Colin Sheridan: Pat Spillane at 70 - the last great unscripted man of Irish sport
Eight-time senior All-Ireland medal winner Pat Spillane watches the closing stages of the Táilteann Cup match between Sligo and Tipperary in Tubbercurry. Pic: Ray McManus/Sportsfile
There’s a particular type of Irish sporting legend who becomes bigger the further removed they are from their playing days. The medals fade, the numbers blur, and the archival footage recedes into grainy myth. What’s left is presence: the man on the box, the voice in the studio, the personality that becomes part of the national furniture. Pat Spillane, turning 70 today, is firmly in that category - one of the last men in Irish life who could lob a verbal grenade on live television and then smile serenely as the shrapnel rearranged the nation's seating position.
His footballing brilliance came first, of course. Before he became the country’s favourite sideline philosopher, Spillane was one of the most celebrated forwards Gaelic games has ever seen. Eight All-Irelands, nine All-Stars, a career that seemed written by someone who considered modesty a dispensable virtue. He played with a sort of joyful ruthlessness, a sense that the game was most beautiful when bent to his will. Kerry football in that era had a way of convincing you that genius could be an everyday thing. Spillane was proof.
