A new kid in town sparks a feeding frenzy
Full-back Sean Murray’s unusual top-knot of hair has drawn the eye of many observers in the Dubs’ spring series of games, but that attention was nothing compared to the focus which is destined to fall on him following the squad’s press day last week.
In the course of a routine grilling from assembled hacks, Murray was asked if he was a fan of the Dubs growing up, had he followed them on TV, etc.
Murray said that he didn’t watch television growing up and that his family didn’t have a set in the house.
O foolish man! The reaction in newspaper sportsdesks all over the country was akin to the scene in The Simpsons when Homer uses the company credit card to order room service: a siren explodes in Mr Burns’ office, and he unleashes the flying monkeys.
Gentle reader, you will not want to be burdened with the complaints of the Fourth Estate, but the prospect of a GAA interview subject with a different take on mundane matters is as rare as a... well, a GAA interview subject etc., with a different, etc.
If you have been at All-Ireland final press nights and seen a player drumming his fingers with boredom even as he outlines the huge thrill of lining out in September, then you would understand the sudden level of interest in Mr Murray.
Offering that morsel condemns the Dublin full-back to a lengthy career of his TV-less childhood surfacing in the match overviews and team profiles, though maybe ‘condemn’ is the wrong word. After all, the journalist’s burning need to keep a good interview prospect viable means that unless Murray kicks three own goals in the Dubs’ next league game, he need never worry about a bad review in any Irish newspaper, or indeed any media outlet outside of the Al-Jazeera Kids TV channel, though we may be overstating Murray’s genius when we make that case.
On the other hand, the young man is also a student of advanced physics. Truly he is the gift that keeps on giving.
One practice Murray may have inadvertently murdered, however, is The Agreement. Many readers will not be familiar with this concept, so let us help. At an inter-county team’s press evening, usually the manager, a selector or two, the team captain and maybe three players turn up.
After a few pleasantries the assorted newspaper journalists present descend on the victims and milk them for quotes.
Harvest completed, all concerned then return to the relevant county board’s little spread of ham sandwiches and Goldgrain biscuits, and eventually one brave soul pipes up.
“Manager for Saturday, so?”
And then it begins, a quick round of horse-trading wherein the interview deemed best is held for the Saturday before the game in question and a sequence for the publication of the other interviews is hammered out. This is The Agreement.
The Agreement usually survives until about Wednesday on the week of the game in question, when some sports editor asks his GAA writer what he’s got for the weekend’s big game.
“Well, player X for Thursday,” says the reporter. “Player Y for Friday, then the manager for Saturday.”
“The manager? Any good?”
“Very good.”
“We’ll use him Thursday, so.”
“Ah,” says the reporter. “But, see... there’s The Agreement.”
The sports editor’s reply is usually a brisk three words, with ‘The Agreement’ being the last two words used in the sentence.
When the manager interview duly surfaces in one newspaper on the Thursday there is a round of sarcastic texts and pointed emails and a long list of people swearing off such agreements in the future, an oath that usually lasts precisely until the next press day.
However, with such a premium on decent interviews, someone like Sean Murray is destined to destroy any putative agreements. If someone as interesting as this is to appear at a press day, then all bets are off.
And no harm, either.
In other news, yours truly got himself along to the launch of ‘The All Star Wars’ at the Opera House, Cork, last week. This production, written by Brian Flynn and Kevin McCormack, is billed as the first hurling musical and looks a good night out when it opens next month.
It also gives us the slimmest excuse possible to throw out our favourite theatrical anecdote: when Neil Simon started writing plays, he asked Mike Nichols to direct his first effort. An out-of-town tryout for the show didn’t go well and the two men set to work trying to fix the problem, until Nichols brought the late-night work to a halt.
“I think I’ll need some ice cream,” he said.
“At a time like this you want ice cream?” said Simon.
“What?” asked Nichols, “I can’t think of a solution if I have some ice cream?”
This column remains a big Mike Nichols fan.
* Contact: michael.moynihan@examiner.ie Twitter: MikeMoynihanEx.
