On the morning of March 27th, 2004, after concluding his morning tasks, Ian McCall settled down to enjoy Ireland’s Six Nations Championship Triple Crown match against Scotland. His tranquillity was shattered about 20 minutes into the game when his phone began to ring. The voice on the other end was unfamiliar; it was Philip Browne’s, Chief Executive of the IRFU. He rushed to tell Ian, “We have lost John.” After expressing his confusion, Ian soon learnt the dreadful truth. Browne responded to his question with the heartbreaking news, “John succumbed on the pitch in Durban, I convey my deep sympathies.”
John McCall, the middle child of Ian and Carolyn, had siblings Rebecca and James. He tragically passed away during the initial half of Ireland’s U-19 World Cup inaugural match against New Zealand. John had collapsed after winning a lineout and heading into a ruck, and despite the efforts of his teammates and medics, never moved again. Initial suspicions pointed towards a broken neck prompting the medical team to secure his neck with a brace before they removed him from the field.
Completely unaware of the devastating reality, the Irish players finished the match. They were only informed afterwards of their teammate’s tragic passing, caused by viral cardiomyopathy. The shaken Irish squad decided to pull out of the tournament following the tragedy.
Just a fortnight earlier, a robust and promising 18-year-old John McCall had proudly led Royal School Armagh to victory in the Ulster Schools Senior Cup, a title last won 27 years ago, under the leadership of his Uncle Brian, a notable ex-Irish rugby player who clinched a Triple Crown with Ireland in 1985.
This tragic incident was the second one to hit the local sporting community in rapid succession. Cormac McAnallen (24), the captain of Tyrone Gaelic football team, died in his sleep earlier that month, further impacting the community and deepening the bond of grief and friendship between the two mourning families.
“Ian recounted, “I can still visualise John and I watching the television, tea mugs in our possession, as the news about McAnallen reached us. John stated: ‘Dad, I recognise him. He’s a Benburb lad,’ a town just a short distance away. Upon asking how John knew this, he revealed they both shared a gym.”. Ian’s memory of Carolyn joining them and cautioning John about the unpredictability of life remains clear. She said, “Son, that’s how abruptly one can meet death. A blossoming life snuffed out without warning, John. This could happen to you. I do hope you’re prepared,” hinting subtly about faith. To this, John replied calmly, “I am, Mum.” A conversation that would later carry painful significance just three weeks onwards.
John McCall was a flame-headed, solid and tenacious presence on the rugby field, a born leader who rallied others around him, particularly the shy, using his charismatic personality. Conversations with his father, also a rugby forward, helped him delve into the intricacies of the game and frame different game tactics.
The young lad showed great eagerness to learn about rugby, absorbing its detailed aspects, always ready to engage in discussions about it to anyone interested. Despite his stern and unyielding attitude on the field, he possessed a playful nature outside of it. He was an exceptional rugby player who had amassed several accolades though just a teenager, which included leading Ulster to win an interprovincial school’s championship.
Ian, who once captained the City of Armagh RFC’s first team, hung up his rugby boots a decade back, when he was 57. The sport, according to him, gave him invaluable things including enduring friendships and moral lessons, and a chance for the son of a farmer to prove his physical prowess. With a sip of the first beer, any uneasy feelings were soothed, reflecting the old school ethics and ideals.”
It was rather straightforward to identify John’s son on the field due to his remarkable red hair. In the summer of 2003, during a school tour to South Africa, the local kids were intrigued by his unique hair colour. They were even rubbing their hands in his hair out of sheer curiosity.
John was not just passionate about rugby. He also demonstrated quite an interest in home life, joyously indulging in his mother’s cooking. Apart from these, he also excelled in a relatively less aggressive pursuit, art. As per Ian, his art was truly extraordinary. For instance, he created a vivid and colour-drenched piece featuring two toucans looking at each other. This particular piece is now a stained-glass window in the art department of Royal School, Armagh.
