We might have been called “narrow-backs” or “Micks” or “Donkeys” but the Irish of Laurel Hill were joined together as a community. My dad was in the Holy Name Society. He read the Epistles at Mass in St. Theresa’s. We would travel to Gaelic Park to watch Uncle “Mick” or Uncle Martin beat Kilkenny or lose to Kerry; all while we yelled “UP TIPP!” at the top of our lungs. We’d run under the bleacher…