Hero of Moscow: Alan Kelly's marker

RADIO REVIEW: SPORT ISN'Ta matter of life and death; it's much funnier than that. If Off the Ball (Newstalk, weekdays) were to have a motto, it would probably be such a rejigged version of Bill Shankly's dictum on the importance of football (itself a misquote, but that's another story). Although the nightly show reflects the exhilaration and pain felt by sports fans better than any other radio programme, its distinguishing feature is the irreverence that runs through its three hours.

In the aftermath of the Republic of Ireland’s astonishing nil-all draw in Moscow on Tuesday, most observers focused on the dogged resistance of the Irish back line. As

Tom Dunne

(Newstalk, weekdays) put it the next day, “The Russians haven’t seen defending like that since Leningrad.” The

Off the Ball

team, however, took a different tack. Opening Tuesday’s show, presenters Eoin McDevitt and Ciaran Murphy, who had the giddy exhilaration of men who had had a near-miss, spoke only fleetingly about the heroics of Richard Dunne and Shay Given in defence.

Instead, they concentrated on the “third hero”, goalkeeping coach Alan Kelly, who had to pen a number on to Dunne’s replacement shirt at the referee’s insistence. “It’s not like he’s drawing on a huge cartoonist’s desk with all the crayons on one side,” said Murphy, chuckling. “This was a highly pressurised atmosphere.”

More conventional coverage followed, as soccer correspondent Ken Early reported on the match from Moscow. But even here a skewed quality prevailed.

Amid the analysis, there was a lengthy (and amused) discussion about the tie-removing celebrations of FAI chief executive John Delaney. The following night, Early mused that Delaney was “reimagining” his FAI role.

There is more to Off the Ballthan daft humour. Anchored with casual confidence by McDevitt, the show gives in-depth coverage to headline topics as well as offbeat sports, has perceptive pundits – former Ireland star Paul McGrath gave a characteristically modest assessment of the Moscow game – and is a lively fan forum.

The show also looks at the darker side of sport. On Wednesday Ian McKinley, a Leinster player who recently quit rugby after losing the sight in his left eye, spoke to McDevitt about his decision. He calmly described his horrific original injury (a team-mate stood on his eyeball in a ruck), the operations that followed and his brief return to the game. Though he felt he had no choice in his decision, McKinley was still upset: there was an audible lump in his throat as he spoke about the team environment he had left. The item avoided sentimentality but was a stark illustration of the risks players face.

Such arresting items allow the show to indulge its quirks, such as the double act of McDevitt and Early. Ostensibly a soccer slot, the programme’s last hour is marked by the conversational tangents of the two men. Among the topics covered on Wednesday night were Early’s ability to sleep on public transport, how Dublin looked like “an impoverished dwarf city” beside Moscow’s “imperial scale” and how the Viking Splash Tour, the Dublin tourist attraction, exploited its customers by getting them to cheer at passersby.

As they chewed the fat over a bubbling jazz-fusion backdrop, McDevitt and Early sounded less like sports pundits than characters from a lost Luis Buñuel film or a Flann O'Brien novel. This is the key to Off the Ball's appeal. Like most sports fans, the presenters may be slightly loopy about their subject, but they know it's only a game.

On Sunday Marian Finucane(RTÉ Radio 1, Saturday and Sunday) hosted a discussion with compelling diversions of its own. Back from her holiday, during which Claire Byrne made for a coolly engaging guest host, Finucane delivered a reminder of her particular strengths. Striking a chatty tone with Celia Larkin, the presenter asked Bertie Ahern's former partner what she thought of the former taoiseach's churlish remarks distancing himself from the crash.

“I wish he’d ever shut up when those headlines come out,” said Larkin. “He doesn’t do himself any favours.” Finucane went on to elicit telling details about Ahern, such as his Delphic reaction to ideas he disagreed with. “Bertie would just look at you and nod,” Larkin said, pretty much summing up the way he handled the property bubble.

Finucane later showed her more impulsive side. When Sen Ronan Mullen complained that Enda Kenny’s speech condemning the Vatican had taken papal remarks out of context and amounted to “character assassination”, Finucane could not hide her indignation. “Ah well now, hold on,” she blurted, lambasting Mullen for “talking about character assassination in the context of what the church presided over in this country”.

A barrister by training, Mullen did not take this rebuttal lying down, accusing his host of “ratcheting up the outrage” and “unconsciously” having an agenda. But Mullen was soon obliterated.

“I do have an agenda, actually,” said Finucane, “about protecting young children and not doing cover-ups.” It was a supremely emotive comeback, but it was game, set and match to Finucane.

Radio moment of the week

In the run-up to the 10th anniversary of 9/11, Documentary on One: Victim No 0001(RTÉ Radio 1, Saturday) looked at the momentous events of that day through the prism of the life of New York fire-department chaplain Fr Mychal Judge, the first official victim of the twin-towers attack.

Produced by Yvonne Judge (no relation), the documentary focused on the priest’s remarkable story. An ex-alcoholic Irish-American, he mixed with Aids victims, firefighters and presidents. After his death his legacy became more complex as it emerged that he was gay. In telling us about one lost life, this fine documentary underlined the enormity of the 9/11 crimes.