Given that most of his childhood and early youth was spent in orphanages, followed by a four-month hospitalisation for depression, Paul McGrath could easily have become institutionalised. Instead, he became an institution - almost certainly the most loved of all Irish sportspeople.
Sports writer Dave Hannigan's profile of McGrath, produced and directed by Colm O'Callaghan, is titled They Called Him God. Well, yes, as soon as shirts in the English Premiership began carrying players' names above their numbers, some Aston Villa supporters did wear amended replicas emblazoned with God 5. Nonetheless, the title displays more than a little hyperbole in an otherwise well-balanced programme.
Basically, this is a conventional, subject-talking-to-camera documentary, interspersed with tilted-camera, mood shots; football footage; evocative old stills and big-wig soccer interviewees. In addition though, there are contributions, some engagingly anecdotal, from the star's former managers at Pearse Rovers, Dalkey United and St Patrick's Athletic. Their comments score heavily in further humanising "god" and in earthing much of the hype that is professional soccer.
The core of the programme is, of course, McGrath talking about himself. Legendary for being shy and taciturn, Paul McGrath, it often seemed, was almost ego-less, admittedly an atypical disposition for a person with such a liking for alcohol. But his shyness and apparent lack of a sense of self endeared him to fans almost as much as his wonderful football ability.
Hannigan can rightly feel pleased to have persuaded McGrath to talk so candidly. His subject, unlike so many egomaniacal public people - assorted charlatans such as pushy entertainers and sportspeople not fit to lace McGrath's drinks, never mind his boots - has never been a contrived enigma. McGrath, we know, was genuinely shrinking in the glare of publicity. The irony of this, of course, is that the public - and not just football fans - warmed to him all the more. Consequently, they wanted to know more about him.
Anyway, on the pitch there is no hiding place - at least, not for long. And on the pitch, McGrath was a splendid and highly unusual combination of composure, vision and tenacity. There often appeared to be an effortlessness in his tackling, the timing of the moment of contact so precise and so assured that it usually seemed more of a flowing interception than a mere crunching block.
Irish players, especially Irish defenders, seldom have the seal-like rhythm of, say, the best Brazilians. Tenacity by itself, though still an admirable quality in a footballer, tends to produce a jerkiness, a stop-go kind of fitfulness, which may be effective, but lacks grace. McGrath, particularly given his size, was graceful and not just in the dilettantish, circus balljuggler sense. His relationship with the ball and with the space around him made him a player of the highest quality.
His relationship with the bottle was, of course, another matter. He talks frankly to the off-camera Hannigan about using drink, at first to overcome shyness and later to seek obliteration. His former managers at Manchester United (Ron Atkinson and Alex Ferguson), at Aston Villa (Graham Taylor and Atkinson again) and at Derby County (Jim Smith) also give their views on McGrath the boozer as well as on McGrath the player.
With sports documentaries becoming an increasingly large part of TV schedules (especially since Rupert Murdoch has grabbed so much of the live action), RTE could profitably mine this vein further. British television has already screened quality, fly-on-the-wall pieces featuring the luckless Graham Taylor ("Did he not need that" when he was England manager?) and Peter Reid (unable to "Cheer up" as his Sunderland team fought vainly for Premiership survival).
Until recently, sports documentaries have generally been too cheerleading, too tabloid and too grateful for access. They Called Him God is cheerleading, but not just that - primarily because of McGrath's honesty. Jack Charlton features and rightly so, considering that Paul McGrath was the greatest player in his very successful, if not very graceful, teams. The contributions of Tommy Heffernan of Pearse Rovers and Frank Mullen of Dalkey United remind you too that there was football in the Republic before Charlton.
It is ironic though that such a graceful player as Paul McGrath will forever be associated in the Irish mind with the "let's inflict ourselves on them" and "put 'em unda pressa" football of the Charlton era. Still, we can live with that and remember forever his sheer brilliance against Italy in New York's Giants' Stadium.
A nastier irony altogether is the fact that some of those who would worship a black god would spit on a black immigrant. Paul McGrath tells us, gently, what it was like to be black in a Dublin orphanage in the 1960s. There were "remarks" and "occasional fights". Indeed, but what odds Irish racism is a far nastier ball game now?
They Called Him God (RTE 1, Wednesday, 9.30 p.m.)