Ballygunner 1-17 (20) Lismore 0-19 (19)

Donal O’Grady said after the recent All-Ireland final that the best team always wins, that the scoreboard never lies. Well that’s grand, Donal, we can dispense with pundits altogether. Why bother with all that post-match waffle when any comment withers in the face of the irrefutable logic of the final score?

You can surely observe the sarcasm dripping from that last paragraph, so it’s important to add the caveat that the scoreboard does have its uses in determining who deserved to win. In a close game where there is never more than a couple of scores between teams, there are few controversial incidents and moments of genius / horrific clangers are evenly shared, it can clear the mind of the detritus generated by the ebb and flow of the match and your own hopes and fears. It would have been lovely had such a tight game ended in a draw, but there is a ruthless logic to the final score – Ballygunner just about shaded it.

While Lismore opened the scoring and should had a goal after ten minutes when Padraig Prendergast batted the ball wide when Maurice Shanahan’s mazy run had left the goal at Lismore’s mercy, Ballygunner made all the early running and could have been out of sight midway through the half. Three frees from Paul Flynn, one after a rather wild swing from Eoin Bennett that might have ended up in worse than the yellow card it got, and a point apiece from Andy Maloney and Shane O’Sullivan left Ballygunner well on top when their goal arrived. Pauric Mahony was put into the clear and it looked like an ideal situation for him to bat the ball across goal. This may have been in Brendan Landers’ mind which would explain how easily he was beaten at his near post by Mahony.

Goals supposedly win games, and the shock explained why Maurice Shanahan felt the need to go for goal with a free which was saved and cleared. It was almost curtains moments later when Paul Flynn capitalised on a stumble from Joxer O’Connor to get clear though on goal. Less money was lost by Anglo Irish Bank than by those of us mentally putting the house on this ending in a goal, but Landers made up for the earlier slip by blocking the shot and mopping up the rebound.

This gave Lismore a huge lift and they began chipping away at the lead. Dave Bennett provided his obligatory couple of points from play and Maurice Shanahan stayed unerring in the free-taking department, even serving up a cracking solo score from play. They were aided when Shane Bennett was in the right place to clear after Paul Flynn had managed to get the ball past the advancing Landers. That’s the charitable interpretation of what happened. For me, the Lismore defence played the man and not the ball and only their sheer numbers confused the ref into thinking it was good defending. Maybe it was good defending, but whatever way you cut it it was a lucky break for Lismore and when Dan Shanahan pulled first time on a loose ball in the 27th minute, it  flashed over the bar and the six point lead had been trimmed to one point. It was two frees to one for the remainder of the half and they went in level at half time.

Lismore kept the pressure up at the start of the second half, Maurice Shanahan keeping the frees ticking over including one monster from his own half. Stephen O’Keeffe – the Lismore version – also got a great point, a splendid hit on the turn from way out. At the other end Brian O’Sullivan put the ball wide when it seemed impossible to miss the target, and Gearóid O’Connor tried to repeat the trick of scoring a goal at the near post but Brendan Landers was wise to it this time. Ballygunner were beginning to wobble, typified by a loose pull from Fergal Hartley – Fergal Hartley! – which ended in a free where the ball landed and a soft score for Lismore. So it was just as well that Dan Shanahan was being his usual mercurial self, barreling through the defence then hitting air when he tried to kick the ball to the net, and finding himself caught in two minds having earned another goal scoring opportunity, hitting a soft wide.

At this stage, it looked like the game would be won by a show-stopping cameo, a storming goal from a Shanahan or, er, a Flynn. But the hero would appear in the unlikely guise of Andy Maloney. Points from Flynn and Stephen Power – “Ballygunner forward” – steadied the ship but Shane Kearney felt sufficiently confident after a great point with five minutes to go to punch the air with delight. Any delight Lismore felt would have oozed away in a matter of minutes as Maloney fired over two quick points from difficult positions, the second after a flubbed clearance by the Lismore defence. Five points from play, each one sent over the black spot on the crossbar and with total economy of effort. It was a hammer blow to Lismore and you could see the heads drop. Ballygunner went for the jugular with Mahony and Flynn points left them two points clear going in to injury time. James Shanahan tried to tee up a goalmouth scramble but the ball went over the bar off the post and Lismore had run out of time.

It was hard on Lismore. The final whistle was greeted with an errie lack of delight in the ground, confirmation that the vast majority of the crowd were rooting for them. The feeling of having missed the boat after last weekend’s missing of the boat will have been confounded having found themselves in a strong position heading in to the last quarter. But you couldn’t begrudge the Gunners. They only hit four wides in the entire game and had the outstanding performer of the day in Andy Maloney. His coolness under pressure was the difference between the teams. Let’s hope they can show that level of calm in the Munster championship.

Waterford United 1-3 Bohemians

I doubt that many people can claim to have been to a final of both the English League Cup and the Irish (FAI) League Cup. So before we look at the Blues’ efforts in the EA Sports Cup, let’s refresh our memories on how Liverpool did when we saw them in the 2003 Worthington Cup.

Hey kids, bet you didn’t know that that Michael Owen played for Liverpool back in the day!

Sticking with the history lesson, the 74,000 people at Cardiff may not have much in common with the 4,000 (?) who were at the RSC. But both competitions have always been the subject of much scorn. The English one was ridiculed as ‘Hardaker’s folly‘ in its early years and things haven’t improved since with a race to the bottom from managers to see how inept a team they can enter. The Irish one doesn’t seem to be much better regarded, a recent blog entry on eleven-a-side.com capturing a certain indifference among the League of Ireland faithful.

For all of that, only one manager – Arsene Wenger – can maintain the indifference when faced with being 90 minutes away from the silverware, and Pat Fenlon couldn’t walk the walk as he decided to field a full strength side (it says here). And while I may not know what players on the Bohemians team would be their top players – God be with the good ol’ days of Gino Lawless – it was the clear from the start, a flying break down the wing which led to a corner, that Bohs were of a different magnitude of quality to St Patrick’s Athletic. Their fans were confident enough to give a rendition of the Fields of bleedin’ Athenry before they had their first real opening, a dubious offside flag saving the Blues from an early goal.

It couldn’t save them for long though. After eight minutes the ball popped up in a melee just outside the Blues penalty area and struck a hand. Initially I thought it was a Bohs player but it wasn’t clear enough for me to be able to contradict the decision to give it the other way (not that that stopped everyone around me). Up stepped Killian Brennan who clipped the ball over the wall and Michael Devine could only help the ball on its way into the net. There wasn’t much pace on the ball and you were left wondering whether Devine could have done better in getting across.

At the risk of being pounded for chastising one of the real stars that are still playing for Waterford, one of the biggest differences between the teams were the goalkeepers. Countless times the Blues would send a well flighted ball into the box, and invariably the ball would stick like glue to Brian Murphy’s gloves – continental coaches don’t put great stock by that kind of thing, their attitude being that they’d rather you punched it rather than taking the risk of dropping the ball into the mix, but when you consider how much cross-channel pundits fetishise being able to catch the ball (“why didn’t he CATCH it?!”) I’m surprised that such a talent on Murphy’s part hasn’t seen Daddy Football League come calling.

Or maybe they have and he doesn’t feel the need to go because he’s already earning big bucks with Bohs, the kind of bucks the Blues can only dream of. Joseph N’Do, who I was informed at half time had played for Cameroon in the World Cup, was having the freedom of the left wing and the Blues were doing well to snuff out much of the neat interplay that was threatening to cut them open, Seamus Long doing particularly well to clear a ball that had pinged up into the air. The Blues were relying completely on set pieces which as mentioned already were being handled by Murphy with aplomb. The only chance the Blues got in the early stages with this tactic was when a defender headed the ball to Vinny O’Sullivan who blazed a difficult chance over the bar.

The desire to carve out those set pieces led to one blatant dive by Vinny O’Sullivan, the non-award of the free kick bringing a cacophony of boos from the Ultras behind us. The inadequacy of referees is a common refrain over on BTID and this seemed to be confirmed a couple of minutes later when a Bohs forward crumpled over the in the box. Now, the moment he got the ball heading away from goal with John Kearney behind my wife leaned forward and said “he’s going to dive!” and down he went. It looked blatant, his knees buckling and arms flying up in the air. Reading reports on the match later on, they all seemed to agree it was a push and a needlessly conceded penalty. At the time though (and not having seen any replays, the feeling still lingers despite those reports) it looked like a dive and I couldn’t believe the ref, who hadn’t fallen for Vinny’s dive, had been duped. Brennan rolled the penalty into the corner and the Blues ‘ goose was cooked.

