Cúchulain of the air

Micheál Ó Muircheartaigh is quite appropriately Ireland's most universally beloved broadcaster, virtually untouchable by any serious criticism. (I've thrown a few harmless cream-pies in his direction over the years, but nothing that could or would dim his fundamental brilliance.) So fair play to whoever it was that came up with a radical realisation: a Micheál match-broadcast could actually be improved if we were allowed a few gaps in the wall of Kerry-accented sound.

Micheál's work at his best is extravagantly, but also somewhat forbiddingly, beautiful. GAA non-initiates were invited to sink or swim in the extraordinary depths of his sporting and cultural knowledge, to be carried away by the relentless currents of his minute, rapid-fire commentary. If they drowned, well, it was a very pleasant way to go.

Ó Muircheartaigh himself, meanwhile, never seemed to need to catch his breath. But in this year's championship, suddenly, we are hit with the revelation that for all the brilliance of his solo runs, Micheál is even more effective – or at least more universally accessible – when he can pass the ball. For last weekend's Dublin-Tyrone quarter-final at Croke Park, he was joined in the Saturday Sport commentary box by former Galway footballer Ray Silke (as in "smooth as"), and the broadcast was every bit as good as the game itself.

Rest assured, this is no demotion for Ó Muircheartaigh, who was allowed to meet his full quota of almost self-parodying asides. Of their view from that commentary box, for example: "I can see the Hill of Howth, where the fianna played football thousands of years ago." (Hurling? "Cúchulain's game", he called that a little later.)

And lest there be any doubt, Silke silkily reminded listeners of the pecking order in a little half-time exchange:

Micheál: "Ray, isn't a privilege to be here for this game today?"
Ray: "Well it's a privilege to work with you, Micheál."

Silke richly earned both privileges, though this was not a game that made great demands on him in terms of analysing and explaining tactical subtleties. His role was as a highly articulate chorus of appreciation for the spectacle, with well chosen statistics – such as the high proportion of points from play – to illustrate his enthusiasm. And in much the same way, Ó Muircheartaigh sometimes jumps into the Irish language in midstream. Inviting us to regard the shift as an index of his great excitement, Silke delivered his final stirring words of praise for the day's players in fluent gaeilge.

Earlier he had sung their praises, like a warrior of old, by lofting a few spears across the Irish Sea. "You know Micheál, the Premiership is starting over in England today, with players like Rio Ferdinand on £120,000 a week, but I tell you there's more quality out on that pitch here this afternoon."

Well of course Rio and company can afford to brush off such remarks like so many midges, but it seemed a little harsh on those professional footballers. They don't really, after all, determine the market conditions for their wages, and they were already under a barrage from snobby English journalists relishing the drama being served up this summer by cricket's gentlemen gladiators, who earn x per cent less money but deliver x per cent more commitment blah blah blah.

That said, Ray's point was underlined in screaming red ink by a simple twist of the radio dial, taking the listener from the incredible noise and excitement and "quality" of Croke Park to the Stadium of Light in Sunderland, where Today FM's Premiership Live could do little to disguise the tedium and poverty of the entertainment on offer. It doesn't help the Irish station that Murdochvision keeps the best English games out of the Saturday 3pm slot, including, to start the campaign, all of last season's top five teams. The difference between the start-of-season hype and the reality of Sunderland v Charlton is a lot more dramatic than if one of the big clubs had featured.

But the after-match phone-in sounded contrived, even when it tried to generate excitement about Man U or Chelsea from boring callers. Instead of phoning in to discuss English soccer, shouldn't those guys really have been elsewhere, talking about the Dubs?