Given this blog’s utterly cack record in the predictions department, a little bit of forgiveness will need to be sought for bigging up the one observation that looks sound. Paul Flynn’s flat townie drawl and borderline stoner gaze makes him an unlikely candidate to be a successful TV panellist. So credit to RTÉ for giving him a chance, because his penchant for incisive analysis commented upon here shone through last night on Sunday Sport. It was clear he actually watched the game, picking up on important switches and personnel changes. This may sound obvious, but it stood in stark contrast to Michael Duignan’s the-boy-done-good patter. His reference to the 1988 League and how Kilkenny and Tipperary experienced different results in the final from the group stages spoke of either a geek’s love of facts or a willingness to do some research, either (or both) of which will stand him in good stead. With Babs Keating on the radio being his usual garrulous self, it was a good day for hurling comment.
And what of the match? It didn’t seem to matter until it looked like we we were about to dish out a Kilkenny-style beatdown. Then, when Cork began another one of those ridiculous comebacks that have characterised their recent efforts, it suddenly mattered. Of the last five inter-county matches involving the 2008 panel, they gave the opposition a big start on each occasion. Only once – against Kilkenny – did they fail to overhaul said lead. Were we going to be like Galway, Clare (twice) and Limerick before us and succumb to their indomitable spirit (however much you might loathe the clowns, you have to doff the cap to their never-say-die attitude), or were we going to be like Kilkenny and pile on the pain?
In the end, almost predictably, we were neither. It was good that we leapt out into a 13 point lead, it was bad that we let them back into it, it was good that we held on when the match approached Championship intensity in the last quarter – another thing Paul Flynn had the wit to pick up on. Two steps forward, one step back.
