An Irishman's Diary

FOR A while there, I thought I must have missed the meeting at which the media on both sides of the Irish Sea had decided overnight to start mispronouncing the surname of Derry-born footballer James McClean. Why, I would wonder, annoyed at yet another example, was everyone suddenly referring to the man as if he was a namesake of the veteran Hollywood actress Shirley?

Now, even more annoyed, I realise the pronunciation is correct. And that the diktat on the matter came not from the Sky or BBC stylebook but from the player himself. In response to the initial, and perfectly logical, assumption that his name rhymed with “McQueen”, he took to his now-defunct Twitter account some time ago to set the record straight.

“McClane” is how they say it in Derry, apparently. And it turns out that he may as well be a namesake of Shirley’s.

At any rate, I have also learned that the surname she inherited (via her mother) was “MacLean”, similar to the footballer’s. Only later did she change its spelling, presumably to reflect the Scots-Irish pronunciation.

So fair enough, if the player calls himself “McClane”, that’s what I’ll call him too. But I wonder if, on a philological point of principle, the owner of a name should always have the last word on such issues.

Allow me to explain. Where I grew up, as in many parts of Ireland, there were (and still are) uniquely local variations on the pronunciation of certain names. “Callan” was “Cawlin”, for example. “Keenan” was “Kinnan”. And so on. Often, no doubt, these were vestiges of the Irish originals.

In any case, they were legal tender in the area. Indeed, if you pronounced some people’s names as they were pronounced elsewhere, you might be greeted with blank looks. And yet it was also understood that the local pronunciations were eccentricities. In school, or if you were talking to somebody from Dublin, you would automatically adopt the national standard usage.

With most Irish names, there is a such a standard. Sure, there are troublesome exceptions, including those public nuisances who call themselves McDow-ell, or McDole, or McDool, or whatever it is this week. But for the vast majority of surnames, there is an agreed pronunciation to which their owners, whatever they may be called at home, will answer.

Allowances may be made for those nomenclaturally lost sheep, the Irish diaspora, although even with them, we can enter a tacit protest. Thus we have learned to call a certain Australian-born soccer player Tim “Cay-hill”, although we know it’s wrong.

We may even agree to call the Manchester-born rock stars “Gallagger”. After all, the hard Gs somehow suit them.

But, personally, I could never get used to pronouncing the surname of the American golfer Mark O’Meara as if its last two syllables rhymed with those of the Arab TV network Al-Jazeera, which was what he himself appeared to believe. That was a step too far for me. I was glad when he retired from the regular golf circuit.

And yet, unlike pronouncing McClean as “McClane”, there’s a logic to “O’Meera”, based on the spelling. As indeed there was a logic in the tendency among English people, two decades ago, to assume that “Paul McGrath” and “Grapes of Wrath” had rhyming last syllables.

Happily, that misunderstanding didn’t last long (except for Ron Atkinson), thanks in part to the education provided by a popular football chant. There was a bit of an irony here, in fact. Namely that it took thousands of football fans shouting “Ooh! Aah! Paul McGrath!” from terraces every week to introduce many English people to the knowledge that, in Irish usage, a “t” before a “h” is often silent.

BUT SPEAKINGof silent letters – and still on the subject of exciting young football players – I presume that the name of a certain Belgian prodigy, now playing with Lille although apparently bound for Manchester next season, is not as suggestive as it sounds in English.

Eden Hazard, he’s called. Which might perfectly capture the predicament of a youngster about to risk his innocence in the birds-and-booze culture of English football. Except that, being from Wallonia, his final “d” must be silent, which rather ruins the effect.

Still (and albeit spelt with an “s” instead of a “z”), his surname means more or less the same thing in French. So I’m not sure it doesn’t help explain the decision he has reportedly arrived at as to which of the Manchester clubs he will be playing for come autumn.

Courted by both, he dropped a heavy hint yesterday that he would be heading to City rather than United. And of course, money may have something to do with it. But if you were superstitious, with a name like his, you too might choose the sky-blue half of Manchester, and stay well away from the self-styled “Red Devils”.

Not that it may make any difference for the poor kid. Either way, it looks like he’ll be heading for England in what Americans call “the fall”. And when your name is Eden Hazard, that’s ominous.