At this point you feared a massacre. I felt most sorry for the committed fans, not just because it was inherently depressing that the trophy was slipping away but because they must have been yearning for a barnstorming performance to keep the day trippers coming back. The Blues were fortunate not to concede anther penalty not long after the goal, John Kearney going flying over the top and injuring himself in the process. This was more of a penalty than the one that was awarded but the ref stopped play for the ‘injury’. Any feeling of gratitude was snuffed out when the ref insisted the Blues kick the ball back to Bohs. The aura of uselessness clinging to Derek Tomney was emphasised when Dave Warren got involved in some handbags with a Bohs player. Result? Bohs free. Thank for nothing, mate.

You wondered all through whether Bohs had something in reserve. This feeling was heightened when they had a two-on-one break. It should have been a goal but the Bohs forward opted to shot from about thirty yards out. Such self-indulgence would have been punished by a just God. But the universe is unfair, and this was demonstrated moments later when Neale Fenn tried one from a similar distance. It was a decent effort but Devine had it covered all the way – right up to the point of impact when his effort to prevent pushing it over the bar only saw him fall back in to the net and the ball followed him in.

Darn. Couldn’t really exclusively blame the ref now, not that it stopped us at half time (ho ho). The Blues needed to hit the ground running in the second half to prevent an exodus and they certainly started with greater purpose, Graham Cummins shooting over and then earning a corner which was gathered by Murphy. As they threw caution to the wind it was inevitable that they’d leave more gaps at the back though. Kenny ‘Fletch’ Browne’s penchant for side-stepping attackers is handy in situations like this as it unsettles defenders not expecting the ball to be sent back to them so soon. This is great until it goes wrong when it’s not so great. Stephen Grant needed to go hareing to the rescue at one point, and the offside flag / a brilliant Devine save helped out on another. The Bohs fans had found their voice at this stage, which showed that the Blues weren’t doing any lasting damage.

Bohs were content to try and get a fourth on the break and it was going to take something spectacular or a gaff to get Waterford a goal. Willie John Kiely tried the spectacular from a cleared corner, a bicycle kick flying over the bar. John Kearney also tried the spectacular on a few occasions, galloping from defence like he was going to go all the way on his own. It was from such a break that Cummins was able to tee up Vinny O’Sullivan but he blazed his shot over the bar when he really should have scored.

But like Robert the Bruce’s spider, try try try again. Combine a Kearney break with – finally! – some less than authoritative handling from Brian Murphy from a free and you have Kearney playing the ball back in for Kenny Browne to smash the ball home from close range. This should have been the cue for a grandstand finish, and Bohs did wobble for a couple of tantalising minutes. A pile up in the box after a corner eventually led to an opening for Vinny but his shot was well saved by Murphy. Then we had a playground charge towards the box which ended up in what looked like another dive, the sort that probably would have led to a free had a Bohs player done it. Soon after Willie John Kiely found himself in space in the box with his back to goal but he seemed caught in two minds as whether to shoot or lay it off and ended up playing a harmless ball wide. A couple of Waterford headers in injury time rounded it all off comfortably enough for Bohemians in the end.

I was convinced the Blues were going to win before the game. It’s meant to be, innit? The gap between a team who a few months ago were aspiring to play in the group stages of the Champions League and one who, well, had no such aspirations was too great though. Everything needed to go right for the Blues and with unhelpful refs and goalkeeping clangers it was a case of nothing going right. It was a gallant effort, and perhaps the softer opposition in the Cup represent a more realistic prospect. That would be some consolation.

Waterford United 1-1 St Patrick’s Athletic

When the FAI and the League of Ireland moved to summer soccer, they would have had days like last night in mind, a splendidly balmy evening in the sunny south-east. If some market research ponytail had canvassed my opinion before the switch, I would have enthusiastically insisted that I’d be a regular at the RSC if only we could get away from the grime of winter.

The problem with this is that going to the game is habit-forming, and there were always going to be people used to the traditional season who were going to be put out, much as the end of terraces in England led to a lot of people opting out of the weekly routine. Lots of other groups emerged to replace the Echo-wielding piss artist (literally). It wasn’t necessarily terraces that put off black people, women and families from going up the ground, but there was a sea change just after Italia ‘90 that increased attendances. The change hasn’t happened here in Ireland as the people that summer soccer was aimed at have stayed away. People like me, I guess.

Still, here I am now. As stated at the beginning, this was the perfect evening for live sport, warm enough that you could do without a jumper until the last few minutes yet no sun in your eyes. Moaning about the crowd, or lack thereof, is a well worn canard at this stage, but last night saw another curiosity. When the match kicked off it was probably the poorest crowd of the three I’ve been to this season, which was a shock when you consider there were a decent number of St Pat’s fans and this was a knockout match. With television cameras loitering around us with intent, it all felt a little exposed. Perhaps I imagined it, but it seemed that  by half-time the numbers had swelled to almost respectable proportions. I’m well familiar with people leaving Anfield early – sometimes after an hour! – but arriving late en masse was a new one.

If people did turn up late, they missed a much improved Blues performance over the effort  over UCD. Midway through the first half, a seven year old in our company asked why the Blues could play so well against Premier Division opponents while struggle against First Division teams. Ah, from the mouth of babes. There was no answer to this eternal question against Pats as the Blues hit them hard from the off. After an initial few exchanges of long ball play, the half settled down into the Blues pushing their opponents back at every opportunity while keeping hold of the ball. Considering the turgid performances in previous games this was refreshingly aggressive from the Blues. One early incident saw Willie John Kiely, goalless since the old King died, harassing the Pats defenders to the point where he managed a small sight of goal but could only blaze over. It was a foreshadow of what was to come after quarter of an hour as some good approach work led to two chances which were both spurned as the player wanted an extra touch. But Pats couldn’t clear it and the ball seemed to bobble just as Kiely hit it on the turn and it flew into the top corner. It was a thoroughly deserved goal, fully justifying the frenetic efforts of the Ultras to make some noise.

Usually it’s the away fans you can rely on to make the most noise, fuelled up as they usually are by the camaraderie of long shared journeys and alcohol, and I went along expecting a rousing performance from the Pats fans. So it was a pleasant surprise to see it was the Blues faithful who were leading the charge. I doubt this is typical, but the presence of a top Dublin club which allowed the fans to deploy an arsenal of anti-Jackeen songs – did you know Inchicore is full of smack? – allied with the presence of the Monday Night Soccer cameras there for a feature on the Blues revved up the committed in the new stand. Ironically, the one moment that was indisputably useable by RTÉ – the amount of bleeping on the other songs might get prohibitive – was missed by the camera man. Cue a hilariously lame attempt to replay the moment at the half time whistle, one that was probably used by Jeff Kenna to ‘inspire’ the players at half time.

Not that they would have needed much inspiration, as despite oceans of possession and a lot of endeavour the Blues didn’t really threaten the Pats goal, and the last five minutes saw the alarm bells ring. Gary Dempsey, former Blue and alleged freetaker extraordinaire, lived up to both the freetaking title and the cliché about returning players – especially pertinent on the day that Emmanuel Adebayor made such an arse (pun unintended) of himself – as he rattled the crossbar with a sweet effort. Then Pats cut Waterford open after some hesitancy in defence and really should have scored, their strikers effort going narrowly wide. Pats started the second half in much the same fashion and a catalogue of clangers almost gifted them the equaliser. Good attacking play down the left found the Waterford forward in no man’s land and he played the ball back towards the halfway line where it was predictably intercepted. The initial attack broke down but Mick Devine sliced the ball to the mulleted Pats forward Ryan Guy who tried to pivot and strike first time when a little more cool was needed and the ball went wide. Way too close a call.

The Blues had stopped the rot by the midway point of the second half though, helped by the rampaging runs of Graham Cummins and some Alan Hansen-esque play in defence from Kenny ‘Fletch’(?) Browne. Pats were still threatening, Guy in particular trying to it all on his own on a few occasions and almost succeeding. Pats would get the equaliser though in an irony-laden fashion. It had superficial similarities to Waterford’s goal, although there was a lot more pinball involved in it, and the aforementioned Adebayor syndrome reared its head as Gary Dempsey was the man to finally smash the ball home from close range.

It hadn’t been coming, but Pats deserved it on the run of play. The big worry now was that the outfit with more full time players would squeeze the life out of the part-timers. It didn’t happen that way and in the end it was the Blues who ended the game on the up, making the keeper work with a free and having a Ginger McLoughlin-style pileup in the box where the ball could have ended up going anywhere. In the end, it was a fair result. Waterford will feel they have missed a boat that doesn’t come around often and you have to wonder given the even nature of the match whether Pats have something in reserve – they have to. For all of that, it was a tremendous evening’s entertainment. You could see yourself caring.

Waterford United 0-1 UCD

Is there a wackier club in any sport than UCD? So poverty-stricken are their supporter numbers that the usual appeals to the referee have an unusual aspect. Early in the game there was a kerfuffle in the Waterford box and the cry of ‘penalty!’ went up. From one person. On the UCD bench. Cue gales of laughter. What a hopeless bunch!

