Thrasher Magazine

The skateboarding world lost a beloved figure recently with the passing of Ireland’s Bruce Kelliher. Discovering skating at the ripe age of 23, Bruce attacked terrain like he was making up for lost time. His approach was a mix of danger, unnecessary risk and sheer fun. He was the best to watch—if you had the nerve to do so, as he was always so on edge. His enthusiasm for skating and life was infectious and he had such a positive impact on everybody around him. Our deepest condolences go out to his entire family and all of his friends worldwide. 

Photos by: Pham, Sharp, Gilligan and the Kelliher Family

Bruce, I will miss you so much. My heart goes to you, Michelle and your sons Archie, Mason and Ruben. I honestly can’t believe you are gone. We promised over the phone that we would go on a dad-style skate trip this year, but you left us before we could make that happen. I want to thank you for being who you are and being such a positive influence all around. All that you did really mattered and you will be remembered forever. When I think of you, you will always have that Zero sweater on! Bruce “The Ox” or “Bruce On Edge,” as we called you in Belgium prior to that—you were so special. No one skated like you. To watch you skate was as exhilarating as it was suspenseful and you were alway smiling. It was the best kind of skating and to have witnessed it was such a privilege. Thank you for being you—always. —Julian Dykmans 

I lost the most influential person in my life. My dad got me into skating, soccer, snowboarding and other activities, and without him I wouldn’t have much at all. I’m so grateful that I got to bond with him through skating, surfing and all the other fun stuff he loved doing, and I’m glad I was able to spend so much time with him. I just wish I’d told him how much of an inspiration he was to me. I’d like to thank everyone for all of the love and support during this difficult time. May the greatest dad ever rest in peace. I love you, Dad. —Ruben Kelliher (son)

Sometimes you meet people and instantly become friends. The day I met Bruce it felt like I’d always known him. There was something magnetic about him—his energy, his stoke, the way he’d ask you a question and genuinely care about your answer. When you’d land a trick you’d been trying, he’d be more stoked than you were. I always looked up to Bruce and had the utmost respect for him. He even got me to admit that I didn’t mind listening to some hip-hop (as long as I was in his car). I have to give it to The Ox, he didn’t waste one day of his life. He’d stay up late watching basketball, get up at 5 AM, drive three hours to pick you up, then drive another three hours to a spot. And even if it was wet he’d skate and you’d have a rad time. His energy was infectious. Bruce was a kind, generous, caring, loving man and I will miss him so much. Sending love and thoughts to Michelle, the boys, all his family and all of his friends around the globe. —Richard “French” Sayer

Last Monday I lost my brother Bruce. It’s still difficult to comprehend because he seemed invincible. Goodness knows he pushed his body past the limit so many times, but he always got back up, more determined than ever. Bruce was three and a half years older than me and I adored him as a kid. He played a large part in shaping who I am today. He was always somewhat of a legend, even when he was younger. The older girls in my secondary school used to try to buy photos of him off me. I would pretend I was annoyed at being known as “Bruce Kelliher’s sister” (I looked very like him when we were younger), but I was actually really proud. He had a rock-solid integrity and determination and he just seemed to be good at everything he pursued, whether it was skating, basketball, foreign languages, drawing or being a dad—or being a brother or son for that matter. I’m actually smiling writing this because I know he would cringe at these words and try to diffuse them with some wry comment like, Don’t forget I’m an intellectual genius. He was the most humble person and was kind, fair, diplomatic and charming. People loved him. He was also a beast on a skateboard (Google “Bruce The Ox Kelliher” if you’re not familiar). I think the thing I am going to miss the most is his humor—his sharp-as-a-razor, dry wit. He was so much fun! I would always try to sit or stand near him so I could buzz off of him. It seems quite fitting that Bruce departed this world while playing basketball. I think he would be okay with that part of it. I’m heartbroken for Michelle, Ruben, Mason and Archie. And for my Mom and Dad. It’s a big loss for all of us. —Tracey Kelliher (sister)

