But the world-renowned Bowl of the Sun came to light because of it.

A most extraordinary story. Just imagine! One of the most significant archaeological discoveries in recent times came about because of a man’s love of hurling.

In the case of John Hayes it was more than love. It was an obsession with the Limerick senior hurling team. So intense were his emotions during games that, one summer, his life was put in danger. Yet because of this trauma he was responsible for uncovering what is now regarded internationally as of supreme importance in our understanding of pre-Christian sun worship, not just in Ireland but in Western Europe.

Not without reason, this hurling fanatic from East Limerick was nicknamed The Roarer Hayes. When Limerick were playing, especially in championship games, his powerful voice could be heard from throw in until the final whistle was blown. He shouted and yelled at the players, at the referee, the linesmen, the umpires, the managers and mentors on the sideline.

Even his many good friends avoided sitting near him. His yelling abuse at players from the opposing team sometimes led to noisy arguments with rival supporters. More than once he came home from a match sporting a torn shirt or a black eye, unbecoming for a big weighty man of advanced middle age.
Then, in the middle of a first round championship game in Semple Stadium, his overwrought state brought about a collapse. There was a great commotion on the crowded terrace as he was carried away by the St John’s First Aid team. He was taken by ambulance to hospital in Cashel.
“The heart is not good with you,” said the doctor.
“Do you know the final score, doctor?”
“The Final Whistle will sound for you if you get over-excited at matches again.”

The wife, a strong, sensible woman, declared that match going was over for him. He had to go on a diet and start to do a lot of walking to try to get his heart back into some kind of shape. The Roarer, who valued his life only a little more than hurling, had to accede.

As it happened, the match he had been at ended in a draw. The replay was televised. It was the first championship match with Limerick playing that he had not attended in years. He sat at home in front of the set, trying to keep calm. However, despite his best efforts, the frenzy of the game got to him. He began to yell and hop up and down in the chair until he felt the pains in his chest. The wife gave him the pill to put under his tongue and switched off the television abruptly.

Limerick got through to the semi-final but even he had to concede that watching the game on television was dangerous. “ Ah, I’ll just listen to it on the radio out in the back garden” he said. The problem was that Michéal O Muircheartaigh’s commentary reverberated with all the excitement of the game. Despite a resolution to stay calm, The Roarer Hayes got caught up in it and began to shout and prance about. He did so until he felt acute chest pains. He staggered into the house. The wife gave him the medication and put him to bed. It was only in the evening, after he had recovered, partly through a sound sleep, that she told him that Limerick won the match with a last minute goal. “Oh Jaysus, that would have finished me off entirely,” he said.

On the day of the Munster final he and his wife decided that the best thing for him would be to take a walk somewhere from 3pm until the match was well over at 5.30. Walking about the village and townland was out. There would be televisions and radios blaring in every house and in the pubs and on car radios. The Roarer could be drawn into the match by the cheers and the moans, end up watching the game in the pub or someone’s house.

That is why, on that momentous day, he drove up into the heart of the Slieve Felims. Fortunately, the radio in his own car had been stolen near Croke Park several months before and he had never got round to replacing it, so he had no struggle with temptation.

After some time, he turned onto a steep side-road and, when it petered out, parked the car. It was a lonesome place. There was not a soul to be seen. He could see the landscape far below. He followed a sheep path along the side of the mountain. Then, to one side, he noticed a small bowl-like hallow. He went over and stood on its rim, where he got the smell of heather and dry sod. The side of the hallow was not too steep and he went down to the very bottom, where he found a flat stone to sit on.

The sun beamed down warmly. The air was still. There was hardly a sound, except for bees buzzing about the heather. The strange serenity of this peculiar spot seeped into his being and he felt completely at peace with himself and the world. He fell into a short, peaceful sleep.

The Roarer was a builder by trade. When he woke up and then stood up to stretch himself he sensed that there was something solid beneath the moss at his feet. With the heel of his shoe he scraped the moss away to reveal part of a large flat stone. When he examined it and found curved carvings on it he set about completely removing all the moss. The stone proved to have concentric circles on it such as those at New Grange. Even at that stage John Hayes guessed that this magic hallow might be some pre-Christian place dedicated to the sun and sun worship.

When he got home his wife told him that Limerick had been beaten. He was disappointed, of course, but he was now preoccupied with making sure the right people were told of his discovery. Three days later he led a group of people from the National Museum and Office of Public Works to view the spot. Within a week, a team of archaeologists was at the site. John Hayes’s photograph was in all the newspapers, standing at the edge of the hallow; he was interviewed on TV and radio. t transpired that the hallow had been known but forgotten. It was marked on some old maps as Ballagreen, now interpreted as a crude Anglicisation of Babhla na Gréine, Bowl of the Sun.

John Hayes became regarded as a well-informed guide; there were many calls on him to take parties of archaeologists and other interested groups from Ireland and Europe to view the site. Over the next few months he actually lost several stone weight and became much more nimble because of all the walking and climbing.

However, of greater significance was the change in his temperament. As a guide, he constantly referred to the inner peace and tranquillity that he himself had found in the hallow. He had indeed became a much more serene person. He no longer allowed anything to bother him.

“If you keep going the way you are, you’ll soon be able to go to matches without endangering yourself,” remarked his wife.