Kerr is last word in commentary
WELL, I’m certainly going to miss the World Cup, if for no other reason than the loss of Brian Kerr’s commentary. In fact, his unique pronunciation of Croatian midfielder Luka Modric’s name is now so ingrained in my memory, I find myself attempting to imitate it at the strangest times of the day. And I’m not the only one, it seems, with a social media crusade already campaigning to have a ‘Book of Kerr’ enshrined as a national treasure. An individual whose passion for the beautiful game has given full flight to a thrilling thesaurus entirely of his own, Kerr (inset) enlivened many a dull game from Russia with a sporting glossary destined to live on far beyond the final whistle.
“That lad’s always looking for a fight – if he was on his own in a phone box he’d phone the operator to have a row,” is one of the best descriptions of an ill temperament I’ve ever heard, matched by his explanation of modern on-pitch surgery: “That’s the stuff you normally use for wrappin’ up your sandwiches, but today it fixes your torn hamstring.” Kerr’s Dublin roots inform his every utterance in a conversational stew, where a genuine deep knowledge of the game is frequently enlivened with a pinch of colloquial salt: “Well, he didn’t shoot him or knife him, but he’s after going down as if he was battered.”
And, as for the tongue-twisting nature of Eastern European nomenclature, his one-liners have no equal: “Stefan Milinkovic-Stefan – and that’s only one bloke.” Genius. Over the last few weeks, the Irish nation has been treated to such an addictive range of expression – dunt, ging, blem and mush (shove, attempt, wild shot and face) – we’ll all be ‘banjoed’ for entertainment now that such Kerr-isms are at an end.
But all is not lost – the GAA season is starting to simmer nicely, and with it the histrionics of hurling commentator John Mullane – an individual whose crashtackle confrontations with the English language add further manly inches to the on-pitch legend that was his with the Déise.
Famous for encapsulating a never-say-die attitude articulated as “I loves me county,” the man affectionately known as ‘the Mullanimal’ could teach evangelist Billy Graham a thing or two went it comes to passionate commitment to a sport that clearly consumes him.
His promise last year to “jump on a horse and ride him nude down the Quays” if the Déise won the All-Ireland final was no idle threat – and a vision that Fáilte Ireland could surely have incorporated into its testimonials for the joys of Ireland’s Ancient East.
Another ex-player whose cameo commentaries are well worth the price of your TV licence is Kilkenny’s Tommy Walsh, and one particular description of sport that should be stencilled above the door of every under-10 dressing room across the country.
“The real winners are those who lace up a pair of boots to go training or play a match. Because you’re not just a winner when you get an All-Ireland medal in your hand, you’re a winner when you compete against yourself and persevere.”
The Irish sporting summer – it really is a beautiful thing.