Moreover, he sculpted a ten-foot high Celtic Cross out of clay, demonstrating his gentle yet deft touch in art. During trips to the Ireland under-19s training, his friend, Stuart Megaw, said they would halt at a graveyard close to Monasterboice. This detour was mainly due to a structure in the graveyard that inspired John’s Celtic Cross, enabling him to sketch and measure it.
John, who had a knack for stirring up mischief, as his father charmingly admits, was all set for a career in architecture at Queen’s University. “We couldn’t draw a straight line, but John had the gift,” his father added, suggesting that their son’s artistic talent emerged from a young age when he would enjoy sketching cartoon characters.
John’s cheeky personality was confirmed by a story his father told of how he got gently warned in Durban for procuring a catapult and causing minor discomfort to the boys when they went to the beach together.
Ian narrated: “Our household expanded from a pair of adults and a trio of children to five grown-ups at that point. It was a joyful period. Life consists of various phases. Our weekly ritual involved having tea every Friday evening, and the amiable banter was always enjoyable. Rebecca, aged 20, attended the University of Newcastle while James, 16-years-old, was a senior at the Royal School Armagh.”
The family marked the victory of the Schools Cup on a Tuesday. Subsequently, on Thursday, John jetted to Dublin, poised for his trip to South Africa. The father-son duo could not engage in their customary post-match chat. Ian added, “John’s demise drastically reshaped our lives. We were previously travelling in one direction, but his death brought us to a crossroad that led us on a different path. We, like any parent, anticipated the future decisions of our children without trying to influence them directly.”
“Our journey was interrupted by John’s passing on the 27th of March. We were then compelled to navigate the winding and complex path of life. We soon realised the profound difficulty of burying a child. Even our faith could not ease the natural wrongness of this event,” said Ian.
“We had deep faith but were not devout. Our faith did not diminish the pain of our loss, did not render us invulnerable. Grief entailed numerous questions and intense anger. As Carolyn, James and I said to Rebecca, ‘the scale of the grief is a testament to the love we had’. Our son John was gone but Rebecca, James and we had to manage their mourning process. It was also crucial not to idolise John,” he shared.
In the very early hours of a Sunday, Ian’s father, John, fondly known as Jack, a man of the soil and a son of the same profession, showed up on his doorstep. Jack, who was named after his paternal grandfather, was a product of a tumultuous relationship with his own father, stemming from his decision to join the military in 1939. This decision took him to various parts of the world, including France, Dunkirk, and a lengthy six-year spell in Burma.
During 1941, he had spent six weeks in Durban as part of a troop convoy. Ian had once questioned his father, wondering had he been told his grandson would lose his life in this same city more than six decades later, would he have believed it.
In a heart-wrenching moment, his father, aged 85, had handed him £500 in cash, shedding tears that Ian had never seen before. John was puzzled why he and Ian’s mother, Peggy, were still alive, while their grandson was not. It became more apparent to Ian the extreme difficulty they were experiencing, that they somewhat wished it had been them instead.
Departing for Belfast at half past three in the morning, Ian set off for his journey to South Africa. Upon his arrival in Durban on the Monday morning, he proceeded to the local police station to officially identify his son’s body before he was presented to him on a gurney covered by a white sheet, clad in his sports gear.
He remembered explaining to his friend, Sam Wilson, that John’s soul had departed his body after noticing his pupils were greatly minimised. He mused about the many deaths he had witnessed, including his parents’ and close friends’, but never had such a thought crossed his mind.
Following this, Ian attended a barbecue organised by several premier rugby clubs such as Durban Collegians, situated behind Kings Park. The entire Ireland squad and management were also present to welcome him. Reflecting on the scenario, Stephen Ferris later wrote in his autobiography how everyone was deeply moved by Ian’s kind words and the way he put others’ emotions ahead of his own.
John’s father confessed he prayed not to make a fool of himself throughout all this. He was in constant communication with Carolyn every evening, as her major worry became when they’d bring home their son, John. The return journey commenced last Friday.
