PROFILE: EAMON DUNPHY:For a man who prides himself on nailing the mindset of the common man, the broadcaster at the centre of yet another explosive punditry incident manages to cut himself a pretty exclusive deal, writes KATHY SHERIDAN
WHAT DOES IT say about Eamon Martin Dunphy and the state of Irish punditry that a man heading for pensionable age, after a quarter of a century of fulmination, can still silence the nation’s pubs with a throwaway word about football? The 13-minute studio discussion after the Ireland-Italy game last Saturday – a draw, which left us sitting pretty for the World Cup play-offs, lest we forget – had the customary hangdog air about it. Our lot were “totally outclassed”, said Johnny Giles, Italy “showed us how to play . . . They would have felt suicidal if they hadn’t got something” out of the game.
Dunphy weighed in with something similar, boosted with just a whisper of hyperbole – a whisper by Dunphy standards: “Terrible performance . . . shameful . . . great start . . . never played after the first 15 minutes . . . Crowd getting really uptight . . . Italy controlled the whole game.” He singled out several players for praise, remarking on a “brilliant” set-piece by Stephen Hunt, before knocking lumps out of manager Giovanni Trapattoni, mainly for banishing Andy Reid to the sidelines. No surprises there then.
Yet who got the front page banners? Not Gilesy for talking flippantly about suicide or saying that our lot were outclassed. It was Dunphy, of course, for using the word "shameful". Would anyone at all have noticed if Stephen Hunt – he of the "brilliant" set-piece – hadn't taken the bait by calling Dunphy a "skinny little rat"? Nonetheless, on Wednesday, it was a vaguely apologetic Dunphy who talked to the nation on Morning Ireland, wryly noting that "Stephen Hunt's not exactly Mr Universe", agreeing that "shameful" was "not the right word to use for Ireland's performance but was appropriate to what was happening to Andy Reid".
Not for the first time, observers marvelled at Dunphy's talent for hurling a little improvised explosive among the talking heads, stamping another Dunphy-sized imprint in the consciousness of Star-reading, white-van man, all of it nurturing those extraordinary pay deals that make him the envy of Irish journalism.
Can the little explosive devices be just happy accidents? "Oh, he would absolutelyplan those eruptions," says a former colleague, who recalls how Dunphy handled matters in 2005 when an expected improvement in listenership figures for his Newstalk show failed to materialise. "The station heads, of course, were dreading what the papers were going to do to them and Dunphy. But that night Dunphy was on television doing a football gig and – I remember this, because the pub I was in went totally silent – he suddenly went off on a completely unexpected rant about Niall Quinn. Totally out of the blue. And guess what? The next day's coverage was all about Niall Quinn and what was said. You'd have had to search very hard for the listenership figures."
HE IS A master at self-publicity and reinvention, says another who knows him well. “The way he sparked off the Hunt incident is a perfect case in point, kicking off at the team even though they played out of their skins. Mentally, Dunphy would have said to himself: ‘I’m going to be different this time.’ Yet if you watched him after Wednesday’s game , he was very calm, very complimentary about the character of the team, even though the match was a non-event. It mightn’t make a lot of sense when you think about it, but that’s what he’s paid for.”
The unpredictability and vitriolic outbursts are all part of the stock in trade, and Dunphy can be relied on for spectacular U-turns: Cristiano Ronaldo soared in a year from “simple cheat” and “poof ball” to “the real deal . . . something special”. Roy Keane plunged from “gentleman . . . class act . . . rebel . . .” to “bullshitter”.
Of course, Dunphy does not confine himself to vulgar abuse of footballers. He recently described the Minister for Children, Barry Andrews, as “a creep” and Andrews’s cousin, Ryan Tubridy, as a product of a family of “chinless wonders”. But he is admired by media professionals for his influence on current affairs broadcasting, with his stints on Today FM’s drivetime show and later on Newstalk 106.
"He mastered the art of combining intelligent, important social commentary with entertainment," says one associate. "He won't come across as the worthy intellectual talking about Nama. In his head, Dunphy can locate the guy from Mullingar who's in negative equity and is pissed off with the Government, and he can nail that guy's mindset and where he's coming from. He is the best at doing that." He was an innovator when he presented Today FM's The Last Word. "He used to set himself up as a David versus Goliath thing, taking on Eircom on behalf of the shareholders, fighting for the man in the street."
One example of his premeditated common-man schtick was when Newstalk introduced a 15-cent charge for texts to the station (fairly standard in the industry and part of the station’s ongoing battle to pay the wages). Although the charge had been well-flagged to him, his on-air outrage on behalf of listeners was an entertainment in itself. “It was a terrific act. He could play the common-man act even through he was on nearly €300,000 a year,” says the associate.
While his radio listenership figures resisted improvement, he remained a magnet for advertisers, say insiders. His shows commanded impressive advertising rates. For all that, his ability to negotiate such handsome deals for himself – which, contrary to common belief, is an unusual skill in non-RTÉ journalists – speaks of a man as robust in private matters as he is in public.
“Robust? No, he’s not,” insists one who has dealt with him. “He has an agent who does all that for him. Eamon Dunphy would never go face to face on that kind of stuff. He’s a no-confrontation guy; a real pussycat.” The agent is Cormac Gordon, a partner in Ivor Fitzpatrick solicitors, specialising in corporate tax, EU, and competition and securitisation law. Hardly a common man . . .
UNUSUALLY, DUNPHY probably overplayed his hand when Newstalk was about to go national. Perceived as its major asset, his calculation that he could command a higher fee met unyielding resistance, and he and the station parted ways.
“From an editorial point of view, it was a disaster . . . But it probably wasn’t great for him either. I think he would certainly have liked to front the station at that stage,” says one associate.
Still, if last year's earnings figures from RTÉ are a measure, Dunphy and/or his agent remain wreathed in pixie dust. For what appears to be an undemanding, pre-recorded, one-hour "Conversations with . . ." show and occasional football punditry, he made more than €328,000 in 2008, €110,000 more than Sean O'Rourke on News at One.
In fairness, Dunphy would be the first to point to the absurdity of that and – as a gifted writer – to the extraordinary divergence in earnings between the “stars” in print and broadcast journalism.
The fact that he remains so prominent illustrates the dearth of “good, decent commentators who haven’t been tarnished in business or politics, people who can pick a subject and talk about it” coming up in younger generations, says a senior media figure. “Where are those new voices?”
As for Dunphy, all the signs are that he is leading a quieter life, with some describing him as “semi-retired”. The wild man who made Renards nightclub a home from home for many years married his long-term partner, RTÉ commissioning editor Jane Gogan, a few weeks ago at a wedding which included some of the production staff he started out with in broadcasting. He is also working on a book, whose subject matter remains a closely guarded secret. He is still some way from semi-retired.
CV EAMON DUNPHY
Who?Eamon Dunphy, 64-year-old author, broadcaster, soccer pundit.
Why in the news?He said Ireland's performance against Italy was "shameful".
Least likely to say: "Yeah, I said Trapattoni's appointment was the best day in Irish history. I still think that."
Most likely to say:"Yeah, I said Trapattoni's appointment was the best day in Irish history. He's a bloody disgrace."