The highs are monumentally high but the lows can be heartbreakingly low, such is the nature of any All-Ireland final. However, with one score in it in the 92nd minute – following a nail-biting point-to-point match – when the final whistle blew, the emotional reaction was off the Croker Richter scale.
The highs are monumentally high but the lows can be heartbreakingly low, such is the nature of any All-Ireland final.
However, with one score in it in the 92nd minute – following a nail-biting point-to-point match – when the final whistle blew, the emotional reaction was off the Croker Richter scale.
Clare fans exploded – hugging, whooping and jumping up and down. And Cork supporters stood in shock, looking on in disbelief at their heartbroken heroes. Is it really over? Did that actually happen?
This isn’t a full-on sports analysis, I’ll leave that to the experts, but let’s take a moment for the fans and the great game of hurling.
I was lucky enough to be there in Hill 16 last Sunday wearing red, following a very last-minute ticket acquisition after two weeks of fruitless hunting.
When I finally passed through the turnstile, I literally skipped into the stadium, such was my joy and relief to be there.
And then there was that magical moment that always gives me goosebumps at a big game in Croke Park, stepping up through the entrance to that glorious sea of supporters; red and white, blue and yellow surrounding that bright green grass that was for those two hours, the most exciting stage in the country.
My ticket came at the final hour so the Artane Band was already on the march with the players behind, in their parade of pride when I got in.
The sight was spectacular, the atmosphere electric, and the cheers were so full of enthusiasm, you felt you could carry the players to victory by sheer will alone.
This passion always has such force that it radiates far beyond the north side of Dublin, and over a million viewers worldwide feel its electric energy as far away as America and Australia.
All-Ireland glory
However, nothing beats being there because no matter who is playing on the pitch, being at an All-Ireland is witnessing history in the making.
In years to come, we’ll still be talking about the quick-fire actions that could have made all the difference, whether Robbie O’Flynn was right to go for the goal or should he have just taken the point?
Was Tony Kelly playing hurling or a new-futuristic form of tennis when he got that spectacular goal? And we make our own memories as well.
No matter what colour you’re wearing, there is a unique sense of camaraderie and craic with everyone supporting the great game of hurling.
I’ll no doubt recount my tale about my last-minute ticket in years to come in the same way that I reflect on being at the 2006 All-Ireland when Kilkenny hampered Cork’s dreams for three-in-a-row; or my fantastic seats at the other nail-biting final against Clare in 2013 that ended in a replay.
I’m not going to lie, there was a fair few rowdy supporters on the Hill, many wearing red. But also for those 70 minutes (92 on this occasion), fleeting friendships were formed.
There was the Clare girl on one side of me that would have given Darragh Maloney a run for his money in her commentary, the 60-year-old Cork man who gripped my hand when another Clare point went over the bar, and the six-year-old supporter being held up by his daddy whose tiny voice turned into a grown-up roar chanting, ‘Oh to be a Rebel’.
No matter what colour you’re wearing, there is a unique sense of camaraderie and craic with everyone supporting the great game of hurling.
So, if you’re one of the lucky ticket holders that is supporting Galway or Armagh this weekend, take a moment to appreciate that privilege it is to be at an All-Ireland final.
And if you’re still on the hunt for tickets, don’t give up hope, you might just find one in the final hour.
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