But they can play soccer, or at least they can play it to the extent that they took Waterford to the cleaners last night, the 1-0 result completely flattering the Blues. When UCD deservedly took the lead with 20 minutes to go, sweeping a clearance in to the box for David McMillan to score from close range, the silence in the ground was deafening. You almost felt sorry for the players. Then again, it does mean they don’t have to put up with this.

Having got that dose of self-pity out of the way, it falls to me to ask how the Blues got it so wrong. Talking to people around me, they agreed that the second half of our – can I say that? – win at the Belfield Bowl (?) was one of our best performances of the season. And when Kevin Waters whipped in a cross in the first minute which was frantically cleared by the UCD defence, it looked like Waterford were picking up where they left off. It is not an exaggeration to say that this was as good as it got though.

It started with an effort from forty yards that just cleared the top of Michael Devine’s crossbar. Speaking of Mick – can I say that? – Devine, he has a reputation as being one of the League’s top goalies but I must confess that on the previous occasions I’ve seen him (the notorious Ipswich game and the replay in the FAI Cup against St Pat’s way back in 1999, I think it was), he has dropped the ball right on the toe of the opposition striker. So it was perversely marvellous to see what all the fuss has been about as Devine kept the Blues from being completely stuffed. One save in particular, getting low to his right to save a strike from all of 12 yards out, was the stuff of fantasies. Apart from that there was two flying saves to shots from distance and a firm gathering of the ball under pressure when the defence really should have taken responsibility to deal with it. A flawless performance all round.

Why did he have to be so good though? Liverpool fans are well familiar with the problem of not getting ball wide. For Waterford, the opposite was the case. Everything was either a hoof for Graham Cummins – a sometime centre back it seems – to try and gather or galloping down the wings. The quality of the crosses was uniformly excellent, but it was rather predictable. Compare this with UCD who repeatedly ran at the Blues defence who repeatedly backed off allowing UCD to repeatedly shot from distance forcing Devine into those flying saves and on two occasions seeing shots fizz past the post which everyone was convinced were in. Half time couldn’t come soon enough.

Yep, this was all in the first half. The second half got off to a great start for Waterford when Greg Bolger was sent off for a two-footed tackle. It looked a wee bit harsh at first blush but the manner in which the ref whipped the red card out with venom suggested he may have seen some extra intent in the tackle and conversations later on with people better placed would confirm this.

With rain having made conditions very heavy underfoot this was a good time (not that there’s a bad time) to be a man up. Incredibly though the Blues failed to push on. Indeed there was only one short period in the middle of the half when they kept UCD on the back foot. The only clear cut chance was a fluke, a swirling corner that the UCD goalie flapped at. In the subsequent confusion it looked like the ball had gone in but it was only the goalie trashing around in the net and there were only muted appeals from the Blues. UCD always looked menacing on the break and this was even more apparent after they took the lead, one mazy dribble almost yielding a second goal and generally keeping Waterford pinned back in their own half when they should have being laying siege to UCD’s penalty area. There was one mad scramble late on when the ball somehow stayed out but there was no pattern to Waterford’s play and UCD ran out deserving winners.

So to go back to the beginning: how did the Blues get it so wrong having got it so right in Belfield? I’m tempted to say that UCD learned more from the defeat, adopting a strategy that neutralised whatever it is that Waterford got so right that day. Hopefully Stephen Henderson will have spotted the flaw and react accordingly, because this was a seriously flawed performance.

Waterford 3-15 (24) Kilkenny 2-23 (29)

As the dust has settled in the days following another exciting game involving the Waterford hurlers, I’ve been forced to ask myself whether I am sticking my head in the sand by being relatively pleased with how things turned out. Plenty of people on the intrawebs who are not habitually given to ridiculing Waterford were quite dismissive of our efforts, feeling that Kilkenny had plenty left in the tank and that some criminal wides and bad choices had left the Déise boys failing to fulfil their potential. Was it delusional to be so content after yet another defeat in Croke Park?

The first point to be made in what is going to be an extensive defence of Waterford’s performance is the usual fatalist one – it could have been worse. Not only was the 23-point drubbing last September hanging over the game like the sword of Damocles, there was also the small matter of the curtain raiser. As we walked along the Royal Canal we heard a roar from the ground and the chant of “May-o! May-o!” went up. Things were clearly going well for the county that I habitually use as a lesson in not getting your hopes up. We reached our seats in the Upper Hogan just in time to see Meath equalise and then watched with resignation as they rattled off five points to put the match beyond Mayo.

If expectations weren’t high before this, now they were lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut. But that’s not low enough as an adequate defence mechanism, so it was time to dwell on my wretched record in Headquarters. I hadn’t seen Waterford win there since 1998 against Galway. In the meantime we’d contrived to lose to Kilkenny, Clare, Cork, Cork again and Kilkenny again. The best I could show was a draw with Cork in 2007. Before these thoughts were so overwhelming that you’d feel like ending it all off that convenient drop a few rows ahead, the only other time I’d been in the Hogan Stand had been for that Galway game. Onwards and upwards, eh? Eh?!

Still, every game starts at 0-0 to 0-0 and if everything went Waterford’s way they’d have a chance. And I’m going to state in advance that lots of things went Waterford’s way. They got off the mark with a great score, Shane O’Sullivan curling a delightful sideline cut over the bar. Kilkenny were soon in front but Waterford then got another break, Shane Walsh having the simple task of batting the ball past PJ Ryan after a mazy dribble from Kevin Moran. The goal was a huge boost for Waterford on many levels. Quite apart from the three points – always handy – it showed that we could score goals and provided a swing in momentum towards us at an early stage. When you consider how the match last year was already slipping away from us in the first ten minutes, it was important to put manners on Kilkenny.

Speaking of putting manners on people, I had been pretty polite in the opening exchanges and would remain quite mellow throughout – with one noteworthy exception. Waterford were competing brilliantly in the breakdown and Kilkenny had even hit a wide or two before they got their first chance to really flex their considerable muscles, Henry Shefflin combining expertly with Eddie Brennan to put the latter clear and bat the ball past Clinton Hennessy. So the Cats were already in front when Eoin Murphy deliberately hauled down Brennan as he powered towards the goal. The free was a long way out and Shefflin is no Paul Flynn or DJ Carey so the logical thing to do would have been to pop the ball over the bar. It’s impossible to know exactly what was going through his head as he teed up the free, but for some reason I got it in to my head that he was fuming at Waterford’s brazenness in Murphy’s ‘professional’ foul and he decided to inflict maximum damage for the insult. Duly he went for goal and a poor effort it was too, easily saved by Hennessy. By the time Kilkenny’s follow-up had drifted wide – another improvement from last year, Kilkenny now had at least two wides – I was foaming at the mouth at such disrespect. Perhaps I’m exaggerating, but Shefflin would have a similar chance in the second half when the ball was moved in and he knocked it over the bar. If he had been taught a lesson that he shouldn’t assume that the Waterford bitches would tamely let him lash home any free he liked then this was progress.

The game was definitely on, and you wonder if John Mullane had been less fired-up whether it might have turned out differently. Twice he received clean possession only for the ball to pop out of his hand like a bar of soap, and he hit one wide that he would normally have put over had he been on his knees. The theme of Waterford not taking their chances has surfaced repeatedly over the last couple of days but I’m inclined to be more charitable. You can’t get every score and we weren’t noticeably more profligate over the 70 minutes than Kilkenny. There’s no doubt though that momentum can play an important part and misses like that followed so closely by scores for the opposition can be a killer. So it proved with Kilkenny’s second goal, a poor clearance being returned back down the field with interest and Aidan Kearney took his eye off the ball for one horrible split-second, allowing Henry Shefflin to have the freedom of the 21-metre area. It wasn’t a gimme, coming over his shoulder at pace, but like all good strikers he had anticipated the error and was able to pirouette and first-time the ball past the advancing goalie.

The temptation to throw your hat at it after a blow like that must have been immense, and it is to Waterford’s credit that they didn’t let it fester, getting the next two scores including one splendid effort from Kevin Moran. Kilkenny finished the half on the up though, leading by six points at the break. What to expect from the second half? Waterford had competed manfully and the performance was at the upper-end of expectations. And yet they were still six points down. Play any worse and the best we could hope for would be a 13-point defeat. Everyone had to go right in the second half.

Here’s the thing: plenty did go right for Waterford. The second half got off to an absolute flier as Shane Walsh eluded his marker and booted the ball to the net. My wife, chugging on a train through the north of Britain, got online on her phone long enough to see that it was 2-12 to 2-9, which clearly told her things were going well. Eoin McGrath and Kevin Moran chalked up infuriating misses, but at the other end it was arguable that Kilkenny were doing even worse with one gilt-edged goal opportunity being spurned as it came off Declan Prendergast’s arse, another effort to set up a chance dribbling embarrassingly wide, and yet another hustled out for a 65.  These were all opportunites that would have buried us but were spurned, and Kilkenny were concerned enough for Shefflin to put aside the aforementioned hubris and slot a potential goal-scoring free over the bar.

