Genetic weakness knows no cure

One of the more delightful aspects of Michael O Muircheartaigh's radio commentaries is the wonderful lapse from the frenzied, incisive description to those cosy fireside tangents, colourful asides on the quirks and habits of the stars. If you listen this Sunday though, don't be too surprised if he offers a slightly deeper insight into Kildare's physiotherapist. Don't start if he blithely informs you what the guy's first spoken word was, that he never forgets his mother's birthday, that he has a crazy system for washing dishes or was caught sneaking out to a party late one night in the 1980s.

Eamon O Muircheartaigh, son of the venerable raconteur, has been looking after Lilywhite limbs for two years now. To the players, he has been blessed with the hands of God, carries miracle potions in his black leather bag and breaks bad news gently. To them, he leaves old Rasputin, well, for dead when it comes to healing powers and the panel have so much faith in him that a call from Glenn Hoddle seems inevitable. He acquaints them with elements of their physique they never knew existed and restores vitality to sinews apparently destined for the retirement home. He is, in short, an integral part of the Kildare set-up.

"I don't really regard it as a job at all. I mean, the preparation which goes into organising an inter-county squad is just savage, it is a professional set-up but there is a lot of craic to be had out of this bunch and we have been through so much over the past two years, that the whole journey has become fascinating," he explains from his practice, the Maynooth Physiotherapy and Sports Injury Clinic.

It is a busy sort of fun. Since last September, Eamon has been finishing work in Maynooth and spinning down to the Curragh for training, four nights a week. Grinding six-mile runs under the stars and laborious gym work passed the dark nights and led into the League games.

"The type of injuries you deal with obviously depends on the time of year. You get a lot of dead legs, hamstrings and groin injuries when the ground is heavy, while in the summer, with fast games on hard turf, you deal with things like collarbone casualties, with lads hitting the ground."

Physiotherapy, he says, has undergone something of a metamorphosis in recent times. During darker years, the sight of a burly medic trundling across field with the sodden sponge in his fist and fire in his eyes often did enough in itself to hasten a player's recovery. For the seriously slain, the mauled limb was doused thoroughly with water, the concussed mind was treated to a few brief facial whacks and encouraging words based on pride and masculinity which served as adequately as plaster Paris.

"I'm sure that it still looks the same, when you see someone running out with water or a spray can or whatever, but methods and technique have developed hugely over the past decade."

Take the case of Kildare's Christy Byrne, who ripped a hamstring (there was no such thing as hamstrings in my day) and faced missing Sunday's semi-final through the six-week healing process. The day after he sustained the injury, Eamon had him travelling to Newry.

"They have a hyper-baric oxygen treatment facility there, basically a decompression chamber which accelerates the healing process by 70 per cent."

Christy spent 90 minutes breathing pure air and then headed back south for testing.

"I purchased this machine, an Isokinetics unit which I think is absolutely essential now. At the moment, it's the only one in the country. Effectively, it is a computerised training facility which can assess damage as a player runs at half-pace, three-quarter stretch and at full-out sprint. Also, it compares the damaged tissue with the healthy equivalent so you can determine if a player is fit, how long they might last, how long they'll need to recover," he explains.

In a couple of weeks Byrne's hamstring damage has dropped from 65 per cent to 15 per cent and he is now deemed probable for the All-Ireland semi-final.

As the emphasis on fitness and the pressure to recuperate intensifies, players themselves naturally become au fait with the science of their sport. If they hit the deck, they often realise the extent of their injury.

O Muircheartaigh is approaching Sunday with the same keenness as the players. He always kicked ball himself, growing up with St Bridget's in Blanchardstown before switching to Maynooth. He is steeped in GAA lore and reckons that his relationship with the games runs so deeply that he really couldn't imagine life without them. Guess that some weaknesses just aren't for curing.