Rowers Gary and Paul O’Donovan look toward Toyko Olympics

Skibbereen siblings admit to being obsessed with becoming the best in the world

They have moved from the Rio bubble back to civilian life. But Skibbereen has never left Gary and Paul O'Donovan. They were guests in Boston recently rowing up the Charles River, crowds lining the banks.

“Pull like a dog,” the people chanted. Skibbereen has not only remained with the pair but has been transplanted to the USA, one line of their post silver medal euphoria now with a west Cork patent.

A team of brothers, more the Maguire sisters Leona and Lisa than the Gallagher brothers Liam and Noel, they are kindred spirits with a common interest.

That close connection has become a powerful thing in their sport. In the O’Donovan’s brotherhood, their understated passion and ability to simplify the complex has instantly become an authentic voice, unforced and brilliant.

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Always instinctive

“We’d never actually been to the States before,” says Gary. “They were chanting ‘pull like a dog’ at us when we were racing in Boston at the edge of the course.”

“I saw one fella came up to me and he had ‘pull like a dog’ tattoo up his arm,” says Paul. “Not for me.”

You move through the points of interest with them, their views always instinctive and unguarded. On to shady ground and Theraputic Use Exemptions (TUEs) and what they think of them, of Bradley Wiggins, the leaked medical files, the exploding world of drugs in sport.

It is the first slowing of their chatter as they both look across the table, silent and mildly confused.

“Which athletes? I don’t know anything about it really. What is it,” asks Paul with a furrowed brow. “We don’t have TUEs. But it wouldn’t bother me if I had one that was leaked. It has no bearing on my life or role in the sport,” he says.

“Are they supposed to be leaked? I think that’s what they’re asking,” explains Gary to his brother. They, the TUEs, are supposed to be private, the pair are told.

“It has absolute no bearing on my life. I don’t care about it at all,” says Paul. In another room talking to another athlete from another sport you would not believe that answer. Today is different.

Their grant now is likely to be bumped up from pre-Olympics €12,000 to €40,000 when the next tranche of ever shrinking state lolly is divided out.

Paul is studying physiotherapy. Gary has just graduated in marketing. You could think it might change their lives in some way, bring some home comforts closer.

But in thinking that way you miss their beat, you are blind to their drive. Sure they will take the money. But it has never been about that. It will never be.

“Like we still have a job to do,” says Gary. “What we want is just get by from one day to the next, put fuel in the car and food on the table and get our training done. As long as we have enough money to do that everything else is irrelevant.

“I don’t really know what’s so appealing,” he adds. “I love being out on the water. You’re outside, you’re in nature, you get away from the world. You’re in your own little bubble every time you go out on the water.

“Then there’s that constant focus outside of the water. You have to turn your whole life into a rowing obsession. To become the very best at it . . . it just kind of takes over your whole world from the day you start. Every element of your life revolves around improving and getting faster. So it’s more of an obsession.”

The two are Olympic silver medallists and European Champions in the lightweight double sculls and Paul is the world champion in the lightweight single sculls.

Sibling synergy

Gary, who is 23-years-old, says he has never beaten Paul. He looks across at his 22-year-old younger brother knowing that one must always beat the other.

But some day he will defeat the world champion. In that they feed off each, as much a sibling synergy as rivalry.

To say the relationship is passive and agreeable is probably to underestimate the competitive energy of the two.

Obsessions are extreme, never things to be taken casually although in public at least they wear the word lightly.

“We’ve set out since we were kids that we wanted to go to a couple of Olympics. We talked about it. I suppose it’s not just that we’ve done well here. We’ve always wanted to go on. It was our intention,” says Paul about Toyko in four year’s time.

“Why would we stop,” adds Gary. “We’ve made such an effort to get ourselves to this point we’d be daft to let it all go to waste and stop. When we are up there we might as well try and stay up there.”

Up there they are. The Skibbereen brothers and the rest of the world.

Johnny Watterson

Johnny Watterson

Johnny Watterson is a sports writer with The Irish Times