I’ve never claimed to be an expert on hurling matters, and if you want a proper match report then there are plenty of places to find one. There are times though when you wonder whether your small opinion is the most obvious thing in the world yet the people on the sideline can’t see the wood for the trees. At this stage, the Waterford team needed shaking up. All that effort, all those breaks, yet it was proving infuriatingly impossible to wear them down. The Kilkenny backs were on top and Henry Shefflin was having one of those days, shaking off markers with the typical elan that has made him such a legend and keeping their scoreboard ticking over, missed goal opportunites be damned. And yet no activity from the Waterford mentors apart from some perfunctory warming up by Dan Shanahan. Looking up at the scoreboard to see that there was only twenty minutes left, you wondered what any sub was meant to do in the remaining time. The fact that Dan couldn’t make an impact when he did come on, certainly akin to what he did against Galway, was almost incidental. The habit that all sports managers seem to have of sticking with a lineup that has worked well but not well enough is frustrating.

Especially so because Waterford seemed to be having all the luck going, or at least were capitalising on every sniff of a goal chance. Dan and JJ Delaney seemed to get to the ball at the same time and in the ensuing tug-of-war the ball went for a 65. It looked like one to me although both my siblings were doubtful. We also disagreed on what to do with the 65. They thought Eoin Kelly should take the point, I thought he should drop it in - no point in kidding ourselves that anything other than goals were going to win this for us. He must have been listening to me because the ball was lobbed in to the square. To put into context just how crazy what happened next was, can you imagine if it had happened to Waterford? All the talk of bottlers and losers and whatnot would have been overwhelming. As it was, it was PJ Ryan and co who, under no pressure whatsoever, let the ball squirm into the net.

Cue a grandstand finish as the blizzard of substitutions that should have happened earlier took place, not least one Kenneth McGrath. It wasn’t too late, especially with Eoin Kelly having one of those purple patches where everything he struck hit the target. Kilkenny though, led by Shefflin in his pomp, held it together. As the clock ticked down it was clear we were going to need two goals. One of them almost arrived right on the stroke of the end of the 70, Kelly overhead-pulling first-time on a ball that had popped up in front of him. It was a breathtaking hit, but PJ Ryan made up for his earlier gaff with a spectacular flying save. Even the point that resulted from the save was a better result for Kilkenny as we weren’t going to get two more plays in the remaining minute.

I’m not convinced that Kilkenny had a lot left in the tank had Waterford been able to muster a late charge. It would be generally accepted that Tipperary are the team best equipped to take them down, but their tactics will doubtless consist of hoping that they’re within a few points with a few minutes left then catching them on the hop. Certainly no one will be thinking in terms of running away from Kilkenny. With that in mind, Waterford definitely rattled Kilkenny’s cage on Sunday. As for our own performance, I don’t think there was much room for improvement. There were not that many bad wides, and Kilkenny will have more cause to point the finger at their own players for blunders than we would. And we had all that luck. So despite being close to 100% in terms of output and getting as many breaks as anyone can reasonably – or even unreasonably - expect, we still came up short. Yet I’m still pretty chuffed with how it panned out. It’s the first time in four cracks at the Cats that Waterford can be said to have maximised their potential. On Sunday we played a team who are probably the best there has ever been. In 1998, we lost to a score of 1-11. In 2009, we lost to a score of 2-23. We might not get that close again, and we can be certain that some  players, Tony Browne in particular, will not be there to help the cause. But Kilkenny can’t keep these standards up forever. Some day we’ll be able to match 1-11 from them with 3-15 from ourselves. I just hope I’m there to see it.

Waterford: Clinton Hennessy, Eoin Murphy, Aidan Kearney, Noel Connors, Tony Browne, Michael Walsh, Declan Prendergast, Shane O’Sullivan (0-1), Kevin Moran (0-1), Seamus Prendergast (0-1; Dan Shanahan, 0-1), Stephen Molumphy (Jamie Nagle), Shane Walsh (2-0; Maurice Shanahan), John Mullane (0-1), Eoin Kelly (1-9, 0-6f, 1-0 65), Eoin McGrath (0-1; Ken McGrath)

Kilkenny: PJ Ryan, Michael Kavanagh, JJ Delaney, Jackie Tyrrell, Tommy Walsh, Brian Hogan, John Tennyson, James Fitzpatrick (0-1; Derek Lyng), Michael Rice (0-1), Henry Shefflin (1-14, 0-7f, 0-1 65), Martin Comerford (TJ Reid), Eoin Larkin (0-2), Eddie Brennan (1-2), Richard Power (0-1), Aidan Fogarty (0-1; Richie Hogan, 0-1)

HT: Waterford 1-9 (12) Kilkenny 2-12 (18)

Referee: Barry Kelly (Westmeath)

Waterford United 2-1 Limerick

The chief guest at the wedding at Cana was aggrieved that the best wine was saved until the end of the reception. He could have been talking about this Waterford sporting weekend, for the champagne came in Thurles after the Blue Nun had been quaffed in the RSC. It’ll be hard to cast a non-jaundiced eye over my first competitive home Blues of the 21st century after the excitment against Galway, but I’ll try. Honest.

The first thing to ponder is the price. Having paid €15 for the Ipswich ticket last week – okay, €10 as we got three for the price of two – I assumed that it would be cheaper on Saturday. The piece in the programme notes where they noted that they had considered putting prices up for that game but decided not to screw the loyal half-thousand had clearly sailed over my head, and after the initial WTF reaction, it struck me that that wasn’t too bad. What did I consider good value? €10? €8? Cutting prices would not lead to any more visitors and putting them up would probably lose them a few punters so they’ve probably pitched the prices just right. And the €200 price of a season ticket seems like excellent value. That wouldn’t buy you four seats in the Kop.

Rolling up to the RSC with my brother-in-law in tow, eager as he was to add another location on his Facebook application showing sports venues visited – ranging from Anfield, Old Trafford and the Millennium Stadium at the top to Selhurst Park and Fratton Park at the bottom – we handed over our money and received a big grin along the way. Being friendly or pleasure at seeing a new face? Probably the latter, because at the risk of blowing the big reveal from this post we were immediately confronted by the biggest problem facing the League of Ireland – lack of atmosphere. Initial feelings of awkwardness soon faded. They were probably a consequence of not having done this for such a long time and being nervous we’d end up in the wrong place. But the way individual voices echoed around the stand was excruciating. It’s classic Catch-22. You won’t get the crowds if there is no atmosphere, but you won’t get the atmosphere if there are no crowds.

I’ve watched a good few hurling matches where there was man and a dog present, so could the quality on offer or the lure of the Waterford brand overcome these concerns? My suspicions after the Ipswich game that a more even match-up with a competetive edge would prove more engaging were confirmed. The Blues were clearly the better team with the odd purple patch from certain players proving decisive at key points. Defender John Kearney looked the pick of the bunch early on and it was his calculated punt into the box which unlocked the Limerick defence, good control from *checks match report* Paul Walsh allowed the Blues to put the ball into the mix. If a Waterford player didn’t get to it a Limerick defender would find it hard to avoid it and so it proved, the ball looping into the net off Brian O’Callaghan. It was a good goal, but there was that whole atmosphere problem again -  a pregnant pause followed  while people digested this event. If there had been people behind the goal it would have been immediately obvous to all. There was almost an apologetic air about the celebrations that eventually followed.

What came next was typical of soccer, and indeed sport, the world over as the Blues failed to push on despite their manifest dominance. The only noteworthy moment in the first half was a dive by the Limerick no 9 which was correctly punished by the ref with a yellow card. By half time I was seriously wondering why I had bothered. The other potential hook, that of this being Team Waterford, was not massaging any emotional lobes. This had nothing to do with the team consisting of blow-ins, a charge routinely laid against the Blues by GAA types. In fact, the notes in the (rather good) programme demonstrated that seven or eight players were from the Waterford / Tramore area which is a good core to have in any team. It’s just . . . I was having to fake enthusiasm, and that’s no way to follow a team.

Then early in the second half, a curious thing happened. The Blues failed on probably four occasions to get rid of a ball that was just begging to be put in to row Z, or at least over the running track. Danger was only averted by a poor effort at goal from a Limerick forward. By the time I had calmed down, it was just possible to see the beginnings of actually caring a little bit about the outcome. Interest in a team doesn’t come from the womb or the drinking water, it has to be cultivated. Had I known the characters involved enough to be able to go “ah for f***’s sake, XYZ!” then it’s not hard to see some real interest developing. If I want to get the most out of the Blues then the onus is on me to make an investment, not the other way round. Catch-22 is all very well, but is that just an excuse to rationalise not going?

