TV View: It was on RTÉ2's Dream Teams yesterday that Jim McCartan, the Down footballing legend of the 1960s, was bemoaning the style of play that simply involves "high catching and long kicking", instead of the methods that served Down so well in that era, "finding men and passing it on and giving the ball to a man in a better position".

"The people in Gaelic football who annoy me are the ones who won't give and go," he said. "A lot of teams lose matches because someone tries to win the match on his own - but 15 men always beat one."

"Pass and move", then, was Jim's message.

We thought of him later in the afternoon when we tuned in to RTÉ's webcast of the Munster football final from Páirc Uí Chaoimh, when we watched as all 30 players remained rooted to the spot for over 12 minutes. Divil a pass, and divil any movement. It was as if they were frozen in time.

Which, as it turned out, they were, only we didn't realise it until "Connection to server has timed out - you may be experiencing network problems" popped up on our screen. It was at this point we realised our band might be broad but it clearly wasn't broad enough to allow for smooth webcast coverage of anything, never mind frenetic Munster football finals.

When we reloaded we finally got some movement, but when Séamus Moynihan's clearance took four a half minutes to reach midfield we suspected we were in trouble again. Either that or there was a fierce wind.

We don't understand the technical side of all this lark but was it because everyone else watching shut down and went for a cup of tea at half-time that we finally had flawless coverage as the teams left the pitch? CCTV-like coverage, that is, of the Páirc Uí Chaoimh band providing the half-time entertainment.

And was our second-half coverage much improved because watchers of a Kerry persuasion gave the game up as a bad job and went out to the sun? Whatever, we'll get on to our broadband provider today, but if they tell us the problem had nothing to do with our connection and was simply down to Kerry's midfield being alarmingly static on the day we'll show them the backdoor, much as Cork showed it to their neighbours.

Our view of the Connacht final was much less disturbed, largely because it was on normal telly and not that interwebnet thing. An intriguing prospect it seemed too, after Joe Brolly, who pointed out that "Galway played with an American football line", reminded us that selector John Morrison "recently compared Mayo to Brazil".

Cosmopolitan, certainly, although Joe then warned us it would also be a confusing afternoon. "Mayo are playing this thing that Mickey (Moran) and John innovated at Derry called 'the nut', which we couldn't understand - and now they have another formation called 'the spanner', which no one in the Mayo team can understand either."

In the end Conor Mortimerzinho put a spanner in the works of Galway by getting that last-minute winning point and the only nut on view, as it turned out, was that strapping Galway lad who theatrically fell to the ground "like he'd been hit by a runaway train", as Martin Carney put it, after a shove in the back by a Mayo man half his size. Like ourselves, it seems, he'd been watching the World Cup.

Over on RTÉ1 it was racing day at the Curragh, where our beloved Ted Walsh was in decidedly Victor Meldrew-ish form. "I think it's a lot of mullarkey meself, it's somebody covering their butt, that's what it is," he said of the rule that forbids jockeys having a chat with trainers on their mobile phones before races.

And when Brian Gleeson and Robert Hall asked Ted for his views on Kieren Fallon being banned from riding in England, but being allowed to carry on in Ireland, he was off. "It's only all crap about what we're doing. Everyone suits themselves, and at the moment we're suiting ourselves and as far as I can see right through the whole world people suit themselves and that's what they're doing here, suiting themselves."

Ted's world-weariness didn't stop there. The final straw for him was the sight of trainer Michael Stoute exiled to a distant field because he wanted a smoke.

"There's Michael, having a pull of the fag. About the only place you can smoke a cigarette now is a 100-acre field, without insulting somebody or doing something queer. The whole of the world's gone arse-ways Robert, isn't it?"

"Less of your 'arse-ways', Ted, less of your 'arse-ways'," said Robert, who, like ourselves, probably felt our Ted wasn't entirely wrong.