He is a man known by several different names. To many, he is simply Michael Darragh. To his friends, he is Mick. To the legion of GAA fans who followed his decade-long exploits with the Dublin football team – winning eight All-Ireland medals in the process – he is MDMA. Now, Michael Darragh Macauley is about to add a few more letters to his moniker as he takes over as chief executive of Sanctuary Runners, the running club founded in Cork in 2018 in a bid to encourage integration between asylum seekers, refugees and migrants and Irish residents.
It’s a beautiful Saturday morning in Ringsend in Dublin and Macauley is limbering up for a 5km run with his new clubmates in the shadow of Dublin’s iconic Poolbeg Towers. He may have swapped his sky-blue Dubs jersey for a brighter shade emblazoned with neon yellow lettering, but his distinctive loping gait is a dead giveaway. A few seasoned GAA fans do double-takes but to most, the 37-year-old is simply another Sanctuary Runner, rubbing shoulders with locals and the club’s international contingent.
We have to hold on to a little bit of anger for the people who are facing injustice, both in this country and beyond. And the other thing is to hold on to a little bit of hope
After the run is done and dusted, he resignedly shakes his head. There was no personal best today, but that’s all right; he has spent the last week in France “eating croissants” at the Olympics, where he witnessed his friend Kellie Harrington win a gold medal in boxing. “There was talk of us all getting matching croissant tattoos at one point,” he chuckles, recalling the late-night celebrations. “I’m not sure how that one’ll pan out.”
Macauley has never taken the most obvious path available to him. Given his articulacy, experience and affable demeanour, most people who followed his playing career may have expected him to venture into media as a pundit or a columnist after he hung up his boots for Dublin in 2021 , or even into a coaching or management role. But a reprieve from the intensity of inter-county football was “a breath of fresh air”.
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And while the fairy-tale ending to his county football career would’ve been nice, his lack of involvement during his final year on the Dublin panel – “not for lack of trying, on my end” – helped to make up his mind. “It was the right time,” he says. “Look, no one gets that finish where you get to walk away on a gold medal, or after kicking the winning goal. Well, unless you’re Kellie Harrington.” He grins. “That would’ve been preferable, but I’m okay with that.”
Macaulay also recently made the decision to retire from club football with Ballyboden St Enda’s. Today, he notes, is the first time in 20 years that he has not lined out in midfield for the club as they play their first match of the championship. Instead, the last year was spent playing a bit of basketball – his other sporting passion – and “doing a bit of travelling”. He winces theatrically at the suggestion that this now officially makes him a “former sportsperson”.
“But I’m a Sanctuary Runner now,” he points out. “Nah, I think I feel okay about it. People ask me a lot, ‘Do you miss the football?’, and I’ll always miss the sunny days in Croke Park, with 80,000 people and the excitement that builds around that.”
He nods. “I’ll miss that until the day I die. But it’s what goes around all of that. I saw a brilliant interview with a swimmer during the Olympics, and she really nailed it; she said you need to want it so badly, but not need it. I wanted it really badly – and you will not get to the top levels, you will not play for your top club team or county team, you will not push on in elite sport unless you really want it. But needing it is a different ball game, and I think that’s when it gets wrapped up in people’s identity; that they don’t know themselves outside of it. I worry for some people who are involved now at that level, because I just feel that they need it.”
He has practised and taught yoga and meditation for some time, which he says has helped him to safeguard his mental health and allowed him a sense of perspective.
“I know how important sport is, but I think it’s just my life journey that’s given me perspective on what’s gone on,” he says. “I just don’t think it’s the end of the world. If Kellie had lost that fight, it’s not the end of the world – or if we’d lost whatever match, it’s not the end of the world.”
It starts to rain and we take shelter under a nearby tree. “I know it’s maybe easier for me to say that now, standing under a tree in Ringsend, as opposed to at the final whistle of a big match. But I don’t let losses haunt me, and I always try to pull back and see the bigger picture.”
Macaulay has always been able to tap into that sense of Zen and balance. He acknowledges that the death of his mother Rosaleen from lung cancer when he was 12 had a big impact on his outlook on life.
“I suppose I’ve seen what happened with my mam passing when I was younger, and I realised that this little trip that we’re on isn’t going to last forever.”
