Waterford 1-19 (22) Cork 2-17 (23)

Here we go then, the latest instalment of Gaelic games’ longest running freak show. Last year, Liam Hayes scornfully observed that the replayed Dublin – Meath Leinster football semi-final would be a bigger television draw than the Waterford – Cork Munster hurling semi-final, which were being staged at the same time. Hayes’ comments, while crass, seemed to be rooted in reality. Football is, after all, the more popular sport. No one is as popular in terms of pure numbers than the Dubs. The memory of the epic four game clash between Dublin and Meath in 1991 still resonates sixteen years on. And the drawn game of 2007 had been an exciting example of the genre. So everything pointed to the GAA public voting with their thumbs for the big ball game.

Vote they did, in decisive numbers for the hurling match. Even in retrospect it seems strange given that all the above reasons for plumping for the football still hold. That is to ignore the utterly compelling nature of matches between these Waterford and Cork teams. Since Waterford’s win in the 2002 Munster semi-final, the teams have met nine times in knockout matches (including one replay). On seven of those occasions there was only the famed puck-of-the-ball between the teams. With a history like that, it’s no surprise that the punters (spared the trip to Limerick) went for this latest installment, and it was to live up to billing.

Well, it lived up to the billing in the end, because it didn’t look like that for the first fifty minutes. Previous matches had a real winner-takes-all feel to them, even the Munster championship matches (don’t kid yourself that the Munster title means nothing any more; ask the Limerick players who ended last year empty handed whether they’d like to swap their season for ours). But this one was a ‘knockout’ where the winner would play Limerick and the loser would play Tipperary with, presuming both side progress to the semi-finals, no guarantee that they can avoid Kilkenny at that stage of the competition. So there was a relatively bloodless feel to this at the start.

With that in mind, I decided to implement a plan that had been bubbling under in my mind for as long as I’ve been attending GAA matches. You know those men – it’s always men – who make a note of each score and each wide on the match programme? The ability to separate oneself sufficiently from the hostilities for such bureaucratic niceties was always beyond me before. But given the less-than-crucial nature of this fixture, it seemed like a good idea to be one of those men, just for one day. So is it worth it? In a word, no. You generally know how well a player is doing to within a point or two, and knowing that John Mullane has scored five points from play rather than four doesn’t make it worth the hassle of reaching into your pocket after every score. When trying to remember everything for these match reports, I like to attempt to keep events contemporaneous rather than looking at other reports or watching replays. This makes the report a lot less reliable but it does provide a different (i.e. biased) perspective. But keeping the scores hasn’t made the task of remembering the ebb and flow of the match any easier. This report (like all the others) will have its structure determined by goals, which are easy to recall, while points are merely referred to as being scored in batches. The only definitive advantage of being kept informed by making notes is the wide count, and you’d rather scoop out your eyes than read that after Waterford have racked up twice as many as the opposition, so that’s no benefit at all. From now on, I’ll leave the record keeping to the newspapers and the nerds.

On with the match, which saw Waterford hit the ground running, Eoin Kelly bursting on to the first loose ball to score a point after a few seconds, then another bomb dropping in front of the full forward line broke to Dan Shanahan who went clean through on goal. He fluffed an effort to pick the ball up – bend the back, Dan! – and his weak effort was saved by Donal Óg Cusack, but Seamus Prendergast pounced on the loose ball to send a bobbling shot into the far side of the net. Cork hit back with a couple of frees from ‘No 24′ who was not in the programme, or at least I couldn’t find him at the time – perhaps the name was written in invisible ink. I thought he was another one of Cork’s young Turks, and it would worry me at the end that Cork could so effortlessly introduce a hit new talent while Waterford’s league campaign had produced no new talent in the forwards. Happily, it turned out to be Ben O’Connor, hardly a new face. It was our nemesis of two years ago, Cathal Naughton, who scored Cork’s first goal. It was a fine effort, eluding Declan Prendergast on the half back line then bearing down on goal before arrowing a cracking shot past Clinton Hennessy.

