PART SEVEN
BY JOHN FITZGERALD
In Peter Roughan’s recollection, 1926 was the best year ever for the West Street Sports event. Anxious to accommodate even bigger numbers of competitors and spectators, Martin Holden approached Pat Pollard to see if the local tycoon would allow his prized paddock on Callan’s western fringe to serve as a sports arena.
Sure enough, Pat responded cheerfully. “Martin”, he exhorted “You can have it with a heart and a half”.
There were no worries about insurance claims in those days, and the “compo culture” was unheard of.
The Committee, which met in high session a week before the event, had decided after intensive and often heated discussions, to add a few new sports. The meeting this time was held in the Grand Central Hotel and lasted for more than seven hours -an indication of how seriously the Committee men took the whole novelty sports caper.
The hotel Manager kindly consented to it being used as a meeting venue. “Tis the town that will benefit”, he told them, “so consider yourselves my guests”.
A small crowd had gathered outside the hotel during the meeting. When the Committee emerged, the locals pleaded to know of the outcome. Cries of delight greeted Martin Holden’s announcement that Pollard’s Paddock was to be the sports arena.
Dancing would be on the “creamery cement” as usual, with the County Council notice board again doubling up as a platform. A deafening cheer went up. In households around the town, plates rattled on the dressers at the news of a bigger and better sports day.
But there was better news to come: Tilting the Bucket, Sack Racing, Cask Racing, and Tossing the Scarecrow had been added to the list of fixtures. Contestants would have to throw scarecrows laced with horseshoes as far as they could, a more challenging game than simply throwing turnips at a scarecrow as in 1925.
For cask racing, a dozen barrels had to be rolled from one end of the paddock to the other.
Back by popular demand was the obstacle race, which consisted, as already mentioned, of runners struggling to get out from under a canvass covering that, this time around, extended the full length of the paddock, tying their open shoe or boot laces, and then managing to fully consume a roasting hot potato.
The winner of this race was the man, woman, boy or girl (there were categories for all ages) who reached the finishing line with laces securely tied and spud eaten.
Peter Roughan, in his capacity as a Committee man, was well placed to view the action. “We had a circular track marked out for the conventional races, winning post in front of the grand stand, which consisted of chairs and stools from the houses of Callan. Sacks were in plentiful supply for the sack race.
“Pollard’s Paddock never saw such a day, and it will take some beating it ever does again. Scarecrows were tossed further than anyone in Callan had ever tossed them in living memory.
“The casks rolled to such cheering and acclaim that you’d think locals had just re-invented the wheel. Every race from the 60 yards to the Marathon- five or six rounds of the track- was breakneck pace.
“The children, in particular, never seemed to get tired. Mick Doolan of Whitesland had his work cut out with his high jump, and we can remember seeing young Bill Keeffe doing a grand winning jump of 4ft 10 inches.
“And what a grand effort that was of Mary Griffin’s…4ft. 7 inches. A great jump for a schoolgirl.”
To be continued…