There’s a lot of illness in my family, unfortunately,” he says, referring to the pulmonary fibrosis lung condition that his sister Margaret and his late father Michael, who died in 2012, suffered from. His brother, a doctor in Australia, also has the condition. He himself has decided against being tested for it for now. “I don’t know what’s ahead of me in my own future, from a health perspective. So I’m very aware that we really need to enjoy it and make the most out of this little spin that we have on the rock.”
Macaulay has always wholeheartedly leant into his role as a spokesperson, role model and community leader – whether it has been as an ambassador for Concern, his former guise as a primary schoolteacher, advocating for organ donation, his work with the Irish Support for Palestine group, or his recent day job with Dublin’s northeast inner city community. He is the anti-Conor McGregor, I suggest, and his face lights up. “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever got,” he deadpans. “It’s about time someone said it.”
There is a “big responsibility” that goes hand in hand with being a top-level footballer, he says. “I don’t think that everyone grabs that.”
“I find it really enjoyable, to give back,” he adds. “I don’t do it for sympathy, or Instagram likes, or whatever. I do it for almost selfish reasons. I do it because it’s what makes me happy. If I can give away one of my smelly Dublin jerseys and it can make someone’s day, how ridiculous is that? Or if someone asks me to come and see the work they’re doing in Kenya, or Iraq, or Lebanon, that’s an absolute privilege. The chances afforded to me through kicking a ball up and down a field have been amazing.”
Macaulay believes that his social conscience was developed through his love of basketball and hip-hop as a child. He remains as passionate about music to this day and proudly shows off his tattoos in honour of rappers J Cole and Tupac Shakur.
“When I was 10 years old going to school, I was listening to Tupac and NWA, Dr Dre and all the lads. I remember distinctly having my eyes opened to black America, and the Rodney King riots, and just having that sense of injustice: ‘Why does that happen to them?’. I didn’t fully understand it, but I couldn’t get my head around it because these were all my biggest role models at the time. My childhood bedroom had posters of Michael Jordan, Tupac, Notorious B.I.G., Dennis Rodman; all of these people from black America. The way that people of colour were being treated at the time really weighed on me. So I reckon that was probably my first introduction to social justice and what it meant.”
His emotional appearance on The Late Late Show in April to raise awareness of the importance of organ donation, meanwhile, spawned a huge reaction. His father was on the waiting list for a lung transplant, but sadly died at the age of 71 before a suitable donor was found. His sister Margaret, however, received a successful transplant late last year.
“She’s doing great – I should’ve dragged her here for the run,” he says, smiling. “It’s amazing to see the pre- and post- transplant and what it can do, and I suppose that’s why I’ve been such an advocate for [organ donation], because it is absolutely life-changing. And I’ve seen both sides of it, in terms of my dad not receiving [a transplant] and my sister getting one – so it’s amazing to see her in good form.”
He laughs at the idea of him and his two siblings having a harmonious relationship as children.
“We absolutely murdered each other – I can just hear my mam laughing somewhere up there, being asked that question,” he laughs. “No, we were just general Irish siblings. It always worries me, when I see my girlfriend’s siblings and family being so close and so friendly and polite with each other. I’m like, ‘Did yis not kill each other in the back of the car? I thought that was just a part of growing up’ But no, look – with everything we’ve gone through, it’s definitely only brought us closer together.”
Macauley has been with his girlfriend Sarah McCaffrey – a former Dublin Ladies’ footballer, and sister of Macauley’s former team-mate Jack – since early 2020. “It’s all good,” he says. “The McCaffrey family are quite well-known – partly for being good at football and partly for being just so nice. They’re an easy family to get on with and they were all so good, during what was happening with my family. They are the real deal, in terms of caring about other people. They’re amazing.”
Macaulay’s new CEO role with Sanctuary Runners comes at a vital juncture for the club. There are currently 40 outposts around Ireland, with plans for international growth, too – but with a growing anti-immigrant sentiment, both in Ireland and elsewhere, he is fully aware of the challenge.
“It’s such a tough question, and anyone who thinks they have the answer to it is lying,” he says. “From the point of view of Sanctuary Runners, it just wants to be a beacon of hope to people. I get angered when I’m walking down the canal, and I see people shouting at people in tents, telling them to ‘Get out of our country’. Who are we, and how did we come to this? When did we become so divided? It’s a worrying place, where the country is at the moment. And I feel sometimes, bad news sells – so I think the extreme views are the ones that are getting the most attention. I don’t feel like the views that we’re seeing loud and proud on social media are the ones that represent Irish people, but they are the ones getting the most traction.”
