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Long before SkySports or Match of the Day came around, I'd run down Collins Avenue to O'Reilly's newsagents at the 17s, just below the Whitehall Grand for my copy of Goal or Shoot on a Saturday morning.

You'd read about the top players in the Championship and the big managers at the time - you'd get the league table and you'd adjust your Goal Ladders and make up the new league table. You'd immerse yourself and soak it all up. It was a weekly fix

For me, Larry Madden was Matt Busby, Don Revie, Bertie Mee, Bill Shankley, Bill Nicholson and Jock Stein all rolled into one.

I'd only ever see pics of these guys from cross channel, but with Lar you were living and breathing and learning in his company.

He always made sense and always said the right thing, and to me, he was as good as anyone I'd hear or read about - and it always fun and he was always smiling, always!

Growing up in the 60s, Ellenfield Park, the Plots, was our field of dreams and it was the magnet that attracted kids from Whitehall, Larkhill, Santry, Beaumont and Ellenfield itself.

There were other exotic locations like Brookville, Celtic Park and Turnapin but to tell the truth, I didn't know where they were. My mother once drew a map to show me how to get home from Kitty's Hardware on Shantalla Road - that's how worldly I was.

Truth was I thought the Wild West was up around Ballymun because I'd worked that bit out because the sun always set at the top of the road and long before Collins Avenue Extension was built, I was convinced there were Indians, coyotes, snakes and varmints, across the fields in what is actually Ballymun and Finglas. Hank Haney and Green Acres were just over the horizon too!

As a ten year old I took a chance one evening and sidled up to this tall lanky rake who was overseeing a training session in the shadow of the Church of the Holy Child. I simply asked him if I could join and without a moment!s hesitation he asked me my name and told me to join in the game. And he piped up, "I'm Larry."

That was my introduction to Lar Madden and the wonderful world that was St Kevin's Boys.

What I didn't know was the team I'd hooked up with was an under 12 side, but I was only just turned 10. Still, it wasn't an issue for Lar and it certainly wasn't an issue for me.

I was now part of the SKBs and it was a great new chapter in the life of a 10 year old.

To tell you the truth, I can't recall signing any form, but that was not a worry at all to me and something I wasn't aware of. Being part of a team and joining in the training was a real thrill, and, they played matches for real too.

Lar always had words of encouragement and explanation about what part of the foot to hit the ball with and one of his earliest lessons was how to lace up a football boot properly. Having the laces flattened on the striking part helped with accuracy and I simply lapped it all up. That lesson stood by me for over 40 years and was passed on to many a player in the decades that followed.

Lar worked up in Dublin airport and even though I didn't know exactly where in the airport, it was exotic and to my mind, he had to be mixing with pilots and all those wealthy people who could afford to fly in the 60s - he was as close to James Bond or Get Smart as you could get in my books.

He was a legend but you never told him that and he'd of simply laughed off your innocence if you said as much.

Laughter and smiling were such a constant presence of those days with Lar. I never heard him bad mouth anyone, never heard him ball a player out, never heard him use bad language, never ever saw him without a smile on his face. He was simply an all-round good guy.

He was the face of St Kevins Boys and even though you knew Maurice Coffey and Fr Williams were the head honchos and the club holy Joes, it was Lar you deferred to. It was he who gave you the instructions and it was he who you'd give your absolute attention to.

Truth was I really enjoyed the training and my new found friends .....good guys and good players. Guys like Peter 'Slim' Molumby, Jimmy McGrath and skipper Steffo Walsh and then there was the impish wing wizard Billy McCormack our very own version of Jimmy Johnstone ...guys who could play and from my point of view guys you could learn from. It was a brilliant new time and I was only starting and the journey ahead in football and in life seemed so much rosier.

There were no complicated coaching sessions with Larry. It was warm up, ball work and perhaps a few sprints to finish with. But there was always advice and encouragement on how to improve your technique and areas of weakness to improve your game. It was always constructive and he'd always have a word to tell you when he noticed improvement along the way.

Back then the tangerine jersey used have a tiny number of the back and if you had a regular number you could go into Elvery's in Lower Abbey Street and have one ironed onto to you black Knicks. But that was if you had a number and it was a step up in the game that I'd simply have to wait for as I learned my trade under Lar.

The week's became months and the training continued and Lar always had words of encouragement, but there was no long awaited debut on my part.

I was beginning to wonder if the day would ever come but Lar had me in his plans and my apprenticeship was about to have a dramatic turn for the better.

We're playing up the Phoenix Park on a schoolboy pitch, adjacent to the 15 Acres changing rooms. I'm pretty sure it was Bulfin United, and, as he named the team, my name is included as a sub. It was a seminal moment in my fledgling career. I'd arrived or so I thought.

