Driving home from a dinner at Croke Park last night, I passed Mountjoy prison and twigged it.
The lights of Dalymount Park, were they still on?
Bouncing off windows and chimneys, playing peek-a-boo behind some trees.
See, this was the last Friday night under lights at Dalymount Park for a while – and the last with the iconic floodlights that have stood tall and proud since 1962. Bohemians played Shelbourne in the League of Ireland and that wrapped up about a half hour before I arrived.
Home to Bohemian Football Club, and former home to the Republic of Ireland National team.
Johnny Giles played here, Liam Brady played here, hey, even Eamon Dunphy played here.
It wasn’t a good stadium, it was a great stadium.
But it’s all to be knocked down bit by bit starting soon, and the lights will be one of the first things to go.
I wandered about outside capturing some pictures, not knowing when the button would be pressed or the plug would be pulled.
I went across the road to capture the blurs of light as traffic went by on another busy night in the capital.
Then over the road and into the stadium, still some fans hanging around.
I was rambling around photographing different angles of the towering floodlights for posterity, an iconic sight in the Dublin skyline for those who know to look for them.
The old place was quiet now.
Corner flags bundled together, a few pints abandoned
Then I bumped into Lee Grace (Bohs Lee Grace – not Rovers Lee Grace, he wanted you to know that)
He’s the match day co-ordinator at Dalymount Park and he was busy like a Bohs bee around the place.
Big bunch of keys in his hand and phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear. The lights were going off about half eleven he said, that’s the plan.
A small crowd in the stand had stayed around, pictures were taken, songs were sung, and they waited.
Closing in on half eleven and three lads made their way across the pitch. Derek Sweetman, Dalymount Park bar manager, along with many other unofficial titles, the aforementioned Lee Grace, still with the important keys in hand, and Dalymount Park legend Dermot Cassin – a man who was tended to every need and fixed every flickering bulb in the place for God-knows-how-long.
They came off the pitch, via the sideline near the dug-outs, and into the construction area in what used to be the Connaught Street Stand and down to the switchboard room, nestled in beside some old turnstiles.
Cassin composed himself before doing the honours by flicking the switches
Back out on the pitch the few fans in the stand saw the end of the Friday night lights at Dalymount Park. For now.
So that’s that then. A little bit of history.
The lights will be back at Dalyer again – but that’s another year.
Sports Photographer
Sports Writer
Proud owner of The Unpronounceable Name (pronounced Pier-iss O Me-awk)
No, I can’t put you on da Telly.
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