Ghosts of ‘94 are finally laid to rest by Limerick

IT was the unspoken fear. Hanging there somewhere between our conscious and our subconscious minds. We dared not acknowledge it openly for fear of giving it form. In a way we were afraid of fear itself.

Fear held us back from truly enjoying what it was that we were seeing. It was the fear of having the rug pulled out from under you. The fear that squandered chances would come back to haunt.

Even as a neutral it was hard not to get swept along with all things Limerick last week. They yearned for the ultimate and we yearned right along with them. Their joy was our joy. Their fear was our fear.

Unease and jangled nerves took hold during the first half. Nearly everything we were seeing signalled that they had this. The energy, the zest, the aggression all pointed towards a Limerick win.

Limerick were sharper than Galway, who looked a pale shadow of the side who threatened to overwhelm all before them with their power and pace and seemingly insatiable desire for scores earlier in the summer.

The Tribesmen were stopped dead in their tracks, almost quite literally so on occasion. When nine minutes in Seamus Flanagan sized up Gearóid McInerney and cleaned him out with a massive challenge a statement was being made, battle lines drawn.

The wides though, the wides. The wides kept on coming and with them our concern grew in tandem. Those were the type of wides you’re made to regret more often than not. A four point lead at the break seemed scant reward for a whirlwind thirty minutes.

At half-time we feared Limerick had not done enough. We feared that Galway would find their groove and put together one of those oh-so-devastating spells of crushing dominance, undoing all Limerick’s good work with just a couple of strokes of the ball.

It never materalised. What was good about Limerick in the first half was good about Limerick in the second half. If anything it was even more pronounced. The lead went from four to five, to six, to seven, to eight.

Limerick were playing like champions and even when Galway were threatening to make a game of it again–thanks-to a pair of points by the irrepressible Joe Canning – the Treaty had an answer.

Tom Morrissey seized upon a moment’s hesitation by McInerney and turned over the ball, before going on to score a brilliant individual goal. At nine points this race looked run and, yet, and, yet, the fear remained.

The spectre of ‘94 was there, hoovering like an unwanted guest at a feast. It felt almost farcical to even be thinking like that given how the game was playing out, but that’s what’s so insidious about the memory of that day and that final – there’s no such thing as home and hosed, not until the rotund lady does her thing.

An injury to James Skehill – incurred in a brilliant save against a Flanagan effort at goal – around the sixtieth minute mark held up play for a prolonged period and stopped Limerick’s momentum cold.

After Galway grew into the game and Limerick because visibly nervous, snatching at chances. Their lead went from nine to eight, to seven, to six, to five. If you weren’t thinking about ‘94 by then, you probably weren’t paying close enough attention.

Strangely enough for all that unease, that fear of fear itself, a complacency set in following Shane Dowling’s goal. This time it really did feel a fait accompli and that’s what made what followed all the more, eh, thrilling.

We watched with ever increasing dread as Galway forced their way back into the game. First with Conor Whelan’s goal and then Canning’s from the placed ball. It couldn’t possibly be happening all over again? Could it?

It could and, in hindsight, that’s what makes this Limerick victory all the more special. They stared down the ghosts of the past. They dug deep and overcame – if only just.

Okay some of these players weren’t even born in 1994 – certainly not twenty year old man of the match Kyle Hayes – but there’s a folk memory there and the idea that it could have happened to them too would rightly have struck fear in their hearts.

“I was talking to John Kiely in Croke Park afterwards and asked him, ‘John, honestly did ‘94 go through your head in the last few minutes?’ and he said it did,” Dowling admitted on Monday morning. “I spoke to six players – and I haven’t even spoke to Nickie [Quaid] and he is nodding his head – and it is just amazing, it went through every single person’s head.” A defeat like that could have crippled this young squad with self-doubt. Instead they’ve been liberated from it, the old Limerick of fear and doubt died last Sunday afternoon. In a way it’s a better way for them to have won the All Ireland this way than had they kicked on and won by the six or seven points their dominance deserved. The new Limerick has stared down its worst demons and emerged stronger for the experience. The outpouring of joy and relief ever since the final whistle was fully earned. Redemption came at long last. We can be forgiven for sharing in their exultation this once. Rejoice.