I'm thrown a jersey as I scramble to contain my 10 year-old nerves. What'll I do if he sends me on?

I'm seriously racked with stomach pains and I question if this was all a good idea in the first place?

Then just before we're about to head onto the pitch, Steffo Walsh, our illustrious and talented skipper, pipes up with an utterly profound question to Lar.

Will we wear our jersies in or out"?, stumps up Steffo.

"Wow," I said to myself. "This really is serious and I'd of never thought of that in a million years....but the more I pondered his question I began to appreciate that this might have a serious bearing on the outcome of the match?

Lar creases into a smile as several elongated furrows of skin reveal themselves left and right of his mouth and his eyes narrow to being nearly closed.

There seemed like an eternity before he says with perfect sense:

"You can wear it in, but if you're comfortable with it out, that's OK too." Genius I say to myself as we bound down the couple of riketey steps and out onto the pitch to warm-up.

It's late in the game and for some reason we're trailing 2-1, despite lots of domination.

Lar turns to me and says 'Warm-up Eamon, you're going-on."

Looking back now, I'd gladly admit that perhaps it was more desperation than inspiration on Larry's part, but hey, everyone's gotta start somewhere.

Those few minutes are a distant blur, but I make my debut for the SKBs 12B with just a few minutes left to play and I'm just thrilled that I've made it onto the pitch.

As the clock winds down we win a corner kick out on the left. Billy McCormack floats a ball to the back post where I'm lurking at the angle of the six yard box and I realise It's coming in my direction. I make a quick adjustment and swing with all my worth with my untested right-foot...and what do you know....the ball flies to the roof of the net.

Cue pandemonium!

I've scored with my very first touch as a St Kevin's Boys player and I'm soon engulfed under a pile of bodies ....and the thought passes though my head that I might also die at that very moment, but I survive and the match finishes in a draw. I've played my part and made a contribution and I feel so proud.

To me it's like a win and as we walk off the pitch, Lar gives me a ruffle of my hair and says 'well done,' a broad grin filling his face and it made me smile too. It was there all day!

Ellenfield was a remarkable place back then and some of the best games took place on the basketball court while the oldies played pitch-and-toss behind the pavilion.

Those games could last hours and hours and the dinner had often dried up in the oven by the time you made it home. But they were classy players - none more so than Joyce Duffy - often a first pick when sides were being made up and no one raised an eye as she was tough as nails and she could play.

Then there was Gary Malone on his crutches and he was as quick with the crutches as without and if you got in the way they could hurt. Denny McNamara, Paddy Byrne, Joey Salmon, Joey Malone, Dave Noonan, Robbie Meehan, Ghisty Hyland, Bobby Duffy and the older guys like Dessie White, big Yanny Kiely, Brendan Duffy, Nigger Maher, Gerry Scully and Fran Malone - not a bad player among them.

Sunday's were mass in Whitehall church and then hopping the wall to watch Dessie Lawlor's side with Brady and Daly in action as Mick Davenport walked the pitch with his collection box raising funds for the yet to be built clubhouse.

Lar would often be on the end line taking in the action and there'd always be an hello. A game on the basketball court lasted for hours and long after the pavilions were locked up, the action remained as frenetic on the concrete patch where some of the best games in Ellenfield were played.

The away matches with Lar were really remarkable feats of endurance and planning. There were no cars and no parents travelling, just Lar and the team and while you always had your fare, a couple of pennies in your pocket, Lar would often cough up and ask for 'one adult and 15 half-fares'. Now that always brought a smile to your face as it guaranteed you an ice-pop on the way home and I believe it helped raise your game as you were already in 'bonus' territory.

Better still, if we won and Lar was in generous mood - as he often was - he'd pay on the way back too. We'd all marvel as the bus conductor cranked out the ticket which would end up around six or seven feet long and there'd be a fight over who got the ticket as a souvenir.

Simple pleasures as they were back then. Larry, with the kit crunched on his knees, smiling and enjoying the banter with his players and we discovered new placed like Sallynoggin, Ballyfermot, Greenhills, Crumlin and Bushy Park to name but a few.

You look back now and wonder how it all went so right. There was never any drama of the loss of a player as you swopped and changed buses, yet we always turned up at these 'foreign' outposts in plenty of time to take on all and sundry with just Larry as the adult supervising us.

One incident with Lar elevated him even higher in my esteem and that was the night Ferker Newman robbed my player cards up at the Assembly Hall. We'd finished training - along with about a hundred other kids - and Newman who was just hanging around sidled over and grabbed all my 'swops' out of my hand as I was trading a few cards in the doorway.

I demanded he give them back to me, but he just pushed me away and told me to 'get lost'.

