Michael Moynihan: Screens and sports and how one influences the other

But will the availability of streaming facilities see that spike level off? Once the delight at seeing games in the flesh — unmasked, unfiltered, unworried — begins to recede, what about a cold, wet afternoon in March, when the fire is warm and the coffee made and the Dark Chocolate Digestives are all available in the front room?

Now that the end is in sight (kind of), where are the pronouncements about what we learned during the pandemic? Where now the lessons of the last two years?

Best to be careful what you wish for, as some poor drudge is no doubt already scribbling that same column, but that is not your correspondent’s focus this morning as much as a chance remark aimed my way last week.

In conversation with an acquaintance he mentioned a GAA game going on over the (last) weekend, and said he was looking forward to it.

In response I feigned death until he buzzed off — no, in reality, I said that the same game would be a tidy spin for him, and his response was that he’d get a stream of the game.

To this observer, that is one of the big results of the pandemic, the ubiquity of the streaming of games, particularly GAA games. It has meant that a lot of off-Broadway productions have had more coverage than would otherwise be the case — the inter-county pre-season and league games have been served well by TG4 and RTÉ over the years, but the availability of junior county finals all over the country has been a huge development.

And one which raises a lot of questions. The commercial implications for clubs and county boards have yet to play out fully, for instance, but clearly there has been a change in consumption habits. The general wish for normality is likely to lead to a spike in attendances in the short term at least — witness the demand for tickets for the Co-Op Superstores Munster hurling final between Limerick and Clare, for instance.

But will the availability of streaming facilities see that spike level off? Once the delight at seeing games in the flesh — unmasked, unfiltered, unworried — begins to recede, what about a cold, wet afternoon in March, when the fire is warm and the coffee made and the Dark Chocolate Digestives* are all available in the front room?

(*Just me? Fair enough.)

Still, I hear the chorus already suggesting that this eventually finds its level organically: interest in games at all levels has a natural temperature, and once the extraordinary circumstances of the last couple of years recede that temperature reasserts itself.

There may be other side-effects from the availability of so many games on laptop and mobile phone screens, though. What does that do to the perception of the games, of their quality? In that regard I’m always reminded of a passage from Jonathan Wilson’s magisterial Inverting the Pyramid: The History of Football Tactics, probably the best book ever written about soccer.

Wilson quotes the great Argentinean Jorge Valdano: “I heard [the boxer] Carlos Monzón’s trainer, Amilcar Brusa, explain that when a boxer fights on television, it’s crucial he throw many punches, regardless of where they land. That’s because television demands activity.

“It’s the same with football. The game has become more intense than it needs to be. In South America we have the concept of the ‘pause’ in football, the moment of reflection which foreshadows an attack... The problem is that this doesn’t work in the language of television. A moment of low intensity in a televised football game is seen by some as time to change channels.

“So the game is getting quicker and quicker because television demands it.”

If more and more matches are consumed via screens, what impact is that going to have on how those games are played, coached, and refereed? More and more games are being made available to watch via devices rather than in the flesh; will we see unconscious changes in the way the games are officiated and played to make them more palatable to the camera rather than the spectator present in the flesh?

Valdano wasn’t thinking about intermediate football semi-finals and junior county replays (though it’d be interesting to imagine him doing so).

His point stands.

Adios to the misunderstood water break

Farewell, then, to the water break. If recent background noise is anything to go by, these two interruptions in hurling and football games look likely to be shelved soon.

This should at least silence some of the incessant moaning about them, which is something to be grateful for.

Your columnist’s view is that damage they caused — the supposed breaks in continuity or affronts to in-match integrity — is wildly overstated. The moaning and groaning about a brief, scheduled break to a game never seems to be replicated when — how to put this nicely? — one team endures a minor epidemic of cramps and sore hamstrings while defending a narrow lead with just a few minutes on the clock. And coincidentally breaking their opponents’ momentum by doing so.

But no, the big issue is the water break.

Your columnist has a memory of covering a Munster U21 football game between Cork and Kerry a couple of years ago in Tralee — an absolutely scorching evening, with the sweat rolling off all and sundry before the game even began. On that evening the referee, Sean Lonergan of Tipperary, indicated he’d give water breaks and was applauded for his common sense. What’s changed in the meantime?

The water breaks may be taking a break in response to the complaints about them, but they’ll be back soon enough.

Farewell to a Barrs and North Mon legend

Sad news coming in from the southern suburbs of Cork. Donal Hurley passed away a few days back, not long after his beloved St Finbarr’s won that stirring victory over Austin Stacks in the Munster club final.

For those of us who trooped through the North Mon a few decades back, Mr Hurley was a reassuring presence — a terrific teacher and a wise adviser. When we were in his sixth class, he often gave us a gentle jab about the gaps in our knowledge.

“Has anyone here ever heard of Frank O’Connor?”

Silence.

“Well, Frank O’Connor was a writer known all over the world.”

Pause.

“Except, it appears, in Rang a Sé in the North Monastery.”

To give him his due, he filled in a lot of those gaps and equipped us well for life far beyond primary school.

Ar dheis Dé go raibh sé. Sincere condolences to Diarmuid, Donnacha, Orla, and Brian.

A Swift revelation from old hero Carl Bernstein

Only one contestant in the book stakes this week. Carl Bernstein of Watergate fame has released a memoir detailing his early days as a journalist — and early is not an exaggeration.

While still a schoolboy, Bernstein caught on as a copyboy at the Washington Star, then became a dictationist, and was a reporter at 19.

Giving chapter and verse about old-school reporting and old-school reporting tricks will always find favour in this corner, but a couple of other interesting things popped up regarding the book.

Bernstein grew up next door to Ben Stein, a functionary in the Nixon administration, who later found fame portraying a teacher in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (“Anyone? Anyone?”).

In a podcast publicising his memoir, Bernstein also casually referred to his two sons, one of whom works for the New York Times style section, and the other... is Taylor Swift’s guitarist.

The last fact mentioned above impressed two residents of my house far more than any Watergate revelations.

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