This was the cue for Waterford to fire over a string of fine points, with John Mullane and Seamus Prendergast giving their markers a particularly torrid time. There was a distinct lack of urgency to events though, with forwards getting an unusual amount of clean possession allowing them to score with relative ease. Cork were relying heavily on frees, with Pat Horgan knocking over the close range ones and O’Connor the ones further out. The only Cork player who did much from play was Lee Desmond, who would end the day with four points, a splendid total for a novice playing in midfield. But the frees kept coming, which should be a source of some concern to Waterford.

Of greater concern should be the form of Dan Shanahan. He did little enough against Dublin, a game in which he should have filled his boots, but I was happy to discount this as he will come good in the summer, right? Perhaps, but seeing him spurn a chance even more gilt-edged than the earlier effort on goal was enough to make you doubt the evidence of last summer. Waterford forwards ignored successive point scoring opportunities to work the ball into Dan in space but his shot, which had the man beside me leaping to his feet, so sure was he that it was going to wind up in the back of the net, was feeble in the extreme and easily saved by Cusack. In the ensuing scramble Eoin McGrath scored a point so not much harm done – not at that moment anyway.

Half time came with a remarkable 1-14 to 1-12 scoreline, championship quality shooting in March. The second half promised more of the same, except for the clouds ominously gathering overhead. Waterford opened the second half scoring via Seamus Prendergast, and then came the pivotal moment in the match. Waterford failed to adequately clear a high ball and Pat Horgan got through on the left of the goal. His effort was blocked but he managed to knock the ball across the face of the goal where the waiting Fintan O’Leary had the easiest of tasks to stroke the ball across the line. But wait a second, he had clearly been waiting for the ball and was a good two metres inside the small square. Now, I wouldn’t swear on my life that he had not moved towards the ball with the fleet-footedness of Fernando Torres or the space-time continuum shaping abilities of Nightcrawler, but the simplest conclusion was that it was a square ball. The umpires seemed to hesitate, but the referee was quite insistent – the goal was good. Should the referee defer to his umpires in those matters? Is he even obliged to, as a man behind me who was lucid enough throughout the game to spot the frees deservedly given against Waterford and the soft frees given to us, seemed to think in an observation to his young son? Ultimately I think the decision must lie with the ref, although I would be curious to know the basis on which he made his decision which, on the face of it, seemed to assume of Fintan O’Leary was in possession of the agility of a cheetah.

The task now was to avoid being rattled, and credit to Waterford for not moaning too much at the referee. This was not a precursor of things to come though, as Eoin Kelly missed a free, Cork continued to chalk up frees from all points of the field and Lee Desmond invoked the spirit of Mickey O’Connell in the midfield to leave Cork three points ahead where they had been three behind before the goal. Substitutions were made with the strangeness of withdrawing Eoin McGrath and Shane O’Sullivan, who had both scored two points from play, while leaving scoreless Dan Shanahan on the field, being lost amidst the jubilation of the return to the white and blue of Tony Browne. Meanwhile the scoring was generally becoming more difficult as the conditions had deteriorated and the backs who had previously been willing to let forwards away lightly were now putting the shoulder to the wheel. Waterford had oceans of possession, mostly thanks to Michael Walsh’s Herculean efforts, but Cork were proving doughty in the tight exchanges and the forwards were now succumbing to the old shoot-on-sight failings. Still, Cork were relying on frees and when the ref awarded a soft free to Waterford in the kind of range that even Eoin Kelly (who had missed a real doozie during this period of play) could not miss and draw Waterford level, the calculations were being made for extra time.

