THE FIRST DAY OUT, it was an expedition from the Ring Gaeltacht in Waterford, all the way to Ballybofey for TG4 – TnaG in those days – to cover the Donegal football final.
It involved two trucks; one for the satellite link, another for the rigging, a trailer for the generator to provide power and a minibus of 20 people.
Brendan Devenney scored 0-14 as St Eunan’s beat Aodh Ruadh. His performance wasn’t exactly captured for posterity as a power failure made a balls of the broadcast. Four days after they left, the last of the travelling jamboree made it back to base, as bruised and shocked as a roadie crew at the end of a Mötley Crüe tour.
A quick lick of the wounds and they were off to Offaly county hurling final the following weekend. Lessons had been taken on board. They were on the road to cover all the trifling, piffling little GAA battles that the bigger beasts in broadcasting turned their noses up at.
In the meantime, TG4 have established themselves as darlings of the nation for their GAA coverage. The continuity of Brian Tyers on commentary and Micheál Ó Domhnaill bringing an end to a live broadcast has become this generation’s feeling of Sunday evening dread that used to be the preserve of Glenroe.
Some 25 years have passed since that wet half-week in Donegal. This weekend, they are bound for the quarter-finals of the Dublin hurling championship.
It’s a bigger beast now. Slicker and experienced.
Their very first venture into covering sport was a rights package cobbled together to obtain some Spanish League footage of the mid-90s, the era of Romario, the Original Ronaldo and Raúl and dub it over with Irish commentary. It was nimble and inventive. It got them noticed.
It was the brainchild of Irial Mac Murchu who was the show’s editor and producer and co-founder of Nemeton. He was having difficulty negotiation a package and so drafted in his old Spanish-speaking friend, Ó Domhnaill.
He had been a teacher, from the same corner of Waterford. One day when he was working in Dublin, a flatmate came home with news of a notice in a shop asking for teachers to work in Spain.
He applied, got it and headed off for three years to Pamplona, where he would travel the length and breadth of the country and watch plenty of soccer.
Then he came back, only to find himself heading off every couple of weeks to Spain to broadcast by the side of a pitch. He’d find himself knocking a ball to Rivaldo to take a throw-in and later ask him, “Any chance of a quick word for the people in Ireland, Rivaldo?”
It was seat of the pants, punk rockers stuff.
Nemeton, the production company, was half a dozen employees back then. Every worker was head chef and chief bottle washer.
Now, there’s a panel of around 40. A couple of years back, someone informed Ó Domhnaill that they had reached the 1,000 live games benchmark.
“At some point you are going to figure out how to do it,” he says now.
They are like a veteran band now. All it takes is a nod and a look to read situations. If they go off-script they always find their way back for the chorus. They have it worked out.
Nothing causes more consternation among the viewers however, than a camera with rain spattered on it. It’s enough to get TG4 trending as sofa-bound viewers vent for the sake of venting.
What they don’t realise is that it’s the same crew, the same technology and cameras that are used to shoot the All Ireland finals in July.
The difference is they are out in the open on February and March afternoons in Salthill, Omagh and Killarney. When the wind whips up to 40k/ph and a camera operator is suspended in mid air on a cherry picker behind the goals, their main concern is keeping body and soul together.
As far as he can recollect, there was only one day when they looked at a rigging swaying in the wind, and made the call that it was simply too much.
It was a high bar, given the number of times they have broadcast from the likes of Ballybofey and seen the uprights swinging like a boisterous crowd at a wedding and still got on with it.
Another time they were in Markievicz Park and the rain came spilling down from Ben Bulben. Out of six cameras, five failed.
Who could also forget last year in Newry when Glen and Kilmacud were playing the All Ireland club football semi final in what Shoot! magazine used to call a ‘real pea-souper’.
“Where I was standing, right on the edge of the field, I could barely make out shadows on the far side of the pitch and the far corners, I couldn’t make out at all. Our commentary team were 30 metres back and I have no idea how they figured out where anything was,” says Ó Domhnaill.
Must be something about Pairc Esler. Only last year, they were faced with another challenge as they got ready for the Down county final. There was an issue in that a Kilcoo objection over Paul Faloon’s appointment as referee led to Faloon dropping out and forced the Down county board to recruit David Gough for the duty.
After some consideration and having spoken to some refereeing colleagues, Gough decided against it. Eventually Down convinced Brendan Rice to do it. The broadcasters barely noticed, they were so locked into their process.
The hairiest affair? That would be early 2006 when they went to Omagh to cover the visit of The Dubs to face reigning All Ireland champions Tyrone.
Dublin manager Pillar Caffrey had designs on not taking a backward step. Tyrone had no interest in obliging. It became known as ‘The Battle of Omagh.’
