TSA Report: Limerick's Tale of the Unexpected

Sport, like a bold child crushing an insect, is cruel and thoughtless.

All summer, Waterford was its Story, the fulfilment of their long struggle for an All-Ireland the central, captivating theme of this year's Championships. It would be good for hurling. Great for hurling, in fact.

Casually, however, Waterford's wings were pulled off yesterday, and its wriggling body squashed under Limerick's ferocious heel.

And as the beaten down Waterford faithful scuttled away, turning their eyes from the sight, those remaining in Croke Park stood to acclaim Limerick. The new Story. As easy as that.

It sounds ludicrous to say that Limerick blindsided Waterford, given that the hurling Championship is so small, and that the counties have already played each other this year. But since last weekend, the gauntlet laid down to the team that wishes to challenge Kilkenny rested in Waterford's hands. Limerick were a formality to be negotiated, like the pre-match parade.

It wouldn't take the most eminent sports psychologist to figure this one out. Richie Bennis managed it fine. One presumes that the portly pied piper of Patrickswell strayed little in the past week from simply underlining to his players the indignation and affrontedness they should feel at their expected roles in Waterford's grand plan. And every ripple of the Waterford net, and bone-shattering shoulder charge, and clenched fist celebration was evidence of that.

Of course, there was more to it than the old familiar snarl of the underdog. Limerick's gameplan wasn't massively dissimilar to that employed in the Munster final. Not that they have another gameplan anyway. The policy of all-out war fell short that day due to Limerick's forwards' ineffectiveness and the ruthlessness of their Waterford counterparts.

Yesterday, the reversal of that situation was the difference. Limerick's front three struck hard and clean when given the chance, and were pleased to find that their defenders - the full-back line of Reale, Lucey and Hickey in particular - had decided on August 12th 2007 to produce the games of their lives.

Waterford's wide count was excruciating, but the statistics don't reveal the pressure that every Déise man was under when striking for the posts. A more useful statistic would be the number of blocks that Limerick defenders made. In the Munster final, Limerick got in close but drifted away. Yesterday, they got in close, then got closer.

Whether the double-header with Cork had taken the pep out of Waterford that they had used in Thurles to pull away from Limerick, or whether Bennis's key use of substitutions helped his team last the course, Waterford were unable to put in sprint finish that has marked their successes this year since the League final.

That was the shocker, the unexpected. Limerick kept it going when the Story said they should be gallantly standing aside.

And now, they are the Story.

Waterford Stay On Course

Everyone happy?

Waterford, ultimately taking Munster in style. Limerick preserving honour through a typically feisty performance, happy in the knowledge that the Tipp-tych of the semi-final took the legs out of them for the last ten minutes yesterday, and holding no fear of (probably) Clare in the All-Ireland quarter-final.

The neutral sees The Great White (and Blue) Hope of hurling dispatch a dangerous foe with a late knock-out, thereby staying on track for a title shot. And the Munster Council watches another provincial championship close with its product in as robust health than ever.

Perhaps only the poor souls getting soaked through on the terrace had something to gripe about.

No doubt indignant Limerick correspondents will claim the right to be peeved at yesterday's events. After all, who loses a provincial final with a smile on their face, especially when 11 years have passed since they last won one? But in reality, they would be merely going through the motions of disappointment.

Limerick displayed the full range of their wares yesterday, and, for roughly sixty-two minutes of the seventy-odd, they proved sturdy and durable. Eventually, however, after enough wear and tear, the seams began to come apart. The denizens in green in Ardán Uí Riain might have cursed the skullduggery of the ref, but there will be few who left Thurles yesterday genuinely feeling their team had been in anyway pickpocketed of their rightful prize.

Yes, they will look at their wides tally (12 to Waterford's 9), and a number of goal chances passed up. But many of their wides were from speculative, long-range efforts, whereas Waterford missed some jaw-droppingly convertible chances from the usually safe hands of Eoin Kelly and Paul Flynn.

Maybe J.P. McManus (whose helicopter landed alongside Mary McAleese's in the greyhound stadium across from Semple, to accompanying cheers from the Limerick faithful for their tireless benefactor) will have been frustrated at the inability of his money to push his beloved county further toward the promised land. But, hey, if he wanted to buy success, the Premiership is that-a-way!