It was a bit easier to get involved now, and it helped that top scorer Graham Cummins stepped up to the plate. His runs became increasingly more threatening and one such foray culminated in a penalty shout that looked a bit optimistic to me but was awarded after some prevarication on the referee’s part. The penalty was terrible but it popped up from the save in such a way that much as with the own goal earlier it could only be finished by a Blue or knocked into his own net by a Limerick player and Cummins duly did the needful.

2-0 up and that should have been that. Limerick began to threaten a little more as the Blues withdrew a bit. Michael Devine flapped at one cross, but butter knives have more cutting edge than the Limerick attack and it was going to take something daft / special for them to get back into it. The daft was the awarding of a penalty when no one hit the deck and it  seemed that the ball struck no hand. Devine and another Blue got booked, so vehement were their protestations, which only shows that the habit of trying to lay down a marker for future 50-50 moments is a universal trait. The special was a brilliantly dispatched penalty, struck low and hard so that Devine wouldn’t have saved it even if he had known where it was going. There was to be no late grandstand finish though as the Blues closed the game out with commendable coolness . Three useful points earned.

So the $64,000 question: is that the weekly wage bill of League of Ireland club? Sorry, old habits die hard. The question is: will I be back? The answer is probably yes. It would help to find someone who attends the match regularly so I can share the experience and not feel like I’m watching the game on my own (irony-seeking veterans of European Cup semi-finals don’t count). And a season ticket would be good, allowing you to extract maximum value from each game and imposing a repetition on your viewing habits that creates positive feedback for the next game. Anyone got €200 handy?

Waterford 1-16 (19) Galway 0-18 (18)

Does adrenalin speed your reaction times up to the point where time seems to slow down? I’m not sure if it is scientifically the case, but there is plenty of anectdotal evidence to suggest this and there was one such anecdote yesterday in Thurles. As Declan Prendergast – and I’m sure it was him, not Michael Walsh – emerged from his own half with the ball, soloing towards the Galway goal with all the grace of a gazelle with a lion on its back, who should I spy tearing up on his right hand shoulder but John Mullane. It was almost as if time telescoped as Mullane moved towards the event horizon of a black hole. Prendergast batted the ball towards him, Mullane caught in his stride and barely broke it as he sent the ball in a curving arc over the bar. And all hell broke lose among the Déisigh.

I’ve been following Waterford’s efforts closely for over a decade now – hurling started in 1998, doncha know – and plenty has happened in that time. We’ve had close games, a few big wins, a few big defeats, drew some, and lost games we should have won easy. But at no point have we won a game where we were behind the 8-ball for most of it. The only occasion that comes to mind where we snatched defeat from the jaws of victory was when Paul O’Brien scored a late goal against Tipperary in the 2004 Munster semi-final. And even then we had led for most of the game only to be overtaken in the last ten minutes. Against Galway yesterday we were probably behind for 60 of the 70 minutes, and were six points down midway through the second half of a low scoring, goalless encounter. To turn that around was the stuff of fairy tales.

The day had not gotten off to the most auspicious of starts. Taking the wrong roundabout coming off the Clonmel ring road sent us on the Fethard road. It had been a while since we had taken this particular cross-country jaunt beloved of those convinced they can trim thirty seconds off the journey. No problem with going through Fethard then. It was just that it got really wacky when we found ourselves in New Birmingham. Who knew there was a place in Tipperary called New Birmingham? We certainly hadn’t, which informed us in no uncertain terms that we’d come too far. Turning around brought us in conflict with a road race where the wretched of the earth were shambling along in the middle of the highway causing us to do swerves that would have impressed John Mullane. Next time we’ll make sure we stick to the main road.

We arrived in Thurles with flaming arrows poking out of our wagon and found the town eerily quiet. In retrospect, I was probably looking forward to some culchie craziness to make our English guests – my brother-in-law and Mrs d’s second cousin, although a much closer relation than that status usually implies  - come away thinking the Micks were all mad when in crowds. God forbid they might think it no different to a regular league match at Anfield or Goodison Park. Making our way into the ground you then started worrying that they’d be certain it was nothing like Anfield or Goodison Park as the decrepit nature of the venue blazed forth for them to see (although the Red part of me wonders whether the Toffee would have felt right at home, ho ho). As it happens the authorities made the sensible decision to close the Killinan End thus forcing everyone together and minimising the gaps that might have reduced the atmosphere. Allied to some relatively decent seats, certainly  by relaxed Ticketmaster criteria, I began to relax myself.

It wasn’t as if I had high expectations, and when the dust had settled my brother would confess that the main reason for going was what he saw as giving a send-off to this generation that have given us such a wild and wonderful time. With 15 minutes to go he would muse that this was going to be the last time Tony Browne would pull on a Waterford shirt. Then again, all things might well pass but that doesn’t mean it’s going to happen today as Dublin failed to bring a tremendous season for them to the next level and reach an All-Ireland semi-final. Quite apart from hoping Dublin would make such a breakthrough and having those hopes dashed, there was a slightly queasy feeling at what would be said when Justin McCarthy’s new team did better than the team who had shafted him last summer – not that I begrudge Justin his happiness, but I can do without the trolling on the subject.

So having got through usual pre-match pleasantries, i.e. Amhrán na bhFiann, which I’m relieved to report didn’t leave me embarrassed at such a brazen display of nationalism in front of the post-imperial visitors , I was trying harder than usual to keep cool. This wasn’t made any easier by the presence of as big a bunch of balubas as ever to grace a sporting event sitting directly in front of us. They weren’t obnoxious, they were simply clueless about the game of hurling in general and the etiquette of match-going in a non-segregated environment (which, as expected, freaked the English folk out no end) in particular. They would applaud the ref for giving a free to Galway when he had given it to Waterford. Every Waterford wide was greeted with cheering and leaping to the feet which is fine in the last five minutes but totally OTT in the first five. One yahoo even had a Dublin beanie hat on, doubtless an expression of true love from some Jackeen brassie he had met in the boozer a few hours before. In fairness to the lads none of their clownishness was directed at those around them, but it was a source of constant irritation throughout.

Not as big as Waterford’s first half performance though. After the initial period of fencing Galway got on top. Looking at the programme beforehand I was struck by the lack of marquee players up front. When you consider how the likes of Noel Lane, Brendan Lynskey, Martin Naughton, Anthony Cunningham, Eanna Ryan and some fella called Joe C spring to mind even twenty years on, Galway’s attack – with the exception of some fella called Joe C – didn’t strike fear into our hearts. They’ve never had a problem racking up big scores since those days, the problem has usually been lightweight back lines. And to see Waterford being horsed out of it by the Galway backs was a source of great concern. Only Stephen Molumphy seemed to be getting any change out of the ball, and Ollie Canning’s limpet imitation on John Mullane was working a treat from Galway’s perspective. Points were exchanged from frees before Galway got the first point from play, an excellent strike from Aongus Callanan after an under pressure Clinton Hennessy had sent the ball straight down his throat. It was just as well that Eoin Kelly had brought his free-taking hurley – and it should be noted what a relief it is that this aspect of Waterford’s game is no longer such a source of angst – because Galway were well on top, helped along by a point from a sideline from Joe Canning. But the double-edged nature of such a talent would be illustrated by a period midway through the half. 0-5 to 0-2 up, Galway embarked on a shocking series of efforts, two dreadful wides bookended by two sideline cuts that were brilliantly struck but drifted wide. Waterford reacted to these let-offs with a couple of frees, one of them a really soft one when John Mullane was hit by what looked to me a clean shoulder, and a great point from Kevin Moran to almost miraculously level matters.

There was no disguising Galway’s ascendancy though, however scrappy it might be. Galway began to edge clear, helped by a point from Joe Canning when he was pulled all over the shop by Declan Prendergast and resorted to kicking the ball over the bar from a long way out. The unusual nature of the point disguised just how easily he had made the space. Waterford would be grateful for a great save from Clinton Hennessy which illustrated to the newbies the value of the reaction of the crowd in gauging what had just happened – abrupt ooh = wide / 65; ripple of applause = point;  huge roar = goal. Anyone taking notes would appreciate this later on.

Canning knocked over the 65 and another ‘point’ from him soon after would cause consternation. Shooting from an acute angle the ball looked wide from where I was – admittedly as far away as it is possible to be and still be in the New Stand – but was signalled over after some hesitation from the umpires. What followed did no credit to either Waterford or the ref. Eoin Kelly in particular can consider himself fortunate to have escaped censure as he flew off the handle. The ball may well have been wide but the display of histrionics was unnecessary and could have seen him booked, or worse. The ref though displayed a surprising level of procrastination, heading in to have a consultation with his umpires when he was surely in no position to second-guess them then allowing the point. Either chalk off the score or get on with it. Eoin Kelly could probably claim on the sly that such pressure helps when the next 50-50 decision comes his way, and it looked right suspicious when Kelly went down in a heap right under the Old Stand on the 45m line. He scored from the subsequent free and we went in at half-time grateful to be only four points down and praying that the swirling wind was a factor.

