Suddenly, from a standing start, DJ Carey jinked to his right and slipped into the empty space.
But instead of facing the uprights, he was in front of a judge, about to rifle over a string of guilty pleas from inside the dock.
Had it really come to this?
One of the finest hurlers the game has ever produced, the former Kilkenny forward dazzled for almost two decades with his sporting brilliance. He captivated crowds with his speed, skill and unerring eye.
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A multiple All-Ireland medal winner, much garlanded GAA All Star and dashing role model for youngsters, this nice, unassuming hero ended a long inter-county career secure in his legacy.
A smooth pivot to the business world was the obvious progression.
Naturally, he prospered in Celtic Tiger Ireland, his relationship with a millionaire businesswoman and their jet-set lifestyle chronicled in the social pages of the glossy mags and newspapers.
DJ had it all.
DJ was a star.
It’s all gone now, his life reduced to a squalid tale of deception.
A hero who went from scoring goals to scoring money from kind people by pretending he needed help to pay for his cancer treatment.
On Wednesday morning, the extent of DJ Carey’s fall from grace was laid bare at a busy sitting of Dublin Circuit Criminal Court. He was hardly noticed in this clearing house of crime and punishment as the judge briskly worked her way through the day’s criminal list.
Only the presence of a large number of journalists in court number seven indicated that something out of the ordinary was happening.
Earlier, photographers and camera crews waited on the steps of the Criminal Courts of Justice for Carey to arrive. The 54-year-old was expected to stand trial on deception charges.
But with this fraud merchant, who knows?
When it came to the crunch, DJ chose not to fight the case.
He was spotted walking in the vicinity of the building before proceedings began, as if looking for an entrance, talking on the phone. Finally, at the last minute, he walked quickly past the cameras and through the main doors.
After briefly consulting with his legal team, he sat alone on a side-facing wooden bench next to the dock. He hadn’t long to wait for his case to be called.
“Denis Carey.”
People have their own worries and their own business to conduct in this place. Few paid attention to just another defendant, the bald man in the dark suit, smoothly moving over from his seat to the stand.
This scheming sporting hero once staged a ludicrous photo of himself lying in bed looking pathetic, apparently at death’s door
But the reporters snapped to attention.
The court was told a jury wasn’t needed.
There would be no trial.
The defendant stood with his arms down and hands clasped together, like a player in a defensive wall bracing for a free kick.
The court registrar read out the charges.
“Guilty,” replied Carey, quietly. And to the next one. And the next. Ten times in all. (With 10 more charges taken into account)
Guilty to faking cancer and dishonestly inducing people to give him money towards his imaginary treatment. Guilty to deceiving decent individuals who wanted to help a national sporting icon through a devastating illness.
One word stood out when defence counsel Colman Cody SC asked Judge Ryan to extend legal aid for his client who has “certain mental health issues” and is under medical care.
He said while the charges admitted involve fraudulent cancer claims, Carey has ongoing health issues which are “genuine” and significant and he had heart surgery last year.
It is not unusual to hear such a serious procedure described as “significant”. But it is most uncommon to hear a heart operation classified as “genuine”.
That this even needed to be said pointed up the callousness of Carey’s crimes.
But then, this scheming sporting hero once staged a ludicrous photo of himself lying in bed looking pathetic, apparently at death’s door, a white phone charging cable dangling like a drip from his nasal cavity and a strip of tape across his face supposedly keeping it in place.
DJ Carey will be sentenced at the end of October.
After his unexpectedly brief appearance, he spent a while talking to his legal team before walking briskly from the building with a posse of reporters, photographers and a documentary film crew in tow.
They struggled to keep up as he marched up the incline of Infirmary Road, ignoring their shouted questions.
He swiftly rounded the corner to Montpelier Hill and the pack gave up the chase.
“That’s an inter-county player for you,” said an onlooker to her friend.
There was a time when action pictures of DJ Carey appeared on the back pages of newspapers, for all the right reasons.
Not any more.
He is front page fodder now – and for all the wrong ones.