There was time for more Déise fury at the ref though. Cork were awarded a free right under the stand about 45 metres out. While many got their knickers in a right old twist over it, it seemed plausible that an infringement had taken place in the general melee. The only reason I mention it was seeing Michael Ryan presumably enquire of the linesman what that was all about only for the official to constantly shrug his shoulders. Not a ringing vote of confidence in the ref. Unfortunately for Waterford no such vote was needed for Ben O’Connor who stroked over his sixth free of the day, their tenth in total – hey, this record keeping lark is really neat(!) – to leave Cork in front in injury time. There was time for a Brian Phelan sideline to cause havoc in the Cork backline with Seamus Prendergast almost making an opening for a shot on goal before Cork were able to clear it and give their, ooh, fifty supporters (including the immortal Cyril Kavanagh aka Sombrero Man) something to cheer about.

It really doesn’t matter. Tipperary, Limerick . . . they’re both good and even should Tipp knock us out, it won’t provide firm evidence that we’d have been better off playing Limerick. After the trauma of Croke Park last August, we might be better off giving them a wide berth for the moment. But we’re at the stage where the team picked has to be the best XV, and only the sight of Jack Kennedy going great guns in the half back line is progress on last year. No disrespect to Shanes Casey, Walsh and O’Sullivan, but it’s not hard to see Paul Flynn being sent out in a wheelchair rather than rely on a replacement. The free taking is also an itch we can’t scratch. If hurling had a specials team rule, whereby a player could be brought on just to take the frees, I’d check out the local nursing homes to enquire about Kieran Delahunty’s availability. We’re not in awful shape – only the Cats hammered us sans Michael Walsh, and two one point defeats hardly presages disaster. We’ve gone beyond the point where we can plan for excellence though. As with the aforementioned Mickey O’Connell, we’re relying on something magical to click.

Waterford: Clinton Hennessy, Declan Prendergast, Kevin Moran, Aidan Kearney, Brian Phelan, Ken McGrath, Jack Kennedy, Michal Walsh (capt, 0-2), Eoin McGrath (0-2; Shane Walsh), Eoin Kelly (0-5, 0-4f), Dan Shanahan, Shane O’Sullivan (0-2; Tony Browne), John Mullane (0-5), Seamus Prendergast (1-3), Shane Casey

Cork: Donal Óg Cusack, Shane O’Neill, Brian Murphy, Cian O’Connor, Kevin Hartnett (Shane Murphy), Eoin Cadogan, Seán Óg Ó hAilpín, Steven White (0-1), Lee Desmond (0-4), Ben O’Connor (0-8, 0-6f), Tim Kenny, Tadhg McCarthy, Pat Horgan (0-4f), Fintan O’Leary (1-0), Cathal Naughton (1-0; Joe Deane)

HT: Waterford 1-14 (17) Cork 1-12 (15)

Referee: Johnny Ryan (Tipperary)

Waterford v Cork, 30 March 2008

A small step for Deise man

The most important match in Waterford GAA this weekend is in Tullamore against Offaly. Okay, not really, but it’s been a while since the footballers could claim to be in a genuinely interesting tie. Three wins on the bounce have doubtless left them contemplating something more meaty like promotion. But one glance at the current league table shows how the bottom three are the whippingest of whipping boys that were ever to be whipped. Progress has been made, but we’ll be better able to measure that progress this weekend.

Dialogue of the deaf

One of the biggest problems facing any sports organisation in the future, whether they be amateur or professional (all sports are amateur at the grassroots), is the need for volunteers to staff committees. Dealing with arcane principles, fuzzy precedents and appellants who are convinced of their righteousness to the point of completely abandoning reason, it’s a tough job but someone’s gotta do it, and people are going to get increasingly unwilling to do it out as our time becomes increasingly commoditised. Faceless bureaucrats, I salute you.

