William

I know this is supposed to be a blog about fly fishing and clay shooting, but after events yesterday evening, there will be a slight change of topic today.

Anyone who knows me will know I love my Motorcycle Road Racing.  I know absolutly nothing about motorbikes.  I don't care about what makes a motorbike work.  The mechanics of motor bikes, or cars for that matter, are of no interest to me whatsoever.  My passion is for those who choose to sit on one and race them round a closed public road at alarming speeds.

Yes, I have my favourite riders that I like to see winning but I have the same respect for the guy riding in the support races at national level as I do for the guy winning the Isle of Man TT.  They are a different breed of people, every one of them, and I hold each and every one of them in a regard higher than any other sports person, or indeed any person, on the planet.

I will put on my TV today and see Johnny Rae riding in World Superbikes and then the British Superbike riders will take to the Knockhill Circuit in Scotland.  It will be on, maybe for a bit of background noise, but I can't say that I'll be interested in it.  If I'm absolutly honest, I'll find it a bit tedious and boring.

There is no other sport I know with such amazing highs and such gut wrenching, cruel, lows.  Unfortunately, the news that came out yesterday evening was most certainly the latter.

William Dunlop killed at Skerries.

Five words that completely knocked me sideways.  Knocked the stuffing out of me.  I never spoke to the man or had any interaction with him whatsoever and it felt like I'd lost a family member.  I can't even begin to think what his poor family must be feeling.  My heart goes out to them.

Growing up in Northern Ireland, even if you had no interest in motorbikes, you knew the name Dunlop.  Especially Joey Dunlop.  The five times World Champion was a name on everyone's lips.  Even as a kid, when you rode your BMX down a steep hill and paddled like mad to get it going as fast as you could, you were Joey Dunlop.  I remember falling off my bike as a child and busting my face, tearing my clothes and having bloody knees from trying to lean my BMX into a corner without turning the handle bars.  When my dad asked me what happened I said, through blood, snot and tears, that I was trying to do a Joey Dunlop.

Joey and his brother Robert were absolute heroes in this country.  In such a divided society were people were dying almost on a daily basis in sectarian violence, the Dunlops bridged that divide.  Protestant/Catholic or any other religion, no one had a bad word to say about the Dunlops.  They were held in such high regard by all of Northern Ireland and many millions of people right around the world.  The word Legends doesn't begin to do them justice.

I remember it being a Sunday, 2nd July 2000, when the news came on the TV that Joey had been killed in Estonia.  I think the whole country stopped that day. It certainly felt like it. I remember the funeral on the TV and seeing the thousands who attended.  It was hard to believe the crowds of people that were there.  Such was the level that Joey was held at.

It was 8 years later the Robert would also pay the ultimate sacrifice for the sport he loved.  Having fought and battled back from a horrendous accident on the Isle on Man in 1994, when his rear wheel disintegrated at high speed and he was thrown against a stone wall,  to getting back on a bike at the North West 200 just four years later only to have another accident, through no fault of his own, and be out for months again.  He had fought back once again.

It was the 15th May 2008.  A really cold evening it was too. I was standing in the field at the 'Magic Roundabout' on the North West 200 course watching the practice sessions.  It was the first lap of the 250 qualifying session. I remember the commentary on the tannoy. "...let's get out to Ballysally Roundabout where Robert Dunlop should be first on the road...". The bikes had already passed by the time the commentator spoke at the Roundabout but it was Richard Burns who was leading on the road with Robert second.  The commentator hadn't said two words in response when the red flags went out.  Practice session stopped. Robert had been killed.

The two Dunlop brothers were gone.  The whole country was stunned. 

The North West 200 went ahead the following Saturday and the 250 race was the first race of the day.  The race Robert had lost his life qualifying for.  I was going to play cricket that day so wasn't at the event but I had the radio on in the house before I left.  I couldn't believe what I was hearing when they said Robert's sons, William and Michael, were taking part in the race.  Unfortunately, William's bike broke down on the warm up lap but Michael went on to win the race.  I was in absolute tears in the house listening to it and I haven't been able to watch the pictures of that race since with a dry eye.  It was amazing and heartbreaking all at the same time.  The very next day the two boys would bury their father.

So, the revered Dunlop name lived on.  It is 10 years since we lost Robert but a new generation has grown up following the name Dunlop.  A whole new army of fans going to races just to see William and Michael.

It could be said that Michael, the younger of the two, has been the most successful having notched up 18 wins at the Isle of Man TT as well as wins at the North West 200 and Ulster Grand Prix.  In saying that,  I think William was held in as high a regard as his brother.  William was extremely successful on his own with over 100 wins at National Road Racing level.  At the different events, walking around the paddock, there were as many fans outside William's awning as Michael's.  They were Dunlops, that was the thing.

Michael comes across as a completely different person to William.  William came across as a shy person not seeking the limelight  where as Michael comes across as a bit of a 'lad'.  The truth is that both of them hated the spotlight.  If either of them never had to speak in front of a TV camera or do an interview, that would suit them fine.

The news broke yesterday evening that William had lost his life at Skerries in Co. Dublin.  I don't mind saying it.  I cried like child yesterday evening.

I don't know the Dunlop family at all but my thoughts went out the family.  William's mother buried her husband and now has to arrange to have her son buried.  Michael and Daniel buried their father and now have to bury their brother.  It was William's Granny I really felt for.  Having buried two sons and now having to watch her grandson being buried.  And then there's William's partner.  William was a father to a young infant of a child.  His partner is expecting their second.  Two wee babies growing up without their father.  It would bring tears to a stone.  I can't even begin to fathom what the whole family must be going through. 

So now we wait for another funeral.  Another young man taken far too soon.  Another Dunlop taken from us.  No doubt it will be another massive funeral with the tens of thousands of fans wanting to play their respects. 

God love that poor family as they try to come to terms with things over the weeks and months ahead.