On a bleak April day with the rain cascading down, we laid Denis Lynch on the slope of Kilmore Hill overlooking Valentia harbour. Then, silently, the large crowd who had attended the funeral of a well-loved friend and neighbour, melted away. Three days earlier he had dropped dead while going about the mowing of his lawn in Chapeltown. The trauma of that dreadful event left a deep sense of shock and disbelief because he was so full of life and seemed set to enjoy a long and happy retirement. Sadly, it was not to be. After roughly 50 years spent in Dublin where he became a pillar of his local community in Inchicore, Den's only concession to city life and city ways was a slight hint of a Dublin accent. In every other respect he was a Kerryman and, more particularly, a Valentia man, through and through. He came from the seed and breed of footballers, being a nephew of the immortal Jack Murphy of Ballycarbery, Cahersiveen, who is reputed to have rolled back the Kildare tide almost single-handed in the 1926 drawn All-Ireland final before dying of pneumonia just days after Kerry won the replay. The sporting tradition continued through his six nephews, the Lyne brothers and Joe Lynch, all noted footballers and oarsmen of more recent vintage. With such a family pedigree it was no surprise that the small dark man with the bulging muscles would go on to become an outstanding footballer and his was the first name on our shopping list when we sought out good men who would help in our quest to win the South Kerry championship. He played his club football with Dublin Clan na nGael, but we didn't worry about the niceties of his legality. He was one of our own and that was enough. He was very much part of the successful years that followed but, more than that, he was a vital linkman in collecting others off the Holyhead boat and bringing them home for important games. His good nature was such that, on one occasion, he even brought one of the opposing team, Padraig Sullivan of Renard, along with him. We could have done without that kind of benevolence but Den's nobility of spirit was such that he never thought along narrow, one-dimensional lines. As club secretary, I worried when himself and two of the cross-channel travellers, Tadhg and Patsy Murphy, who were known to enjoy an occasional drink, adjourned to be Royal Hotel for a glass of porter after arrival on the eve of a vital game. With a lot of trepidation I sidled up to Den and said: "Go easy on that stuff. We want to win this thing tomorrow." His response was: "That's the first today - and badly wanted." The real celebration started after we won the match. He started out in life with modest credentials. A national school education left him with no delusion of grandeur. He didn't have the ear of any publican when he got a job as a helped on a Dublin bread van but from there he progressed to become a wealthy and successful businessman in later life. His good nature was legendary. Along with his equally generous wife, Teresa, he kept an "open house" for anybody who needed a night's lodging or a good meal. It will never be known how many people, some young and vulnerable who were fed from that house with no thought of recompense. If you were in trouble Den Lynch would be the first man to your side. He will be greatly missed. His joviality, good honour and diplomacy which were ideally suited to his role as steward in Croke Park for many years, found expression in the innumerable good deeds by which he is most fondly remembered. He was a true humanitarian who lived out the christian message every facet of his daily life. To Teresa, David, Austin, Maire, Eilish, sister Alice, brother Mick and the extended family, sincere sympathy is extended. Slán leat a chara dhil. In iothlann Dé go gcastar sinn. - courtesy of the Kerryman April 2002 Tweet

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