The Off the Ball break-up would leave a sour taste in your mouth
Caoimhín Rowland
THE announcement made during last Tuesday night’s broadcast of Off the Ball – that as of Wednesday morning Off the Ball’s library of podcasts will only be accessible through a tenner (€9.99 a month) subscription service – would leave a sour taste in your mouth.
Ger Gilroy, the head honcho at Off the Ball HQ, decided to go on air with Joe Molloy on Tuesday evening to explain the rationale behind the move. It transpired to be a PR disaster that’d make Kelly Harrington look like Alastair Campbell.
“We were debating off-air whether we should come out and even explain this,” Gilroy chirped to his on-air side piece Molloy. Sentiments in the Twitter replies lambasted the duo. A radio show possesses a unique relationship with its audience. It was like a lover breaking it off with you telling you they never really cared much about you in the first place.
Off the Ball is under the remit of Bauer Media. And as a private company, they’re more than entitled to do what they please. Gilroy alluded to the changing face of sports media – how The 42.ie charge a fiver a month and Second Captains (birthed, of course, from Off the Ball family) also charge a fiver a month on Patreon.
Controversially, Gilroy called out The Guardian for being the last sports podcast standing that allows listeners in on a chat free of charge.
Off the Ball is not gone, the duo stressed. “We’ll still be available a commendable seven days a week.”
Unfortunately for Off the Ball, there’s a general sentiment amongst their listeners that the quality has diminished of late. How could it not? Uploading podcasts takes time. You need to edit, get images, pay for hosting, and clip videos and bites for social media channels. The idea of having sole 'on-air talent' is for RTÉ, not for private companies where every shred of a journalist's fibre is squeezed.
If I was to guess, I'd say Gilroy has jumped before being pushed. Numbers rocketed online during Covid lockdowns and sponsors lapped it up, with distractions of life-lowering pandemic-distorted figures.
Presenters have also seeped out of the Off the Ball walls. The well-documented loss of the Second Captains entourage bore a hole in their talent, while the more recent loss of Eoin Sheahan has been sorely felt by fans of the show too (well, maybe not many in the annals of the Mayo County Board!). Gilroy spoke about 'unearthing the next Joe Molloy – and that costs money'. How must Molloy’s colleagues and Gilroy’s subordinates feel about that one?
Ireland is a sports mad nation, but what made Off the Ball unique was its ability to look beyond the typical narrative, enlighten listeners on tales occurring in minority sports and shed light on issues in far-flung nations. Currently their output consists of wannabe Gary Nevilles in Paddy Andrews and Kenny Cunningham spouting off on the English Premier League. Despite their live coverage of Ireland soccer internationals and an assertion by Nathan Murphy that the Irish soccer team are the 'biggest show in town', an aural edition of Setanta Sports is about as much as they can muster. Coverage of Stephen Kenny fails to reflect the nation's mood either.
A freshness is needed in Irish sports media pronto, but the rising costs of being a sports fan needs to be addressed sooner. Ticket prices across all live sports have increased exponentially, TV subscription platforms would cost you an arm and leg to cover all the sports a generation before almost had for free, and now to listen back on your team's games being previewed or reviewed is going to cost you too.
It’s an issue Off the Ball presenters, especially Gilroy, spoke about consistently. Rightly or wrongly, he’s public enemy of the week for Irish sports fans. Not an easy spot to be in, particularly when a life at the pulpit is all you know.
I accept why Off the Ball has had to make the move; we’ve grown and changed as people. But it’s ingratiating to a public who feel like they’re being taken for a ride at every possible opportunity.