OVER THE COURSE of his life as a footballer, pundit and media personality, Eamon Dunphy has always been a deeply divisive figure.

The mixed feelings surrounding the former Ireland international have been reflected this week, with a number of articles in reaction to his decision to leave RTÉ both defending and criticising the 72-year-old analyst.

Dunphy was always highly controversial — before he was calling Ronaldo a “cod,” he was infamously throwing his pen across the RTÉ studio around the time of the 1990 World Cup and at Euro ’84, labelling France star Michel Platini a “good player, not great player”. Even as a footballer, he was perceived as considerably outspoken, wearing a black armband the week after Bloody Sunday during a game for Millwall and campaigning against Ireland’s 1973 tour of South America where they would face a Chile side amid the dictatorship of Augusto Pinochet.

The ex-Ireland international has gained plenty of acclaim for books such as ‘Only a Game,’ a diary from his time at Millwall and his biography of legendary ex-Manchester United manager Matt Busby.

To remain on national TV as a pundit for 40 years is also no mean feat, particularly for an individual who so frequently drew the ire of a significant portion of the viewership.

But love him or hate him, there is no doubt that Dunphy has been an influential figure in Irish football. Former international Kevin Kilbane has spoken on Newstalk about how during his Ireland tenure, Mick McCarthy was frequently keen to know what the panel were saying.

Another Ireland manager, Jack Charlton, actually confronted Dunphy over his negative views on the team, later remarking: “My refusal to answer questions from Dunphy was the biggest mistake I ever made. I made Eamon very, very famous.”

And as regularly as he was mocked by Aprés Match among others, Dunphy was taken seriously too. It is hard to believe the Football Association of Ireland didn’t at least keep half an eye on what the panel had to say. It seems reasonable to believe the infamous excoriation of Terry Venables, the bookies’ favourite to become the new Irish boss at the time, played a role in ruining the manager’s hopes of landing the job.

Yet football has changed significantly in the 40 years that Dunphy has analysed it. People’s attitudes towards criticism have changed too, and certain types of rebuke that were once fair game are now considered below the belt and unnecessary.

As UCD manager Collie O’Neill put it in an interview with this publication last April: “The culture of a dressing room has changed these days. Nowadays, if we’re losing 2 or 3-0 at half-time, you won’t find one player has pinned another against the dressing room by the throat. Those days are gone.

“We’ve found [the dressing room is] an awful lot more of a quieter place and the players themselves question you a lot more.”

Alex Ferguson also noted a cultural shift towards the end of his time in management. “I’ve mellowed a great deal,” he said. “The world has changed and so have players’ attitudes. I’m dealing with more fragile human beings than I used to be.

“They are cocooned by modern parents, agents, even their own image at times.

“They need to be seen with their tattoos and earrings. Some players even cry now in the dressing room — [former captain] Bryan Robson never used to cry.”

You could argue that these changes apply somewhat to punditry too.

Whereas once, criticism of a player genuinely was ‘water off a duck’s back,’ as one of Dunphy’s recurring targets, James McCarthy, has been known to say, nowadays footballers and people in general are more sensitive beings.

Dunphy’s fiery brand of criticism doesn’t sit quite so easily amid this millennial-populated backdrop and his stinging words frequently bother the subjects along with many neutral observers.

Even a little more than 10 years ago, Dunphy saying “would you trust him to drive the train to Cork?” in relation to Steve Staunton may have seemed witty and harmless to many, but shifting cultural attitudes would probably lead some people to regard it as cruel and unfairly kicking a failing manager when he’s down.

While the veteran pundit has been irritating people for decades, he has invariably had defenders in high places who in many instances encouraged his abrasive style.

Yet even this behind-the-scenes support appears to have been not so strong in recent years. In a revealing column this week with the Irish Star, Dunphy accused the station of “losing its nerve,” adding: “RTÉ is a very different place now. It’s a place that lives in fear of keyboard warriors on Twitter or Facebook.”

Dunphy’s departure coincides with the recent appointment of a new Head of Sport at RTÉ, Declan McBennett, who recently told Gaelic Life that the station would “not tolerate personalised attacks on players or managers”.

In contrast with the old days when it felt as if almost any type of criticism was tolerated, the station now appears to be taking an approach more akin to British broadcasters such as Sky and the BBC, where a more diplomatic form of analysis is embraced. Dunphy clearly deplores this more sanitised form of punditry — in a 2004 interview with The Guardian, he said of Sky: “Apart from Andy Gray, the people they get in to offer so-called-analysis are useless — they must think their viewers are total vegetables.”

So had he chosen to stay on, it would have been difficult to imagine Dunphy and RTÉ co-existing peacefully. His resultant departure from the national broadcaster feels like a sign of the times.

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