The mighty men of Matehy

In the early 1970s, all fundraising ideas to build the new community centre in Inniscarra, Co Cork were put into action.

In the field beside the Inniscarra Bar, long known as the Cycle Rest, there was a marquee erected for a dance in the evening and the main attraction by day was to be a tug-of-war competition between all the townlands in the parish.

There had been a long tradition of tug-of-war teams in the area in previous generations, going back to the 1920s and before, but this was the impetus for a fresh revival.

On the surface this was to be a thing of fun and careless abandon but the banter and bragging between the different townlands soon began.

A chance remark about the men of Dripsey having huge muscular arms and who would pull any other team out of the field led to a plan of action for the team from Matehy.

Testing their strength

A month or so before the fundraising carnival, the Matehy men convened in the evening times after milking, in Sheehan’s field up behind the school and began to test their strength.

Tug-of-war is a physically exhausting and extremely taxing sport, putting pressure on the wrists, hands, arms, legs and back. Above all, it demands a synergy of a team working harmoniously together to exploit the momentary weaknesses of the other side.

Long periods of time can be spent maintaining a constant strain on the rope, waiting for the other side to weaken. Such is the force on the rope it is sometimes audible with the fibres of the rope cracking under the tension.

Sheehan’s field had a big old oak tree with a fine sturdy branch sticking out at a right angle and onto this a pulley was fixed.

A 35-gallon steel barrel was filled with concrete and a system devised whereby the team of eight would pull this huge weight up into the air, holding it and increasing their strength and stamina.

After some time training, the Matehy team were ready to take on the teams from Cloghroe, Berrings and Dripsey, but they had one secret weapon.

For tug-of-war, all teams used to wear heavy, hobnailed work boots designed to get a solid foothold in the sod but the grip was never perfect.

On this one occasion, determined to quieten the cockiness of their opposition who had written them off, they welded some C-shaped steel shell-casings to the heels of their boots, allowing them to dig in with greater effect.

Teamwork

Each team is made up of eight men with the largest and often heaviest member, the anchorman, at the back.

He wraps the heavy rope around his right wrist, around his back and over the left shoulder and then back behind and clamped under his left arm. An old cushion or a piece of foam is placed between the rope and his back, such is the pressure and friction.

The team is commonly arranged in decreasing size as you move to the front, allowing a good line of sight of the opposite team.

Small as the person in the very front might be, he is vital as he has the best position to assess the moments of weakness in the opposition.

Most important of all is the ninth team-member, the coach, who is not pulling at all but who is moving up and down, coordinating and calling the shots.

He will have a host of hand signals and nods and gentle whispers of encouragement, ‘hold, hold’, ‘steady’ and then ‘heave’ and the rhythmic ‘one, two, one, two’ as the team steps back in unison.

Biggest success

On that first great competition in 1974, the wiry Matehy men easily beat their Dripsey rivals in the final and bolstered by their success they took to official competitions around the county and country.

The official rules were adhered to and along with inspected footwear, each member had to be weighed and the combined team weight had to be less than 96 stone.

Some of the lads had to run around the field a few times to make the weight.

The 40-yard-long ropes for tug-of-war were about two inches in diameter, woven from sisal, and were supplied by Irish Ropes in Newbridge, Co Kildare.

Getting a good grip on the rope was half the battle and long fingers were a definite advantage while many tug-of-war teams use their own secret formula of ‘tacky’ or rosin or a bag of chalk to stop the rope from slipping.

One of the Matehy team used to have a small bottle of poteen that he rubbed into his hands before a pull, and he was known to take a quick swig out of the same bottle to embolden his constitution.

Few, save those who live in the townland, know how to pronounce Matehy correctly – ‘maw-te-ha’ – but for the announcers at local pulls they would invariably call the team ‘Mattie’ leading to the confusion that one man called Matthew on his own was going to challenge the opposing team.

The team went from strength to strength and were rarely beaten.

One occasion that they were beaten was when the heel of the boot of one of the team came off. The loss was laughed off following a memorable quip from the coach who, paraphrasing the Slim Whitman song, remarked ‘you picked a fine time to leave me loose heel’.

The success of the Matehy team was such that they won the Munster Championship in Mourneabbey in 1976, and in 1977, they succeeded in bringing the national championships to their own hinterland to John Dilworth’s field, just off the Butter Road.

Here they competed with other local teams including the Rocks, Lions, Doneraile, Donoughmore, Tubbereen-Mire and Killmeen, while from further afield came Waterford Paper Mills, the Geese, Ivy Leaf, Ballycrocane, Half Way House, Toonbrack and Rathnew.

Cars were parked in Nicholas Sweeney’s cross field and a caravan with tea and sandwiches was provided for refreshments.

A few of the mighty tug-of-war men of Matehy featured in the accompanying photograph of 50 years ago have passed on but those still with us spoke about their great adventures and achievements with a sense of fun and pride and devilment that has written this small, often mis-pronounced, townland of Matehy into the annals of tug-of-war forever.

Shane Lehane is a folklorist who works in UCC and Cork College of FET, Tramore Road Campus. Contact: slehane@ucc.ie