The vigil held at the family residence attracted hordes, as did the service at Armagh’s Mall Presbyterian Church. The funeral pulled in attendees from all walks of life, with the audience from the rugby fraternity hailing from various parts of the globe, mingling with the local mourners. The ceremony was also broadcast to an adjoining church and two halls to accommodate the large crowd wishing to honour John.
Ian McCall, when tasked with delivering the eulogy, didn’t know what sentiments he’d express until a few moments before he took the platform. He turned to prayer, asking for divine inspiration and was granted the words he needed. He eulogised about John as a rugby player, and as a person, drawing also attention to John’s faith.
Following his death, the postmortem report stated that John had succumbed to viral cardiomyopathy, a silent killer that showed no signs – no fatigue, no grogginess. The heart muscle gradually enlarged until it eventually ceased to beat. Ian sanctioned for his son’s heart tissue samples to be used for future medical research.
Medical screening of the family indicated no hereditary links to the death. For close to 20 years, the family had been collaborating with CRY charity to raise awareness about heart defects. They also developed a close relationship with the McAnallens, the founders of the Cormac Trust.
Ian reminisced about a conversation with the late Brendan McAnallen, Cormac’s father, highlighting their shared desire to halt the world for Cormac and John. However, he acknowledged that it was not realistic or desirable. Their collective goal was, and still is, to propagate awareness.
Ian praised the exceptional work of the McAnallens, installing defibrillators across schools and clubs throughout Ireland. He hoped their initiative of organizing heart health screenings in schools had also played a part. The world is much more alerted today, he noted, alluding to Manchester United and Denmark footballer, Christian Eriksen’s case.
David, who is related to Carolyn through her sister, was diagnosed with a heart condition known as Wolff Parkinson White. A repair was conducted on the node that manages electrics in the heart. The physicians affirmed that without a diagnosis, the scenario could have been significantly different. Today, David is an Irish Schools sprinter and plays rugby on the wing for Armagh.
Ian frequently journeys to console parents grieving the unexpected cardiac loss of their child, offering what help he can. He knows this agony firsthand, making his empathy genuine.
Ian discussed his son’s demise, which was a public event, in contrast to others’ losses, which were usually local coverage. This discrepancy has left him with feelings of guilt, as the intensity of love and grief are the same, regardless of publicity. He spoke of the challenge of loss, the passage of time, and the return of routine life events without the presence of the lost loved one as well as the repeating cycle of anniversaries, but took solace in the hope of reunion.
Ian and Carolyn enjoy the company of their twelve grandchildren. They also find comfort in their children, expressing gratitude that their daughter Rebecca lives in Armagh and their son James works with Ian. Rebecca is a teacher, although her career often takes a backseat due to her eight children.
Rugby remains a significant part of Ian’s life; he frequently watches Ulster and Ireland, often from his armchair, while enjoying a cup of tea. In the case of City of Armagh, however, he is always on the sidelines, seeing echoes of his son in others, particularly Peter O’Mahony.
John was noted for his physical style of play and intolerance for any fooling around on the football pitch. The echoes of his style can be seen in current Irish captain’s game and equally, he seems to emulate John. When considering John’s contemporaries and how their careers have developed, parallels to John’s game are evident.
The suggestion to commemorate John by dedicating a cup in his name was kindly declined by the family. They felt it was not the right tribute for them. However, when given the opportunity, Carolyn did agree to award the under-19 World Cup trophy to New Zealand during the tournament in Belfast.
Two decades later, the absence of John is still profoundly felt by the family. Ian elucidated, “The difficulty never seems to fade. John’s absence is deeply felt, we often find ourselves reminiscing about him. We adore hearing others speak about John. For us, it is heartening to know that even after all these years, people still remember John. Our recollections of John unfortunately only span to his 18 years, but his palpable absence remains. He continues to be greatly loved and missed.”