He was a local tough from 'Larker' and I knew I had little or no chance taking him on as he was a couple of years older, but in floods of tears I sought out my manager Lar Madden and explained what happened. Lar immediately bolted outside and Newman took off into the night like a scalded cat with Larry in hot pursuit.

Newman escaped and Lar returned apologising. I was devastated with the loss of my cards, but Larry reaches into his pocket and produces a Lady Lavery ten-shilling note.

"Here, go get yourself some more cards," he said.

Apart from my Communion, I don't thing I'd ever had possession of a ten-shilling note. I should have refused, but I didn't- thanked him through my quickly drying tears and then decided to run home as fast as I could in case Ferker Newman heard of my good fortune and came looking to get his hands on my wind-fall.

But that was Larry Madden, generous to a fault and always looking out for you - and to a 11-year old ten shilling was a small fortune and no doubt a sizeable chunk for Larry too, but that was the generosity of the man.

Camp was another great adventure for those of us in St Kevins as we headed off around the country and I managed to make the 1970 and '71 camps in Dalgan Park, Navan and Rockwell College in Tipperary.

Fun-filled days with Bobby Redmond always cracking jokes and Jack Bracken preparing the corned beef and spuds with the odd treat of a Jacob's Clubmilk and John Kelly and Larry running round organising things and making sure we were all entertained and had our days filled with a variety of activities. There was never a dull moment.

I recall Reggie Scully floundering in a swimming pool down in Dalgan Park where the water was murky and mucky but Reggie escaped a drowning and lived to tell the tale. There I saw Lar playing in 'competitive' games and you realised how good a player he was.

Despite his tall frame, Lar stroked the ball with a firm caress and had a silky touch. He was rarely dispossessed and his long legs managed to retain possession as his upper body strength came to the fore. He was tidy and classy and went about his business is a very polished way. Never one to hoof, he liked to get it down and play it on the deck.

Lar was an ever present and the sing-songs around camp fire are distant but fond memories of those sepia tinted days of growing up in a childhood rooted in those famous tangerine and black colours.

I recall a treasure hunt that went a little astray in Rockwell when a clue was left close to a wasps nest and the sight of different tents running in different directions through the woods as they sought refuge from the stings is still remarkably vivid. People were jumping into the lake to escape the winged demons and there was a lengthy queue outside the medical tent with the likes of Roddy McDarby insisting he'd been stung 12 times as if it was some type of badge of honour.

After my first season, I stayed back to play in my own age group and team mates like Joey Malone and Joey Salmon would go on and make a name for themselves at a higher grade.

Lar would always smile and beam with pride as one of his old players came to prominence and his attitude or manner never changed - just soft and gentle with that caring approach and always, always that smiling face.

Even though the years passed and the chance meeting with Lar were less frequent, any meeting was an opportunity to relive the good times we shared together and Larry would show he was fully informed about my own efforts in print ..with a little praise and a suggestion or two on what might make a good article.

There was never criticism, just simple support and encouragement. Lar never changed in that respect - always the kind word and always a source of support. And always that creased smile.

Last time I saw Larry was at the club's Academy Cup earlier this year. He looked a little gaunt but said he was responding well to treatment and was looking forward to getting better. I wished him well and we shook hands. He was still smiling despite his pain. Little did I know that would be the last time we would exchange pleasantries.

I was genuinely saddened to hear of the passing of this wonderful man. It's so hard to believe that Lar Madden is no more. I was just one of hundreds - perhaps thousands - that fell under the spell of the great Larry Madden and he leaves such a rich legacy.

Funerals tend to be sad occasions but it was nice to see so many old SKB personnel at Larry's removal. There were Dolans and Berminghams, Cornwalls and Wilkins, Gavins and Flanagans, Malones and Clarkes, O'Callaghans and O'Donoghues, Packie O'Connor and Paddy McKane, Peter Keating and Dessie Havelin , Kieran Heffernan and Foxy, the great Paddy Daly ....and so many, many more who simply went along to pay their respects to the legend that was Larry Madden. He simply touched so many peoples' lives.

Larry's involvement with the club went right back to close enough to its formation in 1959 by Fr. Des Williams. Larry was very much a one man club filling nearly every role available as player, manager and coach -in reality - a lifetime of service and loyalty.

Chairman Mick O'Callaghan spoke so eloquently at Larry's removal last Saturday and mentioned that the two words running through the common theme in the tributes to Lar were that of 'Legend' and 'Gentleman'.

Once again, that was right on the mark when you mentioned Larry Madden.

One hundred per cent right, Legend and Gentleman.

I cannot picture Larry in my minds eye without a beaming smile on his face. He simply lit up so many other people who came into his circle of friends - and they were simply in the thousands.

You'll not see his likes again.

RIP Lar.