LEGENDARY RTE broadcaster Michael Lyster was remembered as “magic in human form” by his son at a joyful funeral this afternoon.
Iconic presenter Lyster, who was a fixture on Irish TV screens for over three decades, died at the age of 71 last weekend.
The Gaelic games hero famously presented RTE’s The Sunday Game from 1984 until he retired in 2018 three years after suffering a heart attack.
RTE and GAA stars gathered in Dublin to say farewell to the beloved broadcaster, including pundit pal Joe Brolly, Galway manager Padraic Joyce, former Cork hurler Tomas Mulcahy, and former RTE producer Paul Byrnes.
President Catherine Connolly was represented by her aide-de-camp.
Objects representing Michael’s life were laid on his coffin, including Led Zeppelin’s self-titled 1969 record, his hurl, his rally car gloves, and a collectible model car.
Rising Time presenter Shay Byrne, who took on the role of celebrant, invited the Galway native’s son Jack to lead the tributes at the “celebration of life”.
An emotional Jack shared his memories of Michael with mourners from when there was no audience other than his family.
He said: “I remember the car journeys with the music loud enough to hurt your ears, and watching him turn the volume up slowly, thinking no one was watching.
“I remember him describing oysters as a ‘mouthful of the ocean’ and grinning every time he ate one.
“I remember the stories he would tell over and over again at the dinner table, and still find a way to make them funny every time – and I remember his mischievous grin.
“I remember how much he loved Galway and how he felt the further west he could go, the better, all the way into the sea if he could.
“I remember him reading in bed, once even Ulysses, and when asked what he thought, he just said it was a bit wordy’.
“I remember the first time I saw him cry after the death of his friend, and the second time while watching a symphony orchestra on TV.
“I remember the constant humming, singing, something in between the two, and the finger drumming on tables and steering wheels. I remember the warmth of his hugs.
“I remember him watching himself on TV every Sunday night, followed by the music channels at an inconsiderately loud volume.
“I remember him standing in the garden at night with his binoculars, staring up for ages and then excitedly announcing he’d found the International Space Station going by.
“I remember his head nearly hitting the ceiling when Man United won the Champions League. I remember how much he used to make us all laugh.
“I remember him analysing his CD collection before every drive and picking out a certain one for every trip. I remember him dancing when he thought no one was watching, and dancing harder when someone was.
“I remember how much he loved the sun, even with the tanning abilities of an albino.
“I remember his dodgy golf swing, and his ability to beat me every time anyway. I remember his loud chewing.
“I remember handbrake turns in the snow and how much he loved his Ford Mondeo. I remember him kissing mum in the kitchen. I remember how his favourite meal was his own terrible cooking.
“And I remember how much he loved us all, and how much it meant to him that we loved him too. I remember kissing him on the cheek as a child leaving for school, and I’ll always remember the last one I gave him on Saturday.”
Michael’s close friend and fellow journalist Vincent Hogan described him as one of Ireland‘s national treasures.
Holding back tears as he concluded his eulogy, Vincent told the congregation: “But for me, there was a far more important thread running through every single sentence that I read.
“And for Anne, for Mark, Rebecca, Ellen, and Jack, and for Michael’s sister Anne, I hope that thread resonated just as loudly as all the stuff about TV studio presence because it spoke, above all, of an easy likability, of a decency with people, of a complete absence of self-importance.
“It spoke of someone who was just endlessly, unbreakably sound. And in this fulminating world we live in, that’s no small thing.”
After a moving and celebratory farewell, the curtains drew on his coffin, and mourners departed the Victorian Chapel at Mount Jerome Crematorium to the thumping sound of Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin.
Michael is survived by his wife Anne, and his four children: Mark, Jack, Rebecca and Ellen.
Souce: https://www.thesun.ie/sport/16739062/rte-michael-lyster-funeral-the-sunday-game/