Going back to the neutral (that lowly knave whose ample backside took up the birthright of a deserving disciple of Munster hurling in the stand) and the bigger picture. Had Limerick's guerilla forces derailed the Waterford convoy yesterday, the blow to hurling's self-esteem would have been most untimely, given the tears shed over the past week for the state of things in that godforsaken province to the east.

As it is, Waterford remain the cause célebre for those who are weary of the sales pitch for Liam McCarthy's ribbons: any colour, so long as it's black, amber or red. They won't meet another team who'll challenge them with the close-in ferocity that Limerick did. Most of the scrappy, scrambly squabbles for possession seemed to conclude with a Limerick man emerging with his life and the ball, to the enthusiastic roars from the massed ranks on the town end.

But let Waterford hurl, and hurl they will. When play opened up, the Waterford instinct towards flair and style was irresistible, and where once the Semple field seemed as roomy as a rush hour train, soon its new vast expanses prompted a land grab by Déise forwards. And no man planted his flag more gleefully than Dan Shanahan, whose charismatic and colourful presence makes all the more perplexing the description of him having once been "shy".

The force of personality is strong in Waterford. A good thing too, for it's one thing that any championship winning team needs as much as the prerequisites of talent. A bit of star appeal is as useful in an All-Ireland contender as in a Hollywood blockbuster.

Probably the first time messrs Shanahan, Mullane and McGrath have been likened to Clooney, Pitt and Damon, but you get the point.

Déise To Handle Meaty Treaty

Ahem. Munster final tickets procured. And not take-your-chances-with-this-cataclysmic-weather terrace tickets either. The stand, no less. Ahem.

So what kind of Munster final will it be that I have robbed a ticket from a long-suffering Limerick hurling disciple for? What kind of game will the nonagenarian of failing health, whose only wish is to see Limerick win a Munster final before he passes on, be watching on the television? Will it be a classic, the final that the kid who spends every waking moment with his hurl in his hand dreaming of being like Andrew O'Shaughnessy will not get anywhere near?

Enough remorse? Good.

Limerick remain located in the happy, carefree kennels in which the underdog generally resides. They won the hearts of many with the moxie they displayed in coming back so often against Tipperary over the course of that riveting trilogy, and by the end of the third match had developed a force of will that Tipp were unable to quell. But despite growing as a team and finally putting that six-year winless run in the Munster Championship behind them, Waterford can rightfully expect to be considered a superior force.

Not that superior mind you. Rather like Liverpool in the Premiership, Waterford have inveigled their way into being included in "the top three" even though they haven't remotely looked like challenging "the top two" for the only honour that matters. In a hurling parallel to the Three Tenors - Pavorotti, Domingo and the other one - Waterford might share the stage, but there is no doubt who the heavyweights are.

Setting aside Sunday for a moment, many have invested great hope in Waterford this season, seeing them as the only realistic contenders to challenge that Kilkenny-Cork duopoly. However, having watched those latter two last weekend, neither look particular eager to allow the Déise county a slice of the action that has seen the last five All-Irelands greedily hoarded either Noreside or Leeside.

Still, a couple of provincial wins over Cork in recent seasons (including in the classic 2004 final - if Sunday's is half as good I'll care not a jot for expiring nonagenarians and teary-eyed urchins) and a general sense of being just short of at least getting to the céilí mór in September have made their cause a popular one to champion.

The view that this season is a case of "now or never" for Waterford is also a common one, however. With established stars like Paul Flynn, Ken McGrath, John Mullane, Eoin Kelly and Dan Shanahan reaching and passing various stages of maturity, it is probably fair to regard this Waterford side as being at its peak. There has been a self-possession about their two biggest performances this season - the league final win over Kilkenny and the Munster semi-final disposal of Cork - that suggest the many years of hard knocks have provided lessons well learned; a comparison with Armagh on the cusp of their All-Ireland title in 2002 is not too far off the mark.

For all Limerick's fire and brimstone (and to be fair, in the early part of the third Tipp game there was some magnificient hurling in evidence as well), their physicality and ability to prevent themselves being outhurled by making the game narrow and combative, Waterford would have regarded them as an eminently manageable obstacle had they been asked their opinion before the season's start.

