrimage in every sense of the word.
All the doors in Ballybane were open that night, as people shared with others, and allowed them to use toilet facilities, make phone calls, etc. Such was the spirit of the occasion.
It was still dark when our group set off. One of the people we met on the Monivea Road was Bishop Eamonn Casey, who was walking like all the other pilgrims. He apologised that he “had things to do” and took off at a very quick pace through the crowds; and crowds there were – people with layers of clothes on, backpacks, plastic bags of food and flasks. There were lots of people on the side of the road selling stools, large umbrellas, and flags of all sizes. There was an extraordinary mixture of expectation, excitement, and calm.
As we approached the racecourse, we could hear the haunting traditional airs being played by Na Fili. The organisation and the stewarding was superb, and we had no difficulty getting into our “corral”. The entire racecourse had been laid out by the Galway architect Simon J. Kelly in a series of these “corrals”. Every person was given a corral number in order to impose order and control on a crowd of some 280,000 on a 60 acre site, and it worked wonderfully except for a little crushing on the race track rails while communion was being distributed. It was getting light now, but there was a heavy mist, which prompted Father Michael Cleary to exhort us all to pray that the mist would clear. Himself and Bishop Eamonn were a terrific double act, entertaining the huge crowd and getting them going. Never was “By the Rivers of Babylon” sung with such gusto, or by so many.
While keeping one eye on the stage, the other was kept in an easterly direction as we watched and waited for the helicopter, and suddenly, there it was! The place went mad! Children up on adult shoulders, flags waving, banners from every parish in the country, cheering. The intense excitement was eventually replaced by a spiritual calm as the mass got under way.
And then we heard for the first time, that strong resonant voice “A aos og na h- Éireann, go mbeannai Dia sibh.” We were overawed by the simple fact that the Pope was in Galway.
And then, that unforgettable moment – “Young people of Ireland, I love you” followed by a spontaneous explosion of cheering, clapping, crying, ten long minutes of mutual affection as the applause rolled around the racecourse again and again. It was unconfined joy. Singing “He’s got the whole world in his hands”. We sang it so well, with the Pope applauding us, that Father Cleary had to intervene and tell us that the Pontiff was hoping to get to Knock that day. There were long dignified queues for Holy Communion, the priests were going among the crowds in an orderly fashion accompanied by people carrying black and white umbrellas over their heads.
It is strange to think that the papal altar was within a few yards of a Mass Rock. Then, the Pope was in the popemobile, and though he did not get near where we were, it did not matter because we were there in his presence, on that memorable magical day he came to Ballybrit.
All the doors in Ballybane were opened up again that afternoon and evening.