Initially it looked like it might be the case with Mullane flashing a goal effort narrowly wide, Eoin Kelly scoring one of those ridiculously precocious over-the-shoulder efforts and Kevin Moran tacking on another fine point. But this was a false dawn as Galway struck back with three quick points, one of them the result of a free when Eoin Murphy simply chopped Damien Hayes down in a blatant professional foul. Joe Canning must have pondered having a go for goal to extract maximum punishment and Galway would come to regret such caginess.

The post half-time blowback had now evaporated and Galway moved six points clear. The Shanahan brothers came on – Maurice and Dan respectively, which demonstrates how the pecking order has changed – and Maurice made a nuisance of himself from the word go. Not enough of a nuisance to impact the scoreboard, although he could claim frustration when his good play put Mullane in the clear only for the effort from a narrow angle to go wide. Or did it? Instinct again told me it was over and we got another display of petulance from Waterford as it was waved wide, this time slapped down with righteous indignation by Diarmuid Kirwan. It looked like heads were beginning to drop as the good work by the backs wasn’t translating into scores at the other end.  It was around this point, as alluded to previously, that maudlin thoughts about the imminent departures from the white and blue began to play around in certain skulls. Waterford managed to trim the gap to three but Galway quickly moved back to the insurance score clear, and even the English second cousin could see that Waterford were going to need a goal, something that I suggested was not going to come.

At some point Dan Shanahan had moved in to full-forward. In a sport which consists of 14 mini-battles all over the field with the final result dependent on the collective tally of those battles a simple switch can have a spectacular impact. It’s doubtful whether Noel Hickey would be as discombobulated as Eugene McEntee was, but the brief period where Dan made a difference was explosive. First he gathered a high ball and drove the ball goalwards. Narrowly wide but 10/10 for the effort. Then it happened again, only this time he got the ball clear. I couldn’t see who it fell to or how it ended up in the net – after-the-event nod in the direction of Shane Walsh here for a fine finish –  but the reaction of the Waterford crowd on the Town End told us all we need to know. Suddenly it was a one point game. Galway had a chance which drifted hopelessly wide allowing Waterford to come back down the pitch, earn what looked like a soft free even at the time, thus allowing Kelly to level matters up right on the stroke of the 70 minutes. Extra time loomed but Prendergast and Mullane brought up that thrilling, scarcely believable denoument. There was time for Joe Canning to leap into a phone box and don the outside-the-suit underpants but his tricky effort slipped wide sparking wild celebrations – what was that about not celebrating opposition wides? – as the two minutes of injury fizzed into the bottom of the egg timer.

The final whistle blew and Thurles reverberated to disbelieving Waterford celebrations. During his bout where Waterford supposedly boozed away the chance of beating Dublin in the League, Bernard Dunne found himself well behind on the judges scorecards as it went into 11th round. He had to land a knockout blow and he did. This was similar. We hadn’t exactly been battered by Galway and while they were well ahead it could still be won with a knockout punch. It didn’t seem at all likely though as we went into those last rounds, which was what made it so special when they landed that late flurry of blows and Galway didn’t get up off the canvas. No one in Waterford will be under the illusion that Kilkenny will be quaking in their boots after this. But each individual Championship success has value when you are from Waterford, and the manner of this one will rank it up there with the very best.

Waterford:  Clinton Hennessy, Eoin Murphy, Declan Prendergast, Noel Connors, Tony Browne, Michael Walsh, Aidan Kearney, Kevin Moran (0-2; Dan Shanahan), Shane O’Sullivan, Jamie Nagle (Maurice Shanahan), Seamus Prendergast (0-1), Stephen Molumphy, John Mullane (0-1), E Kelly (0-12, 0-11 f), Shane Casey (Shane Walsh, 1-0)

Galway: Colm Callanan, Damien Joyce, Eugene McEntee, Ollie Canning, Fergal Moore, John Lee, Eoin Lynch, Ger Farragher (0-2), Kevin Hynes, Aongus Callanan (0-2), Cyril Donnellan (Kevin Hayes), Andy Smith (0-1), Damien Hayes (0-3), Joe Canning (0-9, 0-5 f, 0-1 65), Niall Healy (Joe Gantley, 0-1)

HT: Waterford 0-7 Galway 0-11

Referee: Diarmuid Kirwan (Cork)

Waterford 2-16 (22) Tipperary 4-14 (26)

The effect of any sporting result isn’t just measured in the final result itself. The tea-leaf reading that will attach itself to England’s draw with Australia yesterday in the first Ashes test demonstrates this. England can be justifiably euphoric at how they repelled a certain Australian victory with a pair of batting bunnies. On the other hand, once the sickening feeling subsides at not producing the one ball in sixty-nine attempts that was needed to remove either James Anderson or Monty Panesar – and it was really sickening for the convicts when you put it in those terms – Australia will know they are better than England, sufficiently so that they can look forward to the next four matches with a spring in their step.

So what can Waterford take from losing the Munster final to Tipperary? There’s self-evidently no pleasure in the result and, as I will allude to in the next thousand or so rambling words, it wasn’t that great a performance. Only two of the starting forwards scored from play and some of the flubs in the back division were painful to behold. There was pleasure in the way the players held their nerve in the second half when it looked like a dam was about to burst over their heads. It’s a step backwards over recent years when respectable defeats become an end in itself but sitting as I was beside my eldest brother, a veteran of the 1989 Munster final humiliation, it wasn’t difficult to extract some succour from that element of the performance.

And it was with my brother that the maximum amount of entertainment was wrung out of the day, to whit: what would Michael Duignan make of such a display if disrespect by X/Y/Z from Waterford? Hence when the minors ran around Thurles with the cup just as the torch to commemorate the 125th anniversary of the establishment of the Association arrived on the scene, we chortled at imagining Duignan’s outrage, how Michael Cusack would be spinning in his grave at such fist-pumping and playing to the gallery. The fact that Duignan would not have been at a microphone at that point was neither here nor there, it was the creativity in creating his fury that mattered.

Then again, had MD been in the booth he might well have been struck dumb by the performance of the Waterford minors. I carried little hope into the game of anything other than a fearsome beating from the always-formidable Tipperary. We arrived a few minutes after throw-in, none the worse for wear for daring to dress like it was the middle of July then getting caught in a thunderstorm, and were pleased to see that scores were level. We then watched with increasing incredulity as Waterford slowly edged away. There were no purple patches where they rattled over 2-5 to kill the game. Nor were Tipp so toothless that they could be said to have played badly. Twice they bore down on goal only to brilliantly denied by Stephen O’Keeffe. Speaking as we were about performance and result this was perfect, and great credit reflects on everyone involved (including Michael Walsh, no less a figure than the Waterford City Manager; what a splendid way of demonstrating the egalitarian nature of the GAA, to see a person who has flown so high taking on such a lowly position. Some fat cat.)

I’m not plugged in to the pulse of the Déise nation nor ever claim to be, so I don’t see it as a sign of being an inadequate Déisigh to not know how well the Minors are coming along.  So a story I overheard in work this time last year that I dismissed at the time as so much straw-clutching now makes sense. A former Waterford senior hurler was relaying to a fellow colleague the details of the minors implosion at the hands of Cork in Walsh Park. He thought there was real talent in the team, but the coach insisted on having a two-hour training session on the afternoon of the game. Duly Waterford kept pace with Cork until the final quarter when they fell apart. Watching the Minors yesterday filled me with hope for the future. I’ve banged the drum online for our future on the basis of the efforts of the likes of De La Salle in colleges hurling and the Tony Forristal team. All along though I was worried that I was engaging in wishful thinking, extrapolating on the basis of something that I hadn’t experienced for myself. Now, I have seen and I believe.

(This is probably more wishful thinking, but it was great to be so uplifted. Whatever happens in the future, I’ll settle for that.)

On to the main event then, fears that the minors may be a source of depression to the seniors well and truly extinguished. The ball was thrown in, it went straight up the field to John Mullane who opted to shoot from a narrow angle when he had plenty of time to create a better chance – and the ball flew straight over the bar. Clearly in the mood then. Points were exchanged with Brendan Cummins pulling off a fantastic save from Eoin Kelly before Waterford managed to score from a free to take away the sour taste of that save / miss. Mullane was then fouled close in and Kelly teed up the free. The two wise men right at the far end of the Old Stand agreed that he should just knock the ball over the bar, and had we had a preview of the daisy-cutter he sent towards goal we’d have been right. Except Brendan the Great let the ball squirm under his hurley and Waterford had leapt four points clear. Great stuff, but it wouldn’t be long before Tipp made it look like a buffer against the inevitable hammering. It might have been the wind but Waterford were soon struggling to cope, Clinton Hennessy having to pull off a fine save from his own, although Waterford failed to take full advantage of that let-off with Tipp scoring from the clearance – an event that would sadly define the day.