Limerick have consistently enjoyed the momentum of positivity throughout the championship so far, due to their outlandish comebacks and also the fact that Tipperary's internal squabbles highlighted their opponents happy state of mind. But Waterford are in a different place than Tipp; beating Kilkenny and Cork over the space of a few months can only breed confidence. If they are men enough to handle Limerick's brawn, they should have the belief to take them through.

And hopefully the nonagenarian will pull through for another year at least.

They're Back!

Quite clearly, they haven't gone away, you know.

The biennial spectacle of Tyrone's footballers in full, voracious flow continues. Whatever it is that they do during those even years when they virtually disappear, they should market it to burned-out executives as the perfect rejuvenation therapy. Maybe they signed some sort of pact with the devil, which, along with having to give the Dark Lord's son a regular game at right corner-back, means their particular brand of footballing devastation can only be deployed every second year.

Whatever, they're back now and that's that. Deal with it.

Mickey Harte's responses to post-match questions used that formula that the Tyrone manager swears by: for howsoever fantastic my team are, I will be proportionally humble. "We have to be very careful here, because we weren't a great team coming into this game so we're no world beaters now," Harte protested, codding no-one.

Now, in the all-time list of abject Donegal performances in the Ulster Championship, yesterday's effort will jostle its way among the many other contenders near the top. All the same, this particular Clones cyclone blew Tír Conaill away to such an extent that the county's supporters' scornful words should have stopped in their throats, to be replaced with acknowledgements of the their opponents' incontestable class.

That Donegal are a team who are operating to some arcane alternative calendar which fooled them into thinking that you must play your best football in February is only a side-issue.

Tyrone's relentless support running, intelligent movement and fierce competition for possession were the matters that should have engaged football's chattering classes in the aftermath of yesterday's game. The performance of Brian Dooher alone will send shudders around the nation.

That they threw in a scatter of horrendous wides is of little consolation to prospective victims, given that one Stephen O'Neill joined in for the final twenty-odd minutes, blowing off the cobwebs with two points.

******

Events in Clones and the return of the Red Hand will engage the GAA's great minds and strategists, but Thurles was the place to be for less sober-minded pursuits. The residents of the Tipperary town can't have seen a weekend like it since the days of Féile. Even the Stunning and the Saw Doctors put together couldn't have generated the decibel levels and general high-octane excitement of two games that provided yet another reminder of the unique magic of Munster Championship hurling.

Quite what to expect when Limerick and Tipperary do it all over again on Saturday is impossible to know. On the face of it Limerick have simply trailed Tipp like a particularly enthusiastic puppy: every time Tipp have tried to shoo them away, Limerick have scampered happily back to their heel. Will Tipp finally rid themselves of the troublesome mutt, or will Limerick eventually bite them on the bum?

If that metaphor is too fluffy to fit the slash and gurn of Munster hurling, then happily Cork and Waterford's canine likenesses tend more towards brawling pit-bulls. Waterford got their third win over Cork this year, and will be hoping that the habit remains unbreakable.

But the loss of the suspended Cusack, ó hAilpín and O'Sullivan for such a game would have felt for Cork like one of those anxiety dreams where you go into a job interview with no trousers on. Add in a sense of grievance over the suspensions that the Rebels can place neatly on their shoulders alongside the chips that reside there already, and Waterford's mood this morning will be a cautious sort of elation.

******

Cautious elation is rarely the prevailing mood of Dublin supporters when they are cheering their team home to victory against Meath. But most will be aware that pulling away from a doughty Meath side late on is not quite the push-start for the Dubs summer juggernaut. However, the amount of criticism that Dublin get when things go poorly dictates that, in the interests of fairness, if not human decency, they should get some credit for the win.

They did manage - just about - to avert another backslide from a winning position, which they'll hope represents the end of that particular pesky foible.

And there were a few more of those long-sought answers to longer-extant questions. Ross McConnell has improved exponentially in the full-back role for one thing. Mark Vaughan is a very Dublin type of darling, but he kicked frees satisfactorily, and, more importantly, showed a lot of character in that period where Dublin's familiar fade began to reappear. Importantly, he never provided any other message to his team-mates than "give me the ball", an enthusiasm which eventually lit the touchpaper for the Dubs win.

