In a small room at the back of a dilapidated 19th century prison, the hurling season just got busy. Nobody plays here; there are no goalposts or pitches outside, but there is a team whose involvement is an integral part of the game and has been for a quarter century.
Andy McCarthy is the coach. Relaxed and demonstrating an obvious rapport with his squad, the Cork Prison officer runs them through the drills with the kind of precision one might expect from a man with 24 years experience.
“The trick is to treat them with respect. If you come in and start growling you will get nothing done,” he says, setting a tone for something deeply analogous with the world of sport.
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The kit here is comprised of uniform black polo shirts and overalls, discipline is instilled through pride and the ethos is one of team spirit. Other inmates are eager to sign up.
“There are waiting lists,” says McCarthy matter- of-factly. “There was fellas asking me yesterday and I said it was full. [But] we are after losing a couple of fellas today on transfers and so now I can bring them in.”
The name of the game here is hurley repair. According to the Irish Prison Service (IPS), on a daily basis between 20 and 25 inmates are employed in the workshop fixing hurleys from 50 or more clubs, mostly from the greater Cork region but also from Waterford, Tipperary, Limerick, Kerry, Kildare and Dublin.
Every day during the summer months, the busiest time for hurling, between 100 and 150 are processed deftly by hand; 6,000 to 8,000 in a given year. Later, schools benefit from the service too.
Such is the success and increasing demand, it is now being expanded to Dublin’s Wheatfield Prison and possibly later to Portlaoise. It is not out of the question that one day the entire country’s GAA clubs could have dedicated repair centres run through the country’s penal system. In the US they make licence plates, in Cork they patch up hurleys.
“I would have one in Limerick, Midlands, Dublin and Castlerea to cover Connaught. So you cover the different localities. Cork is a hurley stronghold, Limerick is and Dublin is starting to get good as well,” teases McCarthy who is himself steeped in GAA activity as a senior football coach at Muskerry and selector for Cork minor football.
Heirloom
The facility officially opened in 1998 but before that prisoners had been doing some of the work – banding and splicing – for a local hurley manufacturer before it closed down.
The IPS says that, due to its being located in Cork, it “was always going to be a success” but an onus on quality was crucial.
The GAA certifies the work which is taught to prisoners in stages. The hurleys come in and are examined.
They are stripped down to find the cracks, the nails are removed and they are glued. After they set, they are sanded down, each one taking 10 to 15 minutes.
“The reason we get so much business is that we are not allowed to make a profit. So we charge a nominal €2 per hurley and it covers the costs,” says McCarthy.
“We started upstairs in a small little room and we expanded and expanded. It caught on straight away.
“If we weren’t supplying quality products we wouldn’t have kept going.
"[In the beginning] I got a hurley posted down from Wicklow. It was an heirloom back from the 1940s or something. It had to be repaired and sent back up. We had to make sure there were enough stamps; it was weird."
The workshop, located at the back of the C Wing, is a 50 square metre L-shaped room, stocked with work tables, a band saw and belt sander.
Other woodwork goes on too and the prisoners can earn accreditation from City and Guilds.
The commitment to carpentry in general is obvious, the room littered with examples of ability: a miniature roof, tables and even a stair banister are found in various corners.
“It is great for the mind; sure ’tis, better than being out in the yard,” says Dennis, a prisoner serving a 12-month sentence.
“A couple of weeks ago some hurleys came in – I think about 100 to 120 – and we had them done in two hours, bagged and done. There is a good few of us there and [we] just get stuck in.
“I was thinking of doing the hurleys in Dungarvan when I get out. We don’t want the Cork [hurleys] but we’ll take the Waterford ones.
Concerns raised
“We would be lost without the hurling shop.”
Another inmate, Jamie, serving two years, pointed to the benefit of the extra money they receive on top of their allowance: €6 on top of €12 a week.
“When I came in first I was out in the yard and [my friend] got me a job.
“I wasn’t doing anything. I was hanging around bored and he got me the job fixing hurleys,” he says.
During a recent inspection by a prison visitation committee, some concerns were raised as to what benefits were open to those leaving the prison with such specific skills. Not all are like Dennis with plans to open their own, perhaps competitive, operation.
In their report the committee said that while there was no doubt the standard of the work was high, “we believe that this training should be linked to the appropriate industry in the community which would provide work experience and hopefully employment for suitable prisoners on release”.
Munster GAA seemed unwilling to discuss the issue, although it is understood that because many clubs provide community employment schemes generally, it would be considered unfair for prisoners to jump the queue on release.
But this isn’t just about fixing hurleys. Rather it’s about giving the men a sense of structure and purpose to combat the “revolving door” concept of re-offending.
“If you got out of here and you’re straight on the dole, you’re sitting around and you have nothing to do, you will go out and drink and rob or sell drugs,” muses McCarthy who believes fervently in the importance of rehabilitation.
“We need to break that cycle. I don’t know, I really don’t know. We give them something.”
