Michael Moynihan: Mícheál Ó Muircheartaigh joins the roll call of GAA immortals whose names will live forever

Few could be called the voice of a sport, but Mícheál Ó Muircheartaigh was certainly more than deserving of that accolade

Mícheál Ó Muircheartaigh in the commentary box before the Munster Senior Hurling Championship final, Waterford v Limerick, Semple Stadium, Thurles, Co Tipperary in July 2007. Picture: Brendan Moran / Sportsfile

The press boxes of Ireland’s GAA stadia are not always home to wide-eyed innocence, to put it delicately, but the arrival of one man in venues from Clones to Cork always had the effect of reducing the level of cynicism pretty quickly.

Mícheál Ó Muircheartaigh, who died on Monday at the age of 93, commanded respect in Semple Stadium, Croke Park, and all points in between. 

Fittingly for a man who spent decades keeping control of a classful of children, the tall man from Dún Síon had a presence which calmed the nervy and quelled the noisy, a personal quality which went beyond the obvious and visible.

This is no exaggeration. 

Mícheál and his wife Helena celebrate his 90th birthday on Dún Síon beach in August 2020. Picture: Domnick Walsh

A few years ago there was a kerfuffle of sorts when a video of Mícheál making a ham sandwich gained traction online — viewers all over the world marvelled at his soothing tones, in which they found the perfect antidote to our frantic age. 

For those of us who had already spent decades listening to the famous voice, this was hardly a revelation.

The power of that voice was undeniable, though its gentle cadences could be a surprise when he was asking you to pass the milk for a cuppa in Croke Park rather than describing an aerial duel in the middle of the field. 

Still, the rising tone and growing urgency of his match commentaries derived much of their power from starting so calmly.

On that point, for those of us reared on his Irish language coverage of All-Ireland minor finals, the use of the State’s second official tongue could take some getting used to.

The famous one-liners now known to all were delivered in English, but his fáilte go Páirc an Chrócaigh was synonymous for decades with those underage deciders of early autumn. 

That west Kerry accent would be the first to announce some names that would graduate in time to senior stardom, but even for those who never reached that level there was the pure joy of having one’s name enunciated by Mícheál in commentary, each syllable articulated perfectly.

Mícheál relaxes before his last All Ireland final between Cork and Down before his retirement in 2010. Picture: Inpho/Donall Farmer

In later years, when this writer got to know him, Mícheál was both a courteous colleague engaged in the vital work of the present as well as a visible link to the near-mythical combat of the distant past. 

Having him near you at Semple Stadium was like sitting near a witness to the Spartan defence of Thermopylae: no matter how remote the game he could offer a perspective.

In conversation with him once in Croke Park, I mentioned in passing my father had been on the Cork minor football side that played Galway in the 1960 All-Ireland final, the game before the famous breakthrough senior victory of Down over Kerry later the same day.

Never mind that we were talking about an obscure curtain-raiser which had taken place almost 50 years before: he asked what position Moynihan Sr had been playing for Cork.

“Full-forward.” 

“He had a good test with Noel Tierney, then.” [Correct, of course.] Given the size of Ireland, many readers no doubt met Mícheál over the years — in Killarney and Limerick, and along Jones Road in Dublin, not to mention in places like Shelbourne Park, given his love of greyhound racing. 

They also met him on beaches and in train carriages, in parked cars and after Mass — in all of their encounters with those match commentaries.

For myself, a couple of years ago when working on a documentary series on the story of hurling, I asked Mícheál if he’d agree to participate, and he did. 

When director Gerry Nelson was puzzling out whose voice to use in the opening moments of the first episode, there was an obvious choice, with the inimitable voice intoning that hurling was a game for the gods. We were away.

Later on in that episode, he narrated a roll call of immortals.

“Their names would live forever. Christy Ring of Cork. Lory Meagher of Kilkenny. Jimmy Doyle. John Doyle. King Henry.

“The dead who shall live forever. And the living who shall never die.” 

Add another name to that list.

Slán a Mhíchíl.