An Offaly team at leisure while Dublin have been at war await on Sunday, so caution is justified - not that it will last that long, mind you.

Definitely Not 'Grand Slam Weekend' Ok?

One of the most familiar complaints of we compliant, huddled masses as we are force-fed our Premiership staple is not so much the content, but rather the packaging. Does the world's most exciting league need to be wrapped in so many sparkly labels telling us so? This weekend's instalment of the GAA Championships provides an interesting case study in the value of the organic, wholefood approach to sports marketing.

Essentially, had the sharp-suited gents in the Sky Sports marketing department got hold of the Championship weekend ahead, there would not be an event short of the Second Coming itself (no, not Price Naseem's return to the ring, the actual one) subject to so much drooling anticipation.

As it is, the mouthwatering program on Saturday and Sunday stands by itself and, soberly noted in the GAA fixture list and the RTE television schedules, looks none the less exciting for not being called 'Weekend of the Titans' or somesuch.

Hell, the GAA even languidly muttered "bovvered?" at the prospect of the Dublin v Meath replay not being on the telly, until the unsatisfactory fudge was reached of having it run against the just as eagerly anticipated Cork v Waterford battle on either side of RTE's channel portfolio. It's an unfortunate circumstance, as one imagines the neutral public will veer towards the low-brow entertainment at Croke Park rather than the high art on display in Thurles (and with my purist kudos now secured, I will secretly don my Beer Helmet and join them).

The weekend's main features divide into two distinct categories: on one hand, both codes see proven recent champions (Cork, Tyrone) take on hungry and in-form contenders (Waterford, Donegal); on the other, two stonking drawn games throw up replays between teams whose bitter local rivalries guarantees zest, but whose ultimate All-Ireland credentials are questionable at best (Limerick v Tipperary, Dublin v Meath).

There's no harm in expending a little hot air at this time of the year on the timeless battle of Leinster's big two, there being space in the early Championship rounds for a bit of hype. The press have passed the time between the drawn game and the announcement of the teams with the traditional tireless deployment of the word "bonanza" in relation to the ringing of the GAA's tills ahead of Sunday's replay. I saw the word so many times I thought Lorne Greene and Michael Landon had been called in to shore up Dublin's troublesome full-back line.

Meath won a lot of friends in that first game, which is an unusual thing to say about teams from that county. Their brand of old-fashioned, give-it-long football was so refreshingly retro that I half expected The Sunday Game to be followed by an episode of Murphy's Micro Quizm. They have firepower as well, which will be augmented by the return of their NFL top scorer Brian Farrell. If they eliminate their poor starts to each half they could spell the demise of another sad, sullen Dublin team.

Cork and Waterford's duels in recent years have been some of the most transfixing in GAA, from the 2003 Munster final, through the classic 2004 version to the damp but thrilling denouement to last year's All-Ireland semi. There has been little between them in that time, and as much epic heroism as any Norse saga. The momentum is with Waterford and a look of steel that won them the league final tips the edge in their direction.

Conversely with Limerick and Tipperary, although the Shannonsiders finished in bravura fashion last weekend, Tipp retain a smidgeon of extra class, evident in the fact that their scores seemed easier crafted than Limerick's, whose effort expended in getting the draw could leave them flat tomorrow evening.

Finally (apologies to Sligo, Roscommon, Louth and Wexford, but you know how it is, pressures of space etc.) to the second test of Donegal's credentials, Tyrone. Armagh were negotiated in a manner about as unconvincing as a performance could be and still be a victory.

Which, for Donegal, could turn out to be a very good thing. Had they breezed past the Orchard county in rip-roaring style, they would have already been subconsciously booking Dublin hotel rooms for September. Now, with a very grave reminder of their own fallibility fresh in their minds, they can apply themselves studiously to a weary-looking Tyrone, a team that, for all their greater achievements, do not petrify Donegal like Armagh do.

And there you have it: a weekend heaving with the promise of pulsating drama, and not a hairy-handed host nor a gravelly-voiced Scotsman in sight.