THAT mighty Celt, Sean Fallon, died overnight in his 91st year. May he rest in peace.
A stalwart of the topsy-turvy nineteen-fifties, a decade in which Celtic accrued some of its most memorable and historic moments while underachieving miserably in relation to the talent at the club at that time, “The Iron Man” went on to help steer the Hoops to arguably their finest epoch.
As Jock Stein’s assistant (and deputy during his enforced leave of absence following a near-fatal car crash), Sean shared richly in the golden era that peaked in Lisbon, along the way being instrumental in the signing of some of our greatest ever players.
All us Celtic-minded owe him a massive debt of gratitude – this is our own tribute, the best way we know:
The Iron Man
Cast iron will … heart solid gold;
cold steel in Celtic teams of old;
the mettle to inspire, inflame –
bold Sean was rough and tough and game.
Thick treacle brogue … rich, lush black hair;
the hooded brows, the jaw set square;
a man for whom you’d walk through walls –
in Walfrid’s cause he gave his all.
Atlantic rollers held no fears;
the Sligo captain awed his peers;
cajoling, made them winners thus –
and swam against the tide for us.
Lieutenant to the mighty Stein;
co-stalwarts … soul-mates … our dream team;
to peaks they led us, nonpareil –
their Celtic’s stock, an all-time high.
A heart once fierce at last is stilled;
a heart that drove, a heart that thrilled;
a humble soul … at peace, we pray –
a template for the Celtic Way.
Copyright 25thMay1967, January 2013