Tomorrow afternoon in a beautifully-dressed and very full hotel function room, half choked by a stylish, grey cravat and shaking in freshly-polished shoes, I’ll push back my chair at the top table. Then, at last, I’ll slowly step into the nightmare I’ve been playing out for months. The best man’s speech.
Many of you will understand and appreciate the ordeal. More still will have gambled on how long someone else’s will drag on. But we’ve all sat through one — and this, my first, will not be easy.
While my good friend and his beautiful bride-to-be have undertaken the real and often unseen work of organising a modern Irish wedding-day — cars, hotels, music, flowers, whatever – I’ve been watching speeches on YouTube, made a list of his most embarrassing moments and talked to people, like a workaholic postman, about my delivery.
Those at sport’s top table, of course, are called upon often to grab the mic, pull a cue card from inside the blazer and offer speeches to teammates that are at times emotional, inspirational and even funny. Well then, who better to chat to this week than men who’ve spent several successful lifetimes swaddled in the dressing-room and hopped footballs or hurleys off table-tops in order to jab an emphatic full stop in a blood-bubbling piece of oratory.
Ray Silke is never short of a few words. In the wonderful documentary about Galway’s historic All-Ireland-winning year of 1998, A Year ‘Til Sunday, it’s clear their captain is comfortable in taking the floor to offer a few words — be it on the training ground in midweek or as the studs are clip-clopping out the tunnel on match day. So, what’s the trick?
"The most important thing is conviction, you have to believe what you’re saying," Silke said when I rang him, "I’m a big believer in if you have something to say, say it. It’s important but keep it short — there’s fellas in every dressing room who go on a bit.
"But a good speech does make a difference. You’re trying to touch all the chords — there needs to be a bit of humour, a bit of love and maybe some advice — it’s the same in the dressing room really, there has to be a mix."
Tony Considine, the former Clare boss, has filed from buses to locker rooms with some of hurling’s most vivid characters — particularly those in the famous Clare team of the mid-90s.
"We didn’t really go in for the roaring and shouting in the dressing-room to be honest. I think a lot of the time that’s over-blown and not very productive.
"But we did have men in there who could talk well — Anthony Daly as the captain would say a word and then Ger (Loughnane) maybe would have the last word. But the trick was always to put the arm around the guy who’s going a bit white and say ‘Jaysus, get the bucket for this fella’ and maybe give another guy a stronger word in his ear.
"I’ve given best man speeches at weddings before, certainly. When you get up on Saturday morning, the most important thing is to not get it into your head that you’re going to make a balls of it. Like sport, just stay positive.
"When you look down at the crowd they’re all going to have the same two ears, eyes, the same nose as you. And then just focus on a point in the crowd and just clip away.
"You’ll find something funny on Saturday morning on the way to the wedding or on Friday night when ye’re having the few pints. So include that — the most important thing is to keep them laughing. That’s all anyone will remember at a wedding."
Donal O’Grady — who led Cork to an All-Ireland in 2004 using short puck-outs more than long-winded speeches — agrees with Considine.
"My big thing was always to keep it tight and get your points across. Time is a big factor in a dressing room so you just want to speak clearly and succinctly," he says.
"Players expect a speech a lot of the time. It’s the same as a best man, if you got up tomorrow and said ‘I’m not going to say anything, pal’, there’d be question marks. It’s the same as a manager really.
"Advice? Check with your mates on how long they’ve betted you’ll go on; though that could be construed as insider trading. But just don’t go on too long and try not to offend anyone — that’s all you can do."
And tucking a very apt warning — given the Sunday Game’s role in the disciplinary process these days — into my breast pocket, Silke sends me on my way to the chapel.
"I’d bear in mind that this will probably be taped so mind the language — and I’ve seen people think they’re funny and it’s gone down like a lead balloon. So err on the side of caution and remember that sincerity is very important."
Now please Father, ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll raise your glasses to toast the bride and groom...
