BIG MATT – THE HORSE REILLY

Matt galloped into Belfast on 26 September 1942. A wild spirit, happy child beloved of his Dad Matthew and Mum Kathleen, a bit of a terror adored by Geraldine, Patricia,  May, Joe, Gerard and Paddy. 

His happiest times in Belfast were up the black mountain with Joe riding horses ‘borrowed’ for the day from a local farmer who likely never even noticed their temporary absence.

A little tomfoolery at school led to Matt being educated by the Brothers for a while; after school he was always a worker keen to earn and he enjoyed spending, especially in dance halls as a teddy boy the ladies adored.  The DA haircut, crepe soled shoes and three quarter jacket suited him to a tee. His presence, humour and impact were huge and unmissable. 

Life changing decisions brought Matt to Scotland where he soon met Annie, the love of his life. At the dancing they fell in love, married and eventually returned to Belfast where in the Falls they lived with their wee family of Kate, Matt and Denis. 

In Belfast in the 60s it was impossible to thrive as a Catholic family. Council houses, jobs and electoral rights were horribly restricted. If The Horse Reilly could not overcome those hurdles, nobody could. 

Recognising that the decks were stacked against his family, and desiring better for his children, Matt persuaded Annie that Scotland held real prospects. Their first destination was the Gorbals, then Govan followed by what’s it called Cumbernauld. They were probably ran out of Govan as young Matt and his pal George O’Brien had piddling contests to see who could pee the highest up the wall.

Escapades in the new town included Matt driving home one night in a 54 seater double decker bus he managed to park up the cul-de-sac; there was Annie’s attempt to replicate the Partridge Family by acquiring a piano as Matt said he was an accomplished player. Annie polished all her bairns, dressed them up, wetted and patted down their hair before the awful admission that Matt couldn’t play a note, it was a chat up line from the silver tongued devil.

Matt and Denis became famous at wrestling and won innumerable contests of which their parents were rightly proud particularly when results were printed in the local press. They travelled the length of the UK to compete, often with Big Matt driving overnight to get them to Derby and London. There was a memorable time involving an argument about the murderous price of burgers and the tragic death of a Scotland supporter at Trafalgar

Square when Scotland football coincided with a wrestling match in Soho.

Breakfasts on the way to school from Corbiston Way comprised tins of rice or custard purloined from motorway collisions;  school shoes were lined with the Daily Record. Controversial events of attention from special forces, as Irish people got then, led to relocation to Alloa. There were arrests, detentions, discriminatory treatment and unwarranted hurt for the family.

Alloa was a fresh, successful start at Scotcash. Friends there were Abbey Cars, Alloa Bedroom Centre, Donald Davidson panel beater, Alan Scott mechanic, Jimmy Dawson the joiner and of course the staff of John Toole, Adam Scott, Nancy Davidson, Moira Campbell, Angus the steam train driver from the petrol station and many more. 

Clackmannan days saw many adventures. There was the exceptional pet sheep Matt found loitering and repatriated to Alloa for a while. Sheepy befriended the pet dug Snowy, the samoyed, who’d been liberated by Brian Connelly, Pirelli engineer. 

There was the apocryphal Christmas dinner where potatoes flew. You can take the big fella out of Ireland etc.

Matt created Scotia Cable with Adam and Nancy after John Toole died; the company flourished and long standing friendships continued to be forged. Matt retired early with health issues to be addressed. Morphine for Matt coincided with that of his neighbour in the next bed – he was a former British soldier, they fought battles up and down the ward for days on end, argued about the order from the chippie and in the end shook hands.

The best story I know of Matt is from Donegal. We were in one of his houses at Annagry and some of us including Annie were drinking whiskey. Matt had been asleep and rose to tell us there was an elephant in the garden. We all howled in disbelief until of course we learned of an escape attempt by elephants from the circus. That tickles me still. Imagine that teetotal man trying to explain to half a dozen drunk women there’s an elephant in the garden in Donegal. You can’t beat Irish craic. Nor could you beat Irish grub; a Titanic from the Lobster Pot in Burtonport was a firm favourite.

Matt loved his pigeons, birds and dogs. They loved him too. His nicknames will remain legendary forever. Don’t ask about the meaning of tarmacking the runway. His friends had loving nicknames such as Halftrack, The Butty Roll, Black Dog and for his grandchildren always Durtburd was a term of love. There were cheeky names I won’t say here but his wit was legendary like he was as a man. He made a mark and will be missed.

Matt was a valued loved and very cherished member of the AA fellowship; we took him to see Kris Kristofferson in concert ; when the lights went up hundreds came to speak to him. They recognised a fellow traveller and hero who’d saved numerous lives and souls.

Rest in eternal peace Matt, a giant amongst men. When the lights go up, you’re in the vanguard.