Before the RTÉ Player, there was the Astra Satellite, sending the radio signal out from Donnybrook to the world, linking the Irish corner of the global village.

From Monasterevin to Oslo to Marseille, Miami to Ontario to Melbourne, there was a comfort in everybody being able to hear the same thing. That sense of a worldwide community is never stronger than on All-Ireland day.

With two All-Ireland weekends in a row, the hurling last Sunday and the football this weekend, many people took a moment to remember the GAA legend Mícheál Ó Muircheartaigh, who died last month at the age of 93.

It draws into focus what a marvellous job he did over more than six decades – welcoming listeners from around the country, and world; painting a picture for them of what was happening on the pitch; providing a special mention for the many who could not be physically present.

Their spirits certainly were, though, aided by the sense of occasion that his commentary always provided.

On television, the pictures can speak for themselves and the commentator can often benefit from a ‘less is more’ approach.

By contrast, radio is a medium of constant description and dead air is the greatest of no-nos – the man from Dún Síon was a master at ensuring the gaps were filled in an informative and entertaining manner.

Big break

His break came in 1949, when he was a student at St Patrick’s College in Drumcondra, training to be a teacher.

A poster advertised the fact that auditions would be taking place – the notice, as Gaeilge, used the word ‘triallacha’ or ‘trials’ – at Croke Park for would-be commentators and Mícheál and a few contemporaries went along.

Taking place on the field was a hurling match between UCD and Faughs and each hopeful would be given a few minutes to describe the action. Programmes were provided to aid the candidates, though there was a slight wrinkle in that the man from West Kerry had never before witnessed a game of hurling.

No matter, for the name of the UCD goalkeeper Tadhg Hurley jumped out from the teamlist – he was a native of Dingle and Mícheál knew the family.

Taking advantage of the fact that the adjudicators could not see the match and were simply judging the commentaries based on what was said, he proceeded to describe Tadhg Hurley putting on the single greatest individual display that Croke Park had ever seen.

In this alternative reality, UCD won a penalty and called Hurley up from the other end to take it. “It took him at least a minute to come from the Canal goal up,” Mícheál said, years later.

“And while he was coming up, I spoke about his brother Bob, who was in Donal’s class, and his sister who used to come out to Dún Síon strand during the summer.”

It’s rare that any one of us would hazard a first attempt at a piece of work and absolutely nail the method and the performance, but it’s hard to argue that Mícheál did not do that.

By luck or fate or simply unlocked talent, he provided a template that he himself would perfect as the years went past – and that many others would try to recreate but, naturally, without as much success.

Wireless

Opportunities to work in television could have been taken, but his loyalty remained with the wireless. “Radio is there the whole year round,” he said. “I stuck with that decision and I never regretted it.”

Like the vignette about Tadhg Hurley’s family, there was many a gap in play over the years that was filled with an anecdote, such as finding the North and South Kerry editions of The Kerryman at a newstand in Times Square or buying a greyhound from Pat Fox’s father.

There were, it should be noted, accoutrements to the primary duty, which was to keep the legions listening up to date with what was happening.

As described at his funeral, he was the nation’s grandfather, the comforting presence familiar to so many, even if they had never met him. He was the soundtrack to summer Sundays.

Mícheál preferred a close game, as “you like to keep the listeners and like to give them something to be enthused about.” He could certainly never be accused of lacking in the enthusiasm stakes and that perhaps is what ensured that his sound never became stale or hackneyed.

For many years, the commentary was a second job to his teaching. However, even when he became full-time with RTÉ following Micheál O’Hehir’s retirement, that sense of wonder or innocence was never lost to cynicism or world-weariness.

Mícheál’s last All-Irelands were in 2010. On YouTube, there is a video of him leaving Croke Park following Cork’s win over Down, surrounded by well-wishers. One man, overcome with the emotion of it all, bellows, “Mícheál for President, Mícheál for the Park! The campaign starts here!”

He was never elected to the office, but he never had to be. His place in the pantheon never required a vote.

In the commentary box:

“Seán Óg Ó hAilpín: his father’s from Fermanagh, his mother’s from Fiji – neither a hurling stronghold.”

“Pat Fox has it on his hurley and is motoring well now, but here comes Joe Rabbitte hot on his tail… I’ve seen it all now, a Rabbitte chasing a Fox around Croke Park!”

“Colin Corkery on the 45 let’s go with the right boot. It’s over the bar. This man shouldn’t be playing football. He’s made an almost Lazarus-like recovery from a heart condition. Lazarus was a great man but he couldn’t kick points like Colin Corkery.”

“Mike Houlihan for Limerick. Houlihan, the cattle jobber. He had his jaw broken by a kick from a bullock two months ago. He’s back now. ‘Twas some bullock that broke Mike Houlihan’s jaw!”

Outside the commentary box:

“I always tell young people not to become what other people want you to become - become what you want to be. When it comes to work, the trick is to find a job you like to do. Interest is key, otherwise it quickly becomes a chore and you are counting the years until retirement.”

“[The key to longevity is] looking forward. Looking forward to the day ahead. That was part of a prayer I learned very young, it came from my grandmother. Briefly translated it would be this: ‘Wake every morning with the rising of the sun and be looking forward to the day ahead as a great day. Be full of hope for the day that didn’t start yet.’ I think I had that motto.”

Looking back, after retirement:

“It takes a lot to put it all together. Since 1926, RTÉ has been doing that, bringing the stories of games to people up and down the country, I think that that’s fantastic. Everybody puts their shoulder into whatever little part they have.

“I’d say the nicest little part of all – sitting down on a good seat, looking at wonderful players.”