Tipperary edged closer then ahead, their dominance illuminated by a splendid catch-run-and-score point from Shane McGrath. Waterford were struggling to get any ball up to the forwards so it was just as well that Mullane had brought his Superman boots, roaring on to a breaking ball and flashing the ball to the net. Incredibly Waterford were ahead despite living off scraps and it was all down to Mullane. His cat-like agility is truly extraordinary. At one point in the second half he went down in a heap trying to catch a Waterford puckout. Surrounded by three Tipp players, you worried how he’d get the ball out of harm’s way. Yet in the time it took to think that thought he was on his feet and galloping in the direction of Cummins’ goal. He scored 1-5 on the day, and it would be an interesting exercise to see how many of Eoin Kelly’s 1-7 from frees were courtesy of fouls on Mullane – we know where the 1-0 came from.

So with the wind favouring Tipp things were ticking along nicely. Statler and Waldorf agreed that as long as we didn’t give away silly goals we had a great chance. The thing about silly goals though is that they are often the result of brilliant play (see: John Mullane) or overwhelming pressure, the chances of a clanger taking place moving towards 1 when the hammer is down. Tipp had been splendidly profligate up front to this point and but Waterford’s defence finally cracked after a well-worked move, Seamus Callanan smartly bouncing the ball into the net. Then Lar Corbett couldn’t gather the ball when he would have been clear through only for Waterford to fail miserably to clear it, allowing Tipp to barge their way back into the danger area and Eoin Kelly to get their second goal.

It was a poor error, but was it any worse than Cummins’ for Waterford’s first goal? Not really, it was just that it exposed how much Waterford had been short of quality possession while Tipp were getting enough chances without us offering them up as gifts. We were praying for half-time which didn’t come early enough to prevent a third Tipp goal, a rapid fire sweep from the deep which culminated in Corbett emphatically ramming the ball past Hennessy. When half-time did arrive the scoreboard was chilling – 3-10 was three points less than Kilkenny had managed in Croke Park last September. The fears of a battering like 1989, and all the attendant concerns about players losing their cool, were prominent in our minds.

Half-time saw a reminder of 1989 in the shape of Bobby Ryan, and all the Munster title wining captains of the last 25 years with one glaring exception – Seán Óg Ó hAilpín. The rights and wrongs of his absence are another day’s work, but credit to the PA who simply ignored his absence, thus avoiding any pompous speechifying about letting down seven generations of Cork Gaels / impassioned cries on behalf of the poor downtrodden GPA.

Waterford got the second half underway like the wind had indeed made a difference, getting two good early chances from Dan Shanahan and John Mullane, both going badly wide before Stephen Molumphy decided to show them how it was done by scoring from way out. Grounds for optimism? It certainly was. There’s always enough potential firepower up front to suggest we could cut loose. The issue was could we hold them to few enough scores given their undoubted firepower – and it should be noted had someone said they’d manage only 1-4, I’d have been spitting on my hands in anticipation og getting them on something shiny at day’s end. But there comes a point when you are so far behind that you feel you are only playing for pride, and that moment came with their fourth goal. It hurts to be whaling on Declan Prendergast, who has never shirked the responsibility of being full-back despite the world and her husband constantly intimating that he is only a place holder until something better comes along. Still, it was a disappointing gaff as under no pressure he left the ball completely behind him, allowing Corbett to score the goal from point blank range. All that effort yet two points worse off than at half-time. It was going to take a Herculean effort to prevent this from turning into a rout.

Thankfully this is exactly what we got from Michael Walsh. It was not as obvious in the first half as we had so few attacks that Brendan Cummins wasn’t dropping puckouts into his part of the field. It was blatant in the second half when his performance was breathtaking. He seemed to win every ball, and he definitely sent every ball that he won back with interest. Allied with Mullane they kept the Tipperary backs honest. It was gratifying to see that Tipp had to keep hurling, and there was a continuous sense of tension among their fans – this probably wasn’t based upon anything we saw on the pitch but memories of previous ambushes; still, nice to see. Some eople did leave early but I’ve seen that at Anfield when the scores are level. In real time, Waterford kept on hacking away, with Maurice Shanahan adding a bit more ball winning power to the forwards but not much in the way of cutting edge. He was a bit unlucky with his goal effort, Conor O’Mahony emerging with the ball despite knowing little about it, but it didn’t exactly fizz off his hurley. A late clutch of points maintained the illusion of drama though in truth it would have been a fall of Devon Loch proportions even when the gap had closed to four points. You felt we could have been there all day and would not have made up the difference.

Cork or Galway are the likely opponents in the next round. Neither would be as formidable as Tipperary so despite this defeat we can look forward to that game with confidence, whoever we play. But having ruminated recently on the desirability of Dublin winning Leinster and putting on us a collision course with Kilkenny should we win Munster, it’s a moot point now. Neither came to pass and Kilkenny stand between us and the All-Ireland final anyway. Nothing we didn’t know already, although it would have been good to let someone else have a pop at them before September. Someone like Tipp.

Waterford: Clinton Hennessy, Eoin Murphy, Declan Prendergast, Noel Connors, Tony Browne, Michael Walsh, Aidan Kearney, Shane O’Sullivan, Kevin Moran (Richie Foley, 0-1), Seamus Prendergast (Maurice Shanahan), Stephen Molumphy (capt, 0-2), Jamie Nagle (Eoin McGrath), John Mullane (1-5), Eoin Kelly (1-7, all frees), Jack Kennedy (Dan Shanahan, 0-1).

Tipperary: Brendan Cummins, Paddy Stapleton, Paul Curran (Brendan Maher), Conor O’Brien, Declan Fanning, Conor O’Mahony (capt, 0-1f), Paul Maher, James Woodlock (Benny Dunne, 0-1), Shane McGrath (0-1), Pat Kerwick (0-1; Hugh Maloney), Seamus Callanan (1-1), John O’Brien (0-1; Michael Webster), Noel McGrath (0-3, 0-1f), Eoin Kelly (1-3, 0-2 f; Willie Ryan), Lar Corbett (2-2)

HT: Tipperary 3-10 (19) Waterford 2-4 (10)

Referee: John Sexton (Cork)

Waterford 2-17 (23) Kilkenny 1-16 (19)

(I include this image first because I’m pretty darn chuffed with it. So there.)

In a geeky moment a number of years back when in a job with a lot of down time (God be with the good old days), I compiled a spreadsheet showing Liverpool’s results as a function of how they did against the same opposition the season before, or the equivalent in the case of promoted / relegated teams. So it was particularly crushing on Saturday when the Reds went down to Middlesbrough – a poor result last season was followed up by an even worse result this season and the Spreadsheet of Doom tells me that Liverpool are now a point worse off than at the same stage in 2007/8.

I mention all this because a) beating Kilkenny was just what the doctor ordered after that debacle on Teeside, and b) the never-ending question about the League performances, while not about to be answered here (it is, after all, never-ending) can be given a fresh spin by the notion that in the corresponding match in 2008 Kilkenny cruised to an 11 point win. And before entertaining any guff about Kilkenny not being bothered, remember that a) Kilkenny love to beat down on Waterford and b) Kilkenny players are always under pressure to perform what with the talent waiting in the wings and the thunderstorm awaiting them in the dressing room after the game. Kilkenny gave their best today – and lost. Let’s be happy.

Especially seeing as it looked like deja vu all over again when Kilkenny roared out of the blocks rattling over three points in the first two minutes, all of which could be attributed to careless play on the part of Waterford whether it be coughing the ball up to their opposite number or poor attempts at a clearance. It was an immense relief when the Cats actually managed a wide - that’s fully 50% of what they managed in September. Waterford even managed to get  few scores but there was a sense in those early exchanges that Kilkenny were far more potent, their points been smacked over the black spot rather than tap-over frees or slurping apologetically over the bar. This was until Eoin Kelly came on for the unfortunate Shane Walsh – perhaps punished for losing the ball after a mazy run in the Kilkenny 45 that was the exemplar of the jennet express – and scored a wonder point, twisting and turning on the uncovered side of the ground then rattling the ball between the posts from what must have been a good 70 metres out as the crow flies.

It was uplifting stuff, and perhaps Kelly might have struck some great heights had he not been the victim / perpetrator (delete as per bias) of some striking himself. Kelly got into a tussle with Tommy Walsh and before you could squeeze the shutter on the camera a dozen players were piling in. When the dust had settled Kelly, Walsh, Seamus Prendergast and Jackie Tyrrell had gone . . . well, until the latter pair had gone off I didn’t realise the import of the new yellow card rule. Is there any limit on how many yellows you can get? Could you run out of players? Despite the loss of Eoin Kelly and his swashbuckling scores, you felt at the time that Kilkenny were worse off. Stripping them of two of their Triple A defenders when they already had a few new faces back there meant they had to be worse off.