“We were still trying to figure things out. The game happened the way it did and it erupted at the end,” says Ó Domhnaill.
“We got caught in the whole maelstrom at the end. I remember Mickey Harte coming over to do an interview and he was still really angry at what had happened on the field of play. And then he had some guy asking him a question about something he took exception to. And he was very short in his answers.
“On that particular occasion I suppose everybody should have just been taken away into a room and asked to take a few deep breaths.
“But it was an unmanageable end of the game. The stewarding was gone. Players were getting into the stands, remonstrating with each other. It could really have kicked off.
“It was just one of those days where you wanted people to get out the gate and go home.”
The most joyous for him was a personal one when Ballygunnar came with a late rally and caught Ballyhale with a final haymaker in the 2022 All Ireland club final.
Being a Waterford man himself, it was joyous to see Harry Ruddle plunder the goal with the final play of the game.
Going back to 2005, he will never forget David Brady’s post-match interview when his Ballina had beaten Portlaoise in the club football final.
After having lost six All-Ireland finals, he erupted with emotion.
“I left the microphone in for a second longer because I thought he had something else to say, and he said, ‘I’m not a loser anymore’.
“And he probably said that to himself and doubted himself over the years and here he was walking away from Croke Park with an All Ireland,” says Ó Domhnaill.
Unquestionably, the most uncomfortable moment was during the National League of 2012. Donegal were facing Laois in Letterkenny. As is their custom, TG4 asked both managers over for a pre-game chat.
Providing analysis on the day was Kevin Cassidy, whom McGuinness had expelled from the team the previous November.
Two nights before the game, Cassidy was a guest on TG4’s Seó Spóirt, when he was asked about a potential return to the Donegal panel, which he ruled out.
With Cassidy standing close by, Ó Domhnaill asked McGuinness about the situation. A wide-angle lens displayed all three men in the shot.
The scene and the exchanges were toe-curlingly cringeworthy. McGuinness has not personally co-operated with TG4 ever since.
“Jim McGuinness must have been the only person in Letterkenny who didn’t know Kevin Cassidy was on our panel,” recalls Ó Domhnaill.
“He came over and you could see he was surprised when he seen Kevin there. So I think he caught himself out a little in terms of he was a bit unsettled, and he would have been focussed on getting the game up and running.
“The interview went . . . It wasn’t what anybody wanted and wasn’t what he wanted. I think he felt afterwards that we had tried to catch him out. We did exactly what we do with any manager which is to ask them to come over.
“It just so happened he was there, Kevin was there, and I asked Jim what he thought of Kevin’s statement on Seo Spoirt. And he just left it. I can’t remember exactly what his answer was.
“And since then he hasn’t spoken to us. That’s his right obviously. He doesn’t bar Donegal from speaking to us. But he is the only intercounty manager in 25 years of broadcasting who doesn’t do an interview with TG4.”
There’s little doubt that McGuinness has shaped Gaelic football in a way that not every game is, well, particularly fun.
That means that when it comes to broadcasting, presenters, analysts and commentators have to do a bit of heavy lifting to make it sound that anyone wants to be there.
While football has changed, the language around it has adapted. Sometimes not all of what you see is how it seems, according to the competition, says Ó Domhnaill.
“The knockout games we do, like with the club when it comes to championship time, everything is on the line. Sometimes the football and hurling are not going to be that great, but you know lads are going to go to the ends of the earth to try to get a win,” he says.
“When it comes to the league, teams are testing things out and it is going to be really interesting if the new rules come in, as to how teams are going to adapt to those in the early stages of the league.
“But usually they are testing new players and once they manage to stay safe, sometimes teams can switch off and maybe not think that a league final is the best thing for them if they have championship the next week.
“Those games are more difficult to analyse as you are wondering what exactly is in play. Is a team having an off day? Is a team peaking too early? So the league is a strange beast as you are never quite sure what you are seeing is the real thing.”
Despite that, he wouldn’t swap it for your job or mine, working weekends or not. The most conflict at home, he says, is the cupboards busting full of TG4 waterproof gear and his refusal to throw anything out.
“I suppose the acid test is how you feel when the rain is coming down and you are sitting in the car to head off to Portlaoise or whatever,” he reasons.
His process is while he makes the big drive from Sligo, to listen to a Podcast, preferably one from the competing counties where the locals can get under the skin of a fixture.
“I can honestly say there hasn’t been a single day when I haven’t been looking forward to that.”
He adds: “Sure look, you can’t beat live sport. You have to perform on the day. You couldn’t call it stress, but it is constructive nerves. You want to have an edge.
“You have the best seat in the house and a responsibility to report on what you see in front of you and it means you have to ask the managers uncomfortable questions at times and try to call the game in the way the viewer at home might need you to do to explain what happens.”
25 years down. Here’s to another.
