AN EPIC TRIUMPH OF YOUTH AND COURAGE
Limerick leaders step forward with stunning display of resilience and creativity that proves too much for Leesiders to handle
THE bravery of youth is imperishable. It might not be enough to earn this tremendous young Limerick team an All-Ireland Hurling Championship, but it elevated them to a place of remarkable emotion in Croke Park yesterday.
For the second time in 24 hours, the hurling championship made Ireland simply a better place.
This astonishing two hours surpassed what Galway and Clare had conspired to produce on Saturday night, and was the final, sensational piece of evidence in the case for this being the greatest hurling season of them all.
And Limerick starred in the production, distinguished by terrific skill, great performances from Cian Lynch, Aaron Gillane and Shane Dowling, but energised most importantly by their courage.
They are a callow side but their gumption is the first of their virtues.
There were swallow-holes that could have devoured them over the 90 minutes of action, those gloomy stretches of a contest when wavering players can disappear.
Limerick were six points behind Cork in the 62nd minute of this match, then scored seven points on the spin to lead by one in time added on.
Cork snagged them but Limerick had pitched the contest so thoroughly in their favour that Cork were done for.
Twenty minutes of extra time confirmed it, with Dowling rampant in the Limerick attack and responsible for drawing the second-loudest roar of the day out of the Limerick support.
It came when he scored a penalty in the 83rd minute, putting Limerick four points ahead and so prising off the last desperate claims of Cork.
But it got louder still three minutes later when Pat Ryan looped a third Limerick goal over Anthony Nash.
It was entirely unexpected, the substitute brilliantly winning possession and tracking in along the end-line before hitting his shot.
It was at a time when Cork, exhausted and almost beyond desperation, were vainly attempting to disrupt Limerick’s careful husbandry of possession.
Then the sliotar was sent fizzing to the corner of Hill 16 and the Cusack Stand, and Ryan was let loose.
When the net billowed, there was a nanosecond of silence as 71,073 people processed what had happened. Then a noise emerged from Limerick supporters that seemed loud enough to split Croke Park in two.
Limerick were back in a final for the first time in 11 years, and 45 years after they were last the finest team in Ireland.
They were incontestably the better side, but for a good sweep of the second half Cork were the likelier winners, after Conor Lehane’s goal.
Limerick made the mistakes of a young team, mostly errors caused by a lack of composure. They splurged five chances, suffering five wides in five and a half minutes after half-time, for instance.
But their bravery is mighty compensation for any misjudgement, allowing their talents to flourish as they did to eventually sweep Cork away.
The Rebel running game did promise a bountiful return at times, stretching Limerick and maximising the yawning spaces of Croke Park.
It also prompted the most gobsmacking moment of the game at the end of normal time, just before a Gillane free gave Limerick a short-lived lead.
With the teams tied, Nickie Quaid batted the sliotar away just as Seamus Harnedy drew back his hurl to win the match for Cork.
It was another of those moments when the world is shushed, for only a sliver of a second, by the drama of it all, before Cork anguish and Limerick relief came together to make a cacophony. Cork were that close. Daniel Kearney was their inspi- ration, tremendous until having to be carried off with cramp after an hour.
With him went Cork’s dynamism, and it was not a surprise to see him reintroduced at the start of extra time.
But he was hardly able to run, and he had to be substituted again in the second period of extra time.
There was no one of similar quality or energy to come on in his stead. Kearney had laid the standard for his team even before throw-in. The sides followed the Artane Band to terrific cheers from their supporters, but it was Kearney who broke first, urging his captain, Harnedy, to follow as he tore away from the formalities.
His readiness for the contest was mirrored by plenty in green, with Cian Lynch matching Harnedy stride for stride — and he played throughout, finally falling to the ground in the 87th minute, levelled by cramp.
Bill Cooper, the Cork centrefielder, fell beside him, and they lay hip-to-hip as medics tried against science to rub life into legs deadened by lactic acid.
The game had lost most of its shape by then, stretched out of
formation by tiredness, Cork desperation and Limerick’s determination to mind their advantage.
We could accept a minute or two of shapelessness at the end of a fabulous afternoon, a day that was a useful reminder of the tremendous good the GAA circulates through Irish life.
The weekend was a helpful corrective for those whose criticism of the GAA borders on the demented. The association has got an awful lot wrong over the past month, but the power of the games to move people is undiminished.
The good that sport in general does in the lives of people restated on days like yesterday.
It brings to mind the inscription on the statue of Bill Shankly that stands outside Anfield: He made the people happy.
Imagine the joy that will course through Limerick over the next three weeks. Fans will be strung out by the stress of finding tickets and accommodation and a way to pay for it all. And nothing will seem more important, or promise greater happiness.
Croke Park usually empties quickly, even after big matches. There was the famous occasion a few years ago when Kilkenny fans had left after an All-Ireland win before their team had completed a lap of honour, the players left to jog around amid black and amber streamers while the stands stood empty and silent.
There was nothing going to budge Limerick supporters after this. Stewards were pleading with them to go long after John Kiely had led his players off the field.
They eventually drifted off into the evening, heads scrambled and hearts swelled by the pure, intoxicating joy of it all.
These are the days of their lives.