With that feint offered, now for the thrust. The decision of the GAA’s Central Competitions Control Committee (CCCC) to arrange a playoff between Waterford and Cork to decide who finishes second and who finishes third in Division 1A of the National Hurling League is unsatisfactory on every level bar one. There will be little desire among the populace to see such a match, the prize on offer of who gets to play Limerick being worth far less than, say, two league points. Staging it in Limerick must count as the wackiest use of the Ennis Road white elephant yet – JP McManus can keep his money, this will surely pay off the debt! When it was decided initially to give Waterford and Kilkenny a walkover in their respective league matches, the Cats pulled the stunt of offering to play the game anyway, an offer they knew would be rebuffed by the authorities but which made them look magnanimous and forcing Waterford to say that yes, we’d love to play the match but where would we fit it in in the club schedule? Now Waterford are going to have to play the match anyway when they’d have happily flipped a coin or even played it in someplace like Fermoy – did I mention the folly of playing it in Limerick?

In fact the only winners are Cork, who get to play a souped up challenge match against one of their main rivals despite their collective selfishness dragging the entire association to the brink of anarchy. Dostoevsky could have written a decent novel about it.

Update: some degree of sanity has been restored as the respective teams agreed to toss a coin over the venue thus sparing everyone the trip to Limerick. Karma dictated that Waterford would win the toss, and we did, so the match will be played in Walsh Park. Surely Fraher would have been a fairer venue, but sod fairness at this stage.

Waterford 3-18 (27) Dublin 1-17 (20)

First things first: an apology to Dave Bennett. The moment I expressed my pleasure at his return to the starting lineup was the moment I put my hex on the man. Flicking through the glossy-yet-insubstantial match programme, he was definitely listed at midfield. When the teams were read out though, he wasn’t there. I waited to see if he turned up in the forwards, but no joy there. Did he succumb to a last minute injury? Was his presence a shot across the bows of Eoin Kelly? You’d believe anything about Justin McCarthy’s silly buggers lineups.

How do you solve a problem like Dublin? On the one hand, they are a coming county, victories in the Leinster U-21 and Minor championships suggesting a bright future. They’ve also had a relatively decent record against Waterford in recent years, winning three on the bounce in the League between 2002 and 2004. On the other hand, that’s a load of patronising twaddle. Underage victories don’t amount to much at the highest level – if they did, Waterford’s goose would be well and truly cooked – and their last two matches against Waterford have been grim affairs, the Championship clash in 2006 noteworthy for the Dubs scoring in the first minute and the last minute and not raising a single flag in the 68 minutes in-between. It’s been galling in recent years to be routinely accused of lacking bottle, but it’s better than being patted on the head for giving it a go, the little county that could. Dublin are going to have to win games like this regularly before they can contemplate toppling Kilkenny from their perch on the top of the Leinster crow’s nest.

For Waterford, we have to hope that the newly open-nostrilled John Mullane will be like a new player, and the early signs were very good indeed. Gathering the ball ahead of his man and turning on a sixpence in (at his best) trademark fashion, he raced towards the goal and arrowed an unstoppable shot between Gary Maguire in the Dublin goal and the near post. A perfect start, and one which Waterford built on in blustery conditions that didn’t seem to favour either side. The pleasing thing for Waterford was they didn’t seem to be working particularly hard for their scores while Dublin were labouring terribly to even get openings, let alone score. Eoin Kelly did miss a relatively soft free, but he made up for it with a splendid effort on his weak side from under the stand, which showed how top hurlers should be proficient on both sides. With Clinton Hennessy routinely proving reliable under dropping balls and Brian Phelan and Michael Walsh playing a stormer in providing good ball into the forwards, Waterford looked like they were about to run away from Dublin, a sight that was confirmed when Mullane did run away from his marker to score what looked like a carbon copy of his first goal and put Waterford 2-11 to 0-3 ahead.

It would have been easy for Dublin to give up at this stage, and the manner in which Patrick Bergin reacted to Mullane’s second goal, a despairing pounding of the ground with his hurley, suggested that was about to happen. But he was substituted immediately after the goal – surely a coincidence as he had not been marking Mullane and the mentors could hardly have predicted his reaction, but a prescient one – and Waterford promptly went asleep. Dublin scored a point, then David O’Callaghan managed to elude Richie Foley, cut in along the endline and get in a shot. In the ensuing scramble Dublin got the ball over the line, to their evident delight and that of the decent Dublin contingent in the crowd. They then added on two more points before half time, thus scoring 1-3 in four minutes, effectively cancelling out John Mullane’s quicksilver efforts.

