All-Ireland SHC final Countdown:Seán Moran looks back at director Louis Marcus's account of the making of Christy Ring, a film in which the Cork legend outlines hurling's skills

Christy Ring, universally regarded as the greatest hurler of all time, died 25 years ago last February.

This week is also the 50th anniversary of his record eighth All-Ireland medal, won in the final against Wexford. Next month is also the 40th anniversary of the premiere of the film Christy Ring, made by the distinguished Cork director Louis Marcus.

It focused on Ring's views on hurling and his explanation of the skills involved in the game.

In October 1964 Marcus wrote a series of three articles for this newspaper. This is an abridged version of Filming Christy Ring in which the director discussed the making of the film and his impressions of the subject.

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A film is never photographed in the sequence in which it finally appears. Our film on hurling ends with Christy Ring in action for Cork against Tipperary and true to the paradox of movie-making, this was the first thing we photographed.

It was a Sunday afternoon in 1960 in the Athletic Grounds beside the Lee. We had cameras on the sideline and cameras on scaffolds in the neighbouring Cork Showgrounds.

Every lens was trained on Christy and we were staking all on the gamble that his performance would make a resounding climax to the film. He did not disappoint us and as the afternoon wore on he cast his own unique spell to notch scores from all angles.

At half-time when his personal tally was 2-2, I thanked Christy for his fine display. With a poker face and what might have been a twinkle in his eye he briefly replied: "I'm sorry I could no more." We had got our film's climax all right but that was only the beginning. For when Gael Linn set out to produce colour documentaries of hurling and Gaelic football, backed generously by WD & HO Wills, it was decided to do more than merely catch the glamour and excitement of the games. We wanted also to explore the skills of play, to subject star performers to the merciless scrutiny of slow-motion filming and the analytical glare of suspended animation.

Many people told us that Gaelic football would not stand up to it - that it was not a game of skill. This myth we set out to explode in the film Peil. Here with three technical advisers and seven star players, we broke the game down into its basic movements and examined each to probe its secret. This was not too difficult; a good deal is known about the science of football and the fundamental skills are within everyone's reach.

Hurling is a completely different matter. For speed and variety of stroke it leaves football standing; everyone admits the great skill involved but no one seems to know what this consists of; indeed so few counties can hurl with mastery that the rest of the country regards the game as a private mystique, a sort of closed shop - either you are born a hurler or you must remain forever on the ditch.

To explode this particular myth was our aim in the hurling film. But to do so we needed someone who could not only demonstrate the game at its best but who had also analysed its mysteries and reduced them to basic movements that we could photograph. For this there was only one possible choice - Christy Ring.

But there was no guarantee that Ring would co-operate. Despite his fantastic fame he has consistently avoided the limelight and his distaste for personal publicity is well known. We hoped however that he would recognise the sincerity of our purpose and the importance of our aims. Happily this he did.

We found that even after two decades as king of his sport he had lost none of his keenness and passion for the game. The proposal of a film appealed to him at once as a contribution to the saving of hurling in the many areas where it is slowly dying. I also feel, although he never said so, that he welcomed this opportunity to have his skill and his ideas recorded forever on celluloid. "But," he warned us from the start, "I'm not an easy man to please. It will have to be done well." By doing it well Christy meant planning the instructional sequence as a comprehensive and lucid demonstration of basic hurling skill. We soon discovered that his mind was rich on the subject and his talk of the game fascinating.

Every so often, to prove his point, his massive hands with their powerful wrists would swing an imaginary hurley at an invisible ball, sometimes he would rise from his chair to act out in full the line of a particular stroke. Once when arguing that a free should be pointed gently and not crashed over the bar, he snatched up a piece of paper, crumpled it in a ball and palmed it softly across the room straight into an empty basket.

In session after session of work on the script he stripped the game of its mystique and revealed the clear, solid foundation of hurling skill. All this he did in language that was vivid and fresh: for the sideline cut - "bring the emphasis of the hurley down on the ball;" for the grip - "you should enjoy the hurley in your hand;" for scoring a goal from a free - "always hit the ball on the up."

As Christy designed it the script for the instructional sequence covered all the essential elements of hurling in a dozen basic lessons. But even when his practical demonstrations of these had been photographed, his aid was still invaluable. Time and again he vetted the editing, helping to pare down the hours of running time to a clear and concise expression of his ideas.

When Breandán Ó hEithir came to write the commentary Christy went through the whole thing again with him and examined the script word by word until he was satisfied.

Finally to our great delight he agreed to speak on the sound track and introduce each of the hurling lessons. We felt that this would set the seal of his authority on the instructional sequence; for to this part of the film he had freely given himself in thought, in performance and in words - the cream of his unequalled skill and wisdom.

Photographing a film is a most laborious business, as the same thing must be repeated over and over again from different camera angles and at different camera speeds. But Christy's patience was endless and such was his skill that each repetition was an exact replica of the one that went before.

Christy was showing how to block a ball running along the ground so that it rises from the hurley up into his waiting hand. The ball came in towards him but before it reached him it hit a tuft of grass and hopped most awkwardly. In a flash Christy altered his stroke and succeeded in flicking the ball into his hand with apparent ease. "Stop the camera," he cried to our amazement.

We obeyed but wondered what his objection was, for it had been a great feat of hurling skill. "No," he insisted, "you can't use that in the film." He proceeded to explain that to demonstrate the game properly to the public, only the purest and most orthodox style should be shown.

As the work proceeded it became more and more obvious that the wizardry and magic that people know as Christy Ring stem from main source - his intellect. No matter how graceful his movements, no matter how dramatic his scores, Christy's performance comes primarily from his brain.

He treats each stroke as a problem to be solved, as a challenge to footwork, balance, speed of eye and suppleness of wrist. At all stages of the filming he was able to explain in words and justify every facet of his style - why he keeps the left hand free when blocking with the right, why he lifts the ball without handling it at the start of a solo run, why he keeps his feet close together when pulling on the ball and far apart when cutting it.

We were privileged to see an aspect of him few can know - his genius as a coach. We found this out when as often happened the sun went behind the clouds and we had to abandon work with the camera. The filming stopped but the hurling didn't, as Christy threw sticks to us all and started a game.

My own prowess was frankly nil but it did not matter to him how good or bad you were, only that you should enjoy the game.

I had been trying to double on a high ball - one of the hardest strokes in hurling. Even after Christy's careful instruction I could not even make contact with the ball at first.

Finally a particular ball came in from the out-field and I made for it in the usual way. Christy was leaning against the goalpost and before I reached the ball I heard him say softly: "He has it now."

Sure enough there was a sweet, sure crack and the ball went flying over the bar right on target.