LONG READ 'I feared no opposition. I feared letting Axel down.' – Remembering a legend on a special anniversary

On Monday, October 14^th, in Killaloe, the extended Foley family and friends gathered for an anniversary mass. It was a day ahead of the actual 8^th anniversary but Brendan Foley was heading over to South Africa and this was the closest date to assemble the full tribe.

Today, October 16^th, marks the eighth anniversary of Anthony Foley’s tragic passing. Aged only 42, and then coach at Munster, Foley went to sleep in Paris, the night before a Champions Cup game against Racing 92, and never woke up.

Foley, a legend of Shannon, Munster and Irish rugby, died of cardiomyopathy (heart muscle disorder) and his untimely passing sent the sport, several communities, families and teams reeling. Such was the legacy of ‘Axel’ that rival provinces and teams from England, Scotland, Wales, France, Italy and New Zealand all paid poignant tributes to the late, great No 8.

In the years since his death, Foley has been remembered through a stirring documentary, a top-selling single, two popular theatrical productions, and his sisters’ inspirational fundraising drive. Ireland have twice brought out a figure ‘8’ formation, honouring his memory, before games against New Zealand.

Conscious that this poignant, eighth anniversary was approaching, I spoke with Orla Foley, his sister, and Donncha O’Callaghan, his former teammate at Munster and Ireland.

‘I really hope his kids know that their dad was Superman’

“We still speak about Axel, all the time. I was up at Cork Con, last night, and Frankie Sheahan was telling a class story that involved Axel and Peter Clohessy”, smiles O’Callaghan. “We don’t see each other as much as we like – life can be busy – but I was at another event recently and was lucky to get chatting to his dad, Brendan, and his sister. I think it goes back to that sense of community, and Axel had so many roles within that. To me, Axel will always be my captain. I look at him and see a skipper, but there’s a generation, a little below me, that would see him as their coach. The Peter O’Mahonys and Conor Murrays. Then you have the Peter Clohessys and Mick Galweys, and they’d see him like a brother. He was the guy in the trenches with them.

“There’s so many different dynamics that he tipped in and out of, but the main one was that he was a dad. That’s the ultimate, family. That is obviously where we all feel the greatest loss. In that aspiration we all have to be a deadly person, he had it. I look at his kids, Tony and Dan, and I really just hope they know that their dad was Superman.

“Axel had an amazing ability of making you better. Pushing your standards. And he never, ever, ever compromised. And if you didn’t keep those standards, he would go through ya. I feared no opposition. I feared letting him down.

“He’s someone you think of, every day. There’s a few more that you think of, like that, and honestly, I know this sounds corny but I was so fucking grateful I was lucky enough to be around a person like him. That I got to be around an environment where he got to shape me, a little.

“I always think of Olive (Anthony’s wife) and the two lads. Whatever about us losing an incredible teammate, for them to lose their dad and their loved husband is the most difficult. That’s what hurts more. It may sound nuts, but we can shoulder not having a skipper but for those kids not to have a brilliant man like him around, it’s tough. It does put an onus on the rest of us to let them know, when we can, that he was something special.

“That’s why his passing left such a ripple. Not just here but across world rugby. And it should have. He was a beautiful, incredible man.”

‘I’ve never experienced grief and sorrow and pain like that’

“Hearing that news (of Anthony’s passing) what the last thing you would expect,” says Orla Foley wistfully. “When we got the news, I thought it was a mix-up because my dad was in Paris, as well, for that match. He would have been the more likely age (66), and Anthony had been screened when my uncle had died, a few years previous. We wouldn’t have suspected anything. He was so fit and healthy, so vibrant. He was giving 100% to life so it was beyond words that he would die, in his sleep.

“You just never know. There are so many variables in life. What I do know is this was part of Anthony’s path. He died on my granny’s anniversary, on October 16^th, and I knew straight away, when I realised the date, that she would have come for him. I really felt that. Even though I was in so much shock, and was so upset, I knew that was his time. That was a sign for me – that it may not be what you expect but it is how it is meant to be.

“Everything that happened after that day, in those weeks that followed with people reaching out and dropping by, it was the most grief-filled moments of my life – I’ve never experienced grief and sorrow and pain like that – but it was also beautiful and magical and spiritual. Every person came in with a purpose, every person worked together in getting Anthony home from Paris, and honouring his memory.

“I remember saying to the physio at Munster, ‘Mind those players, tomorrow’. I couldn’t believe they were going to take to the pitch (against Glasgow Warriors) the day after going to his funeral. I couldn’t believe how they found the strength. And the manner in which they did play, and win, with being a man down, was incredible. And what I really loved was the manner in which they minded my nephews, Tony and Dan. They took them out on the pitch and created such a magical moment, as they all sang together, to remember their father. Even though it was such a grief-filled week – and life does have grief – the boys got to see the magic of community and of spirit.

“To this day, everywhere you go at home, you see the pictures. Anthony had an amazing relationship with his boys. They used to have ‘Boys Night’, once a week. They’d great fun playing together, they used to come to matches and Anthony was a very hands-on father, even though he had a lot on with his job. He really had quality time with them. To this day, all his friends and former players have kept that memory alive. CJ Stander has regularly visited with the boys, and kept that connection. We talk about him all the time. He’s in our thoughts and conversations. When we talk about Anthony, we hear these songs and see these plays about him, it’s a great testament to his spirit and how much he meant to so many people.

“My dad would have always reared us to do voluntary work. My first memory of fundraising was dad cycling the lake (Lough Derg), when we were kids. Then there were charity legends games. There was always charity in our worlds. As I grew older and studied positive psychology, I learned how charitable deeds actually make you feel well. Very suddenly after Anthony died, I realised how lucky I was to have him for 42 years. He nearly died, three times, when he was young. So, my life would have been very different if my brother had died at four, eight or 12 – he drank some weed-killer when he was four, and the other two close calls were from viral and bacterial meningitis.

“With all those extra years, amazing friends and this amazing life he led – that rugby journey, meeting Olive and having the two boys – I just thought I had to celebrate the life I had with him. All those beautiful memories, our friendships and loves. So I started off to fundraise for some of those charities that were close to Anthony and that helped us after his passing. Our sister Rosie, has been fantastic here, too – taking on some tough swimming challenges to raise money and awareness. I cycled the Camino in 2017, a few months after he died. I found that very cathartic and I was crying a lot on the bike, during it. But, at the end of the journey, I had left a lot of my grief on the road. I learned to walk with grief. That was the start.”

To date, Orla Foley’s fundraiser Orla’s Wild Ways – which goes towards The Mid-Western Cancer Foundation, IRFU Charitable Trust and CRY (Cardiac Risk in the Young) – has raised more than €38,000.