The early part of the second half was such a mirror image of the first half that you’d swear Walsh Park was tilted in a 45º angle towards the country end of the ground (some cynics about the quality of Walsh Park would say that this is the case anyway), so easy were Dublin finding it now while Waterford were huffing and puffing. It didn’t seem to be the wind that was causing problems as both goalies were getting similar distance on the puckouts. Whatever it was, Dublin were chipping away at Waterford’s lead, and if it weren’t for some solid freetaking from Eoin Kelly, we’d have been in real trouble. Yes, you read that right, Eoin Kelly banged over the frees as if he were, uh, Eoin Kelly, even sending a 65 over the black spot of the crossbar. Perhaps it was an illusion seen only in victory, but it seemed like he were striking the ball through a lower trajectory. Whether this was the case or not, he deserves a lot of credit for the manner in which he answered the knockers (ahem), and it kept Waterford’s retreat orderly.

It was still a retreat though, and it would have turned into a rout had Dublin scored a goal from the best opening they had. A fluffed clearance allowed Kevin Flynn to gather the ball with the entire Waterford back line around him, giving Paul Ryan space when the pass found him. What happened next could only be judged accurately from replays, and I’ve seen none. My best guess is that either a) Clinton Hennessy blocked the effort right down at the point of the strike, or b) Ryan missed the ball altogether. Either way, the ball looped up into the air and was probably drifting wide / out for a 65 when Hennessy lunged across to make sure no one was going to pounce on it. Dublin scored from the 65, but it was a massive let-off which kept Dublin hunting for the goal they probably felt they needed, especially with Eoin Kelly looking cool with the frees.

Although my sister was correct to point out post match that a goal for Dublin there and then would have changed this view, I was never truly worried as I might have been had it been one of the real hurling heavyweights. There was always a threat from the Waterford forwards as shown when we had a goal chalked off for a square ball – a correct decision which raised barely a murmur from the crowd when the flags were crossed by the umpire. This threat was rammed home when they did land a third goal, Ken McGrath linking up with Dan Shanahan to pour through a gap in the Dublin defence. I yelled for him to take his point but he spotted John Mullane over his shoulder and put him through to rifle the ball to the middle of the net from point blank range. It was a well deserved hat-trick, and hopefully a sign of things to come from him.

“Rain in Waterford! In March!”

The impetus now oozed out of the game like a balloon with a slow puncture. Points were exchanged but there was no way Dublin were going to close that gap. It was an entertaining enough afternoon, and a tonic for the debacle taking place concurrently at Old Trafford. John Mullane’s effervescent performance would brighten the darkest day, and Michael Walsh’s imperious display showed just what we missed in the second half against Kilkenny last weekend. The true value of the overall performance will only become clear when Dublin put on their Championship face. Until then, file under workmanlike.

Waterford: Clinton Hennessy, Richie Foley (Denis Coffey), Kevin Moran, Aidan Kearney, Brian Phelan, Ken McGrath, Jack Kennedy, Michael Walsh (capt, 0-1), Eoin McGrath (0-1), Dan Shanahan (0-1), Eoin Kelly (0-9, 0-6f, 0-1 65), Shane Walsh (Stephen Molumphy), John Mullane (3-4), Seamus Prendergast (0-2), Shane Casey (Pa Kearney)

Dublin: Gary Maguire, Philip Brennan, Stephen Hiney (capt), Patrick Bergin (P Kelly, 0-1), Michael Carton, Tomás Brady (Ronan Fallon), Joey Boland, John McCaffrey (0-2), Simon Lambert (0-1), Stuart Mullen (0-1; Ross O’Carroll), James Burke (0-1), Declan O’Dwyer (1-1; P Carton), Paul Ryan (0-1), Kevin Flynn (0-1), David O’Callaghan (0-8, 0-6f, 0-1 65)

