John Duggan writes that surprises in GAA have brightened a dark year, and more could be on the cards as teams play with freedom for glory...
Being fortunate enough to work at behind closed doors Championship matches was a novelty at first; but at last weekend's All Ireland senior hurling semi-finals, I became acutely aware that it's night and day from what we are used to.
Don't get me wrong; the standard of hurling was high, especially from Waterford in the second half against Kilkenny. You notice the running commentary of shouts on the pitch and the constant crack of the sliotar against ash. Fierce determination remains a given once the ball is thrown in and it's still very exciting to watch. How could it not be? It's the best game.
Then you think about the lack of supporters. Ahead of a regular All Ireland final between Limerick and Waterford, there would be the ticket rush, the acquisition of jerseys, flags and face paint, hotels booked, arrangements made for pints, lifts cadged, talk with friends about the team selection and tactics on the phone or over a scoop, the journey to Dublin, maybe a carvery and a day off booked for the Monday.
Then would come the euphoria of the 70 plus minutes itself, the roller coaster of emotions, the ebb and flow of nerves, hope, despair - and at the end, either sheer joy or disappointed acceptance.
I couldn't help wondering when Waterford hurled with a type of freedom we've all been missing from our lives if this is their best chance of a first All-Ireland title since 1959 when they drew with Kilkenny on the week my parents were married and went on to win the replay.
I am wondering what the Waterford players are thinking; are those who played against Galway in the 2017 All Ireland decider as nervous as they were back then? Do they see this as a free shot having not won a Championship game in the three years between that final and this October?
The players have nobody contacting them out of the blue for tickets; no extended period between the semi-final and final to stew on the game, no suit measurements, hotel and homecoming palaver, no parade, no colours, hopes, and dreams of their own people visibly in their eye line. Does it make it easier? I am sure some inter-county players thrive on the big day and a full Croke Park house of 82,300, but for expectant counties, ravaged by famine, it may be more trouble than it's worth.
In 2008, Kilkenny beat Waterford by 3-30 to 1-13 in the All Ireland final, which marked the Deise's first appearance in a decider for 45 years.
Waterford legend Ken McGrath wrote about the day in his book 'Hand on Heart'.
"I couldn't wait, which in hindsight shows the occasion was getting to me. I couldn't wait for the morning, couldn't wait to get up, couldn't wait to get to Croke Park, couldn't wait to get out onto the field again. The energy that burned off looking forward was energy I should have had during the game."
McGrath recalled how the Waterford players couldn't hear each other in the warm-up, such was the noise of the crowd. He detailed how bad the warm-up was, because the players had let nerves seep in, playing in the county's first All Ireland final since 1963; against a Kilkenny team at their peak.
"I took it in. I told myself to enjoy it, because I'd been waiting all my life for that opportunity, but that was the problem for all of us. We'd been waiting all our lives for half three that Sunday afternoon, and we were conscious of it. After ten minutes the game was over, though. They tore into us and nailed early goals and ended the contest."
Waterford drowned in 2008 for many reasons, but the hype was definitely one.
In football, it's the same - Mayo in 2006 just crumbled, 2-4 to no score in arrears to Kerry after 13 minutes, dreams torn apart. Other counties have let it slip with victory in sight; Roscommon in 1980 and Tyrone in 1986 come to mind - so do the Dublin teams of the early 1990's - they didn't deal well with expectation until Jason Sherlock provided the missing ingredient.
In hurling, Limerick themselves suffered a devastating All-Ireland defeat in 1994, leading Offaly by five points with six minutes to go, before losing by six points as the Faithful scored 2-5 without reply. Limerick would also lose the 1996 All Ireland to Wexford, even with an extra man for most of the game.
It had an impact psychologically, as Damien Quigley, who scored two goals for Limerick in the 1994 final told Henry Martin in the book 'Unlimited Heartbreak'.
"I still get nightmares about it, not as frequently as I used to. I don't think we ever addressed 1994 properly and it cost us 1996. We didn't hurl at all in 1996."
Since that book was published, a young, talented, well-managed group of Limerick hurlers have won the All Ireland, but they were hanging on for dear life at the end against Galway in 2018. Was that the 45-year weight of what they were about to achieve?
How many points can the effect of hype cost a team? What helps players manage the occasion better? When the breakthroughs of the Clare hurlers in 1995, the Armagh footballers in 2002, and the Tyrone footballers in 2003 occurred, it was all with managers in their first seasons. It's happened with managers in more established counties too; Jack O'Connor in Kerry and Jim Gavin in Dublin come to mind.
There is a freshness of message and approach, possibly a greater concentration on process. That is what Liam Cahill has brought to Waterford. They have momentum. If there is pressure in this final, it's on Limerick, the best team in Ireland over the last couple of years who have to go now and win back the Liam McCarthy Cup against a team they have already beaten this year in the Munster final. The last team to have this problem, Clare, squeezed past Tipperary by one point in 1997.
Neither county having to cope with hype should make it more about the performance of individuals within the unit.
The sense that it's intense challenge hurling with silverware on the line came across in the closing minutes of the Limerick v Galway game last Sunday; with the sides level, Limerick just popped over four of the remaining five points. No fuss. Evan Niland had drawn Galway level with a long-range score, and that normally would have sent the supporters mental.
No crowd, less tension, less whistling, less pressure. No soaring wave of noise when a clearance is made. No mad, spontaneous euphony when a goal is scored.
One thing that's taken the fizz out of key passages of play has been water breaks. Regrouping is possible, without that feeling in front of supporters that it's slipping away.
In what we shouldn't forget is an amateur sport, I believe a lack of fanfare is creating more of a level playing field and contributing to the shocks we have witnessed, such as Tipperary and Cavan, their players perhaps more mindful of the moment, rather than burdened by the hand of history.
Those days of late have nourished our soul at home. Thankfully we have a few more of them.
So December could herald the end of Waterford's wait; or Mayo's moment at last.
I watched Austin Gleeson blaze over the insurance score for Waterford last Sunday and I kept my eye on him. On the whistle, he was on his hunkers, alone, taking a moment. Probably exhausted, possibly emotional. It was hard to work out. Every Waterford hurling fan was probably in their own little world too. Maybe that's what's needed for Waterford to end a 61-year wait. The quiet beauty of man and hurl, in sync.
And the promise of a future celebration when life returns to normal, and players and fans are reunited again.
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