I wish to express my eternal gratitude to a man I met in the old Arcadia dancehall in Cork City over 20 years ago. At the St Patrick's Day comp, his power move—which stole the day—was a bomb drop through the open window of a pub onto the street course. The same day introduced me to his girlfriend Michelle. Bruce brought out the best in all of us. We skated faster and took a few extra slams when he was around. If he suggested a four-hour round trip mission to skate a six-foot fullpipe, we’d all ask if there was extra room in the car. Marseilles, Malmö, Muff with Bruce and Rich—there were times when I felt unworthy of such friendships. Legend says when his mum was pregnant with him she would accompany Ray in the rally car—a daredevil co-pilot with fire in her heart and in her womb. Every trip, every session, every laugh, every Yop and Dr Pepper, breathing in good cement dust in a rural pipe—those were the days of our lives and we all knew it. We nearly drowned in massive waves in Sligo, Italy. He saved my life and we hugged on the shore. Last summer we met under a tree in rainy Carlow, reminiscing, waiting, watching the rain fall and feeling hopeless. An hour later he led us to Kilkenny along flooded midlands roads. Somehow it was dry and the session was on—no excuses, no complaining, just keep your head down and hit the lip. I’m numb; my heart drowns in sadness; writing these words makes it seem real. We may be saying our goodbyes to the most loved character in Irish skateboarding history, but The Ox will live on forever in his three fine sons—Ruben, Mason and Archie. He’ll live on through our shared stories and memories. He’ll live on through his beautiful wife Michelle. Every time my thumb feels griptape or I think of a quote from Blazing Saddles, he’ll be there. And he’ll live in our skateboarding, in the very fabric of our proud community, in the hard weatherbeaten concrete of the land, every time our eyes spy an almost skateable spot, in the energy of the session, in the sound of our laughter. If you want to pay your respects, just grab your skateboard and walk out the front door, be generous to the kids and the weirdos, be respectful of your days on this earth and live your life with a smile and a sense of gratitude. Today is the only guarantee we have. Life is so fuckin’ precious. Go skate. Bruce Kellier, my friend, you’ll never be forgotten. —Jay Doherty 

I am saying goodbye to my gorgeous brother Bruce. He was the warmest and most open person, a monster skateboarder, a wonderful dad and his jokes were always delivered with an infectious smirk. Lots of people leave friends behind as they get older, but Bruce just seemed to accumulate more and more as time went on. He had a network of people all over the globe, from all walks of life, who were just delighted to know him, as we all were. I never got sick of being asked, “Hey, are you Bruce Kelliher’s sister?” I am and always will be. I am fiercely proud of him. Thank you all so much for your beautiful messages. They mean the world to us. —Alma Kelliher (sister)

I first met Bruce Kelliher in Dublin when I was 16 years old. He was a bit older than me, and he kinda took me under his wing and we became fast friends through our mutual obsession with skateboarding. He and Michelle had a tiny flat on Capel Street back then. I would head into town most weekends and watch skate videos there before heading off around the city with him searching for spots. We were constantly searching! It was around that time that I got my first camera and in many ways Bruce was my initial subject matter. He was endlessly encouraging to me as I fucked up roll after roll of film. He was incredibly patient and kind with his time on and off the board. And not just with me, but with everyone he met. And it wasn’t a front—he just had this raw, infectious energy about him that seemed to bring out the best in people. Bruce became a big-brother figure to me and had a huge, positive impact on my life during that time. He would pass on knowledge and advice without outright telling you what to do—he just gave you gentle nudges that helped build your confidence. Bruce had this incredibly creative mind and was able to make impossible things feel somehow completely within your reach. We would nerd out for hours, looking through skate mags and talking about how amazing it would be to somehow get something published someday. So we made zines together and just had the craic. The real craic. The I-think-I-might-be-sick-from-laughing kind of craic. And then one day out of nowhere it just happened—we had a photo published in SLAP Magazine (thanks, NZA)! It was almost as if he had it all worked out from the get-go. I know how crazy I sound right now, but I’m deadly serious. As I got older we became really close; we always kept in touch. He was there for me and countless others through thick and thin. Last Monday he left us whilst playing basketball with his son. I still can’t fully wrap my head around the fact that he’s gone, and my heart goes out to Michelle and his three incredible boys—Archie, Mason and Ruben. You will be missed by so many, Bruce. Thanks for making the world a brighter place while your light shone. —Rich Gilligan 

Our family is really grateful for the support and love we have received from the skateboarding community worldwide. We are very touched by it; it’s really been amazing. Please tell your Bruce story in the comments below.  —Evelyn and Rae Kelliher (parents)