HT: Waterford 2-11 (17) Dublin 1-6 (9)

Referee: Sean McMahon (Clare)

Waterford v Dublin, 23 March 2008

Old hurler redux

Tomorrow’s match against Dublin sees the return to the starting lineup of Dave Bennett. The theme of the League this year – as, and this is something I have realised while blogging about it, is the theme every year – is whether you can add a few new Championship quality hurlers to the mix. Bennett was once that player, having made his Waterford debut against Laois back in 1998 and scoring 2-1 for his troubles. He’s been in and out of the team (mostly out) ever since. In that context, bringing Bennett back smacks a wee bit of desperation. What are the management likely to find out about him that they didn’t know already?

For all of that, I’m glad to see him back. I’ve always viewed his yo-yo relationship with the starting lineup with incredulity. He seemed to suffer from Peter Crouch Syndrome, a condition where a player performs well in his own given roll but is the first to be hauled ashore when the manager thinks its time to shake things up and the first to be sent to the bench after a bad overall result while more illustrious players are continually forgiven for less-than-stellar performances. Bennett can usually be relied upon for a couple of points from play, which is all you can ask from a forward, and he is another option in the free-taking department. In fact, with Eoin Kelly having had another mediocre day with the place ball against Kilkenny, that might be the New Face that we need for the summer – a reliable free taker would surely be worth several points in just about every game. Here’s hoping.

An End To All Things

The Guardian ran a series recently where people did things for the first time. So Julie Bindel, a woman who both metaphorically and literally is a wearer of comfortable shoes, wore uncomfortable shoes for the first time. And Oliver Burkeman, an adult male born in Liverpool, went to a football match for the first time.

Even writing it now having read the article and his reasons, it seems extraordinary that a grown man from Liverpool has never been to a football match. A generation is growing up for whom the prohibitive cost of match tickets has made Anfield a place more alien than a castle in the clouds at the top of a beanstalk, but anyone I knew in Liverpool over the age of 25 remembers a time when the cost of access to the ground was no more than the price of a few beans. Even if you moved out of Liverpool at a young age, you’d come back at some point to see ‘rellys’ and they’d bring you to the match, right? That’s how it worked for Mrs d – she even went to the Pit before she went to Anfield, it was such a cheap day out (no change there then, ho ho). Mr Burkeman slipped through the cracks for reasons he gives in his account, so you’d better go and read it first, but y’all hurry back now, missing you already . . .

It was his friend, Adam, who came to mind during the evening when Inter became the latest club to be mown down by the machine that is Fernando Torres. Oliver Burkeman was caught up in the excitement of two top quality football teams (relatively speaking) going at it hammer and tongs in front of 40,000+ deranged fans. Having once been caught up in the excitement of a match between two relatively rubbish teams in the League of Ireland, teams who I cared not a jot about before that evening, it’s easy to see how that could happen. But when the dust settled, his heart rate returned to normal. By contrast, Adam was still wired to the moon.

Most telling was Adam’s insistence that if someone could guarantee that Liverpool would win every game 6-0, “that would be great”. Such a scenario would be anathema to the concept of competition, which people like Mr Burkeman think is at the heart of sport. It may have been when Old Etonians played Corinthians, but professional sport is tribalism, and members of the tribe like nothing more than to grind their enemies under the collective heel. Close wins are the stuff of legend, but the operative word is ‘wins’. The thrill of the chase doesn’t cut it any more, if it ever did.