[ Sanctuary Runners: ‘The transformation in people’s lives has been amazing’Opens in new window ]
There is a danger of activists getting “burned out”, he says, and for “war fatigue and genocide fatigue” to set in among the general public. “But I think we have to have two things: we have to hold on to a little bit of anger for the people who are facing injustice, both in this country and beyond. And the other thing is to hold on to a little bit of hope. I woke up this morning and I turned on my phone and 90 people were murdered in Gaza ...” He trails off, shaking his head. “We need to have a little bit of anger about what’s going on there – it can’t be just another news headline. And we need to hold on to a little bit of hope that life can get better for these people, and for the people in Ireland.”
His thoughts are echoed by Deirdre McGing, one of the leaders of the Sanctuary Runners group at Poolbeg. She is one of the people responsible for the tea and coffee station that is set up after every run, allowing club members to socialise, mix and get to know each other.
“It’s the solidarity, the running together,” she says of the club’s appeal. “When I got involved, things probably weren’t what they are now, in terms of the news and everything – but I just felt it was important to welcome people into the community, not to isolate people. And it’s been really eye-opening to me. We try to help people – whether it’s giving them lifts, helping them out with running gear, or even in jobs or courses – just expanding out and trying to help people integrate with the wider community.”
The club is making a real difference in many people’s lives. One of them is Ukrainian Yuliia Shebek, who has been living in an accommodation centre in Dublin since she fled the war in her home city of Lviv 17 months ago. When she arrived in Ireland, she did not speak English and she had never run, having suffered from health problems including asthma in Ukraine. Being part of the group, all unified under their blue T-shirt banner, has given her a sense of community, improved her health and afforded her an opportunity to practise speaking English.
“Everyone has the same goal – to finish,” she says, smiling. “This wonderful country is so good for my health and good people are near me. The support and help is great. It’s a new experience for my life, and now I have a new goal – I’m going to do the full marathon for the first time in October.” She grins. “I want the big medal.”
There will be no marathon for Macauley this year, although he admits that he completed a half-marathon with a few former Dublin team-mates in a bid to keep fit. For now, his energy will go towards growing his new club and raising awareness of the importance of acceptance and integration within communities. There is already a Sanctuary Swimmers group, he says, and sports can hold the key to making a difference on that level.
“There’s people who’d be better at different facets of this job, but I’d like to hope that not too many people are more passionate in this area than I am,” he says. “There’s a whole team of people who really care about it, which is hugely important in this job. And they could probably get paid more to work in banks and tech firms, but they’re people who care about the mission of Sanctuary Runners. So it’s really nice being around people who are in the same head space as you.”
Yesterday, he says, he was asked where he thinks he’ll be a decade from now, but he didn’t have an answer. Considering the twists and turns that his life has taken in the last 10 years, from primary schoolteacher to CEO, anything is possible. He rules out a career in politics, although admits that he is often asked about it – but could we see President Macauley at some point down the line?
“The Áras do amazing sandwiches,” he concedes. “They cut off the crusts! I haven’t had that since my auntie’s house, years ago. So whenever I think of Áras an Uachtaráin, all I think about is those mad posh sandwiches. So if I could have them on tap? I wouldn’t say no to that.”
He may joke, but Macauley’s commitment to making things a little better for the less fortunate members of society is clearly a driving force in his life. He laughs as he recalls recently being asked to give a career talk to teenagers.
“I was like, ‘How is 37-year-old Michael Darragh giving career advice to 17-year-olds, when he was the most lost of them all?’,” he grins. “Look, a motto I’ve always worked by is one I robbed from Conan O’Brien. He had his dream job and lost it, and on his last-ever segment when he was signing off, his advice to young people was ‘Whatever you do, work hard, be nice and good things will happen.’ And I’ve always found that’s the way. It doesn’t matter if you’re the smartest, the fastest, the funniest; if you work hard and if you’re nice – or in Dublin, let’s call it sound – good things will happen.”
“I’ve always believed that, and it’s worked for me so far.”
