THE SCENE in Melbourne begins with a buzzing alarm clock. Setanta Ó hAilpín pulls himself out of bed but it takes a moment for our own eyes to focus on the sight in front of us. One of the enduring images at the end of the 2003 All-Ireland hurling final was of Ó hAilpín crumpled on the ground like a wounded foal, weeping after defeat by Kilkenny. His limbs looked light and willowy. On the field he already had gained the demeanour of a superstar, but still possessed the developing physique of a boy.

Three years later he walks towards the camera, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as a man. Three years of training and conditioning with AFL club Carlton have transformed him. His hair is long and tousled and his face has a scraping of stubble to replace the pencil-thin beard he once called the Del Piero.

He still looks sleek but an extra layer of muscle has visibly been added. He is heavier, stronger. Other things have changed, too. In the kitchen he whisks eggs for himself and his brother Aisake. For years they were cosseted by the comforts of home but now they must fend for themselves. It took time to adjust, but necessity soon took charge. “If you’re hungry enough,” says Aisake, “you’ll make something.”

From there they head for training. After a stint in the boxing ring, Setanta lies on the ring floor while a trainer stands over him, pounding a medicine ball into his stomach. “This is what we get up in the morning for,” he says, “to get the s*** kicked out of us.”

Meanwhile, their eldest brother is at work in Cork, shaking hands and having pictures taken. That evening he heads to Fermoy for training with the Cork hurlers, concerned with the business of championship. Every year for Seán Óg is the same. Fermoy is always cold and wet in February, every session is softened only by the thought of Thurles in June and maybe Croke Park in September. He is living one dream while his brothers are living another he always wished he could share.

“When I was 18 or 19 and someone knocked on my door saying we want to try you out, I wouldn’t have flown over,” says Seán Óg, “I would’ve swam over.”

Pat Comer’s documentary charts a year in the life of the Ó hAilpíns, hopscotching from their home in Blarney to big days with Seán Óg and Cork, and across to Melbourne where Setanta and Aisake make their way through a difficult season with Carlton. While the documentary is primarily anchored by the contrasts between the professional sporting life enjoyed by Setanta and Aisake in Australia and Seán Óg’s amateur existence as a hurler, Comer manages to take us much deeper.

Until now Comer’s most notable work was his fascinating portait of the Galway football team on the way to winning the 1998 All-Ireland football title. As sub-keeper on the team, gaining the access and trust was easier. That intimacy is emulated with Ó hAilpíns, allowing him to slip easily inside a family unit that remains tightly bound despite having their sons and roots spread across the world.

The constant thread is the need for contact with each other. Without the support of home, they are nothing. When their mother, Emeli, arrives in Melbourne for a break, her boys are illuminated with delight. She tidies the house and gives it a feel of home.

“Having her here,” says Setanta, “it’s like winning the lottery.”

The boys go for a swim at Brighton Beach and drape their towels around their mother’s neck as she watches from the shore. When they come out of the water she challenges them to a race that leaves them all collapsed on the sand in laughter. Their affection for their mother is undisguised and uncompromised by their age or the cameras. This is a family that has grown up as siblings and parents, but also as best friends.

At the end of the hurling season, Seán Óg heads to his birthplace in Rotuma, one of the Fiji islands, for the first time in 19 years. He sees much of his mother there, too: the warmth, the generosity of spirit, and rediscovers the traits he has inherited from island life. He gives a hurling tutorial in Fijian and is the guest of honour at a feast in the middle of the village, where a pig almost the size of Emeli’s steaks is wrapped in leaves and carried out for all to eat.

As a voyage of self-discovery his trip bears parallel with Setanta and Aisake’s adventures in Australia. He always carried his Fijian identity with pride. The journey gives him a deeper understanding of who he is. As Seán Óg leaves Rotuma behind, with its sandy roads and gentle way of life, he promising to return again soon. Meanwhile over in Melbourne, the boys turn towards another season at Carlton. Miles of ocean and land cannot break the tightest bonds. As a record of an extraordinary sporting family, this is a treasure.

Tall, Dark and Ó hAilpín, Thursday, RTE1, 10.15pm