The psychological trauma that motivated Adam’s desire for an end to competition was made clear by the match against Inter last Tuesday night. Any objective observer would tell you that Liverpool were in little danger. 2-0 up from the first leg and with Torres lurking with menacing intent on the edge of their penalty area limiting their ability to press forward, it wasn’t until early in the second half when Skrtel gifted the ball to Ibrahimovic that Inter truly threatened Liverpool’s goal. With the aforementioned Torres lingering like the ghost of Banquo, the aforementioned neutral observer would have been confident that Liverpool would conjure a goal on the break. So there was little to worry about.

(What a thrill Torres’ goal was when it arrived. Much like Michael Owen’s second goal in the 2001 FA Cup final, there was an exquisite moment between realising with the certainty of a seer that it was going to be a goal and the ball actually hitting the back of the net. Back then, it was because the camera angle showed you the path the ball would take in off the far post. This time, it was because you just knew he was going to do something spectacular and he didn’t let us down with an outrageous pivot and strike. Mean, moody and magnificent. Well, one out of three is more than adequate)

Little to worry about then, so why was I shaking like a blancmange in an earthquake? The thought that if we were to secure the ultimate prize we’d have to go through this five more times was enough to render me a complete wreck, and that’s before you factor in the possibility of away goals, extra time, penalty shoot outs and – Mother of Jesus come between us and all harm – the Mancs. We don’t even have the security of qualification for next year’s competition being a sure thing, although why putting us through this wringer year after year is meant to be a positive is anyone’s guess.

Someday the torment is going to prove too much. It has to, even if the tipping point turns out to be the moment before I keel over from a heart attack. Until that moment when I come to my senses, I’ll lurch from one trauma to the next, all the while treating the moments of beauty like Silas Marner treated his coins, polishing them and treating them like children, subjugating my entire being to savouring the next one . . .

The Waterford 31er’s

There were some real hidings in Gaelic games today, with Laois falling back to earth after their win last weekend over the hated Biffs as Galway put 6-26 past them with only 0-8 in reply, while Armagh hockeyed Roscommon by 22 points in the National Football League. The latter result was doubly startling because on hearing it first I assumed it was in hurling. A victory like that is of truly gargantuan proportions in football, but it would have been bad even in hurling. With that in mind, I asked my brother whether I am the only person who always makes a mental note of whether the losers in such mismatches managed to lose by even more than Waterford did in the 1982 Munster final. It seems I am not the only only one. Truly the scars never heal.

A place for everyone, and everyone in their place

No criticism of the Waterford hurlers is meant when I say their hearts weren’t really in it during the second half of today’s heavy defeat to Kilkenny in Nowlan Park. Really. There was nothing in the first half to suggest Kilkenny were going to accelerate away until Michael Walsh was sent off. With Waterford down to 14 men, we saw two stark contrasts in hurling:

1. You may be able to get the blood up in the heat of the Championship when you’ve had a man sent off, much like the raging bull performance in the 2004 Munster final after John Mullane had had his marching orders. But in front of a few thousand people in a match which Waterford don’t have to win to get to the business end of the League, forget about it.
2. While there’s a lot of blarney from Kilkenny folk about the intensity of their will to win under the winning-is-habit-forming regime of Brian Cody, there’s no doubt that everyone from 1 to 15 on the Kilkenny team is acutely aware of the need to keep their performance levels up for fear of some whippersnapper taking their place.

The difference was demonstrated midway through the second half when Kilkenny’s wing-back – it might have been Tommy Walsh [Edit: according to 'Micheál', the point was scored by Michael Rice; see Comments below] – advanced into the Waterford 45 down the right-hand side of the pitch. Ken McGrath put in a relatively half-hearted shoulder charge, one which Walsh rebuffed with ease before knocking over a fine point. Again, no criticism of Ken is intended with that, he’s put his body on the line for well over a decade now and has nothing to prove. But even Tommy Walsh can’t be complacent, and it showed today.

Dublin are up next Sunday, and Waterford are worse off than they were this time last year, when they could afford to lose to an inferior team and still make the knockout stages. A win would be enough for Waterford to reach the quarter-finals, but it’s not confidence inspiring.