And as it happened, Waterford had another player determined to take on Kilkenny singlehanded. While Kilkenny continued to behave as if every point had to come with a go-faster stripe painted on it, Ken McGrath was calmly keeping Waterford in touch, slotting over long range frees with splendid monotony. His period in the backs had made me forget just what a sensational forward he is. It’s not just his scoring, it’s the manner in which he ties down opponents like a WWE wrestler being tied down by midgets. Early in the second half he chased a lost ball and flung himself full length to rattle in a shot that PJ Ryan did brilliantly to save – then knocked over the 65. wellboy has been banging the drum for ages about playing Michael Walsh at centre back so as to free Ken up for the forwards. On the basis of this performance, he is entitled to feel smug (although surely not this smug).

With Kilkenny – dare I say it – in danger of overelaborating and Ken keeping the scoreboard ticking over, Waterford  had incredibly ghosted in front when they then dared to score a goal, Stephen Molumphy benefitting from an impulsive charge off his line by Ryan to kick the ball to the net.

It beggared belief. Waterford were now five points ahead and you could imagine Brian Cody going puce on the sidelines. It was a figurative battle of Cannae, the smaller army retreating before the massed hordes then catching them in a double envelopment movement – guess who has been watching too much of the History Channel recently? A three point half time lead almost felt disappointing, which demonstrated the gap between the pre-match expectations and the half time reality.

After a ridiculously long talking-to from Davy Fitz, Waterford emerged and were . . . pretty flat, actually. Maybe it was the rain but after the hammer-and-tongs first half typified by the brawl, the early second half clashes were more handbags than Hannibal. Only a handful of points were exchanged in the third quarter with a lot of players struggling to keep their feet on the now slick surface. It would take an another – ahem – coming-together to stoke the fires of the match. I’ve dealt with this elsewhere so I’ll just add that something must have happened off camera to have caused the umpire to intervene. It doesn’t excuse Declan Prendergast’s behaviour, and his reward will surely be to miss out on a National League should Waterford win it – at best.

The tempo seemed to lift after this and Waterford struck what should have been the killer blow when the rangy substitute took the opportunity to make a name for himself. Of all the moments that would have caused the perfectionist Cody to detonate – and if it seems I’m labouring the point, it’s because it’s both wise and true -  the manner of Waterford’s second goal will surely be the worst. Maurice Shanahan showed good composure to steady himself for a shot but the shot itself was poor, more being lucky to hit the post while going wide than being unlucky in missing a point. But Molumphy was first to the ball (Vesuvius) then a second Kilkenny defender charged towards him leaving Dan all alone on the edge of the square (Krakatoa),who showed Fowler-in-his-pomp vision to make the space. Molumphy coolly picked him out and Shanahan Sr coolly slotted it home.

Matches cannot be subdivided into little pieces where if  you can just prevent a goal for thirty seconds then multiply that by 140 you need never concede a goal. So the idea that Waterford might save us all a lot of grief if they could just stop conceding goal straight after scoring them is fanciful. Stuff happens. Still, you can’t help but grind your teeth when watching Richie Power pounce on the loose ball and cut across the goal into an unstoppable position. Kilkenny were bound to close the gap now. But Waterford held their nerve, keeping Kilkenny scoreless for the last five minutes and even getting the insurance scores to make it much less traumatic than it might have been.

It was a deserved win. We’re always told how Kilkenny have battalions waiting in reserve who could beat any team in the country. On the basis of this there is one team they can’t beat. And while Shefflin, Fitzpatrick and their ilk are still to come back, Mullane, Kelly (only ten minutes today) and Browne will be present come the summer. And never forget that winning the NHL, which this result would contribute to – watch as Kilkenny take out all our other rivals! – is result worth acheiving in itself and sod the summer. In the day that Man United landed the League Cup, just ask Liverpool fans.

Waterford: Clinton Hennessy, Eoin Murphy, Declan Prendergast, Noel Connors, Richie Foley, Michael Walsh, James Murray, Shane O’Sullivan, Jamie Nagle (0-1), Gary Hurney, Ken McGrath (0-9, 0-6f, 0-2 65), Stephen Molumphy (1-0), Jack Kennedy, Seamus Prendergast (0-4, 0-3f; Pat Hurney; Maurice Shanahan), Shane Walsh (0-1; Eoin Kelly, 0-1; Dan Shanahan, 1-1)

Kilkenny: PJ Ryan, John Dalton, JJ Delaney, Jackie Tyrrell (Canice Hickey), Tommy Walsh (TJ Reid), Brian Hogan, James Ryall (0-1), John Tennyson (0-2), Michael Rice (0-1), Eddie Brennan (0-2, 0-1 65), Willie O’Dwyer, Eoin Larkin (0-1), Michael Grace (0-1), Richie Power (1-7, 0-4f), Aidan Fogarty (0-1; Richie Hogan)

HT: Waterford 1-11 (14) Kilkenny 0-11 (11)

Referee: Anthony Stapleton (Laois)

Waterford 1-12 (15) Tipperary 2-13 (19)

As alluded to previously, getting a handle on the first match of the National Hurling League campaign can be tricky. What happened in the game to make it memorable? It certainly wasn’t the weather. Matches have been played in far worse conditions in the past. The allure of playing the defending champions isn’t there – sure haven’t we been in that position in the not too distant past, and I doubt anyone was setting off fireworks for us. Goalkeepers scoring goals? Meh, it’s been done to death. No, what made this match ’special’ was the clownish performance of the two umpires at the City End of the ground. Assuming it was the same duo in both halves, the ref had to over rule them no fewer than four times. Whatever motivated them – and curiously enough, all four initial decisions were to Waterford’s detriment -  credit to Barry Kelly for facing them down and making them look like the fools they were. Aren’t umpires usually friends of the referee? It must have been a long trip back to Westmeath.

Other than that, it was a typical early League encounter between teams who will be rivals in the later stages of the season, teams eager to face up to each other while not giving too much away. Except I fear that Waterford have already given something away. Not that it’s a revelation, but the thinness of our squad has not been resolved if this teamsheet is anything to go by. It’s true that we were missing some real heavyweights, but none of the players called up to replace them have not been tried before. In other words, we’re ‘experimenting’ with players who we tried in the past and who didn’t make the grade then, and persisting with players who are not Flynn or Browne beaters. On this evidence, Mullane, McGrath et al can’t come back soon enough.

Still, the second half performance was encouraging enough to suggest that those missing players might drag this team up to where eagles fly. An early positive sign was the free taking of Seamus Prendergast. Presumably he does it for Ardmore, but I make no apologies for being surprised that a) he was the one doing it in the absence of Eoin Kelly, and b) that he did it so well. The first score of the day was a slightly tricky free  that was struck over by Prendergast with the minimum of fuss.

Not that there were many frees on the day as the heavy pitch reduced most confrontations to throw-ins. It might sound like an excuse given the scoreline, and it’s true that both teams were playing on the same pitch. But it’s equally true to say that many events on the day, particularly in the first half, were reduced to pure randomness. Getting to the ball first, which is normally a good thing, was a recipe for disaster here as momentum carried you headfirst into the mud. The first quarter was as turgid a period of hurling as I’ve ever seen, with only one good moment (a quality point on the turn by James Woodcock) and one ugly moment (Shane Walsh having to go off after a bone-juddering accidental collision) being visible in the gloom of bad moments.

It couldn’t last and it didn’t, with Tipp putting in a second quarter that would ultimately prove decisive. Using the platform of a dominant performance from Benny Dunne in the half back line, they began to get on top. Three times Clinton Hennessy had to come to Waterford’s rescue, the first a flying save that went out ofr a 65, the second a point blank save which looped up for a point and the third having to pick the ball out of the mud with most of Tipperary bearing down on him. Such odds-defying couldn’t last and it didn’t, Pat Kerwick finally putting the finishing touches to another slick Tipp move, or as slick as it could be given the conditions. Dan Shanahan finally produced some magic to score a fine point late on, but the only positive thought was that it had taken them less time to score from play today than it had in the All-Ireland final.

I feared for Waterford at half time. Only Hennessy, Michael Walsh and Eoin Murphy had excelled, although Noel Connors had shown some nice touches in the other corner. Up front we were utterly toothless, and the sight of the newly-hirsute Big Dan being two steps behind every clash was profoundly depressing. No better team than Tipp for beating up on a team when they are down, so Waterford had better get up quickly. And in fairness, they did. Playing with a modest breeze seemed to help, Michael Walsh’s dominance in the half back line beginning to translate into more clean possession for the forwards. Stephen Molumphy seemed to be getting on top of his man weighing in with two points from play and Seamus Prendergast was lifting spirits by knocking over two 65’s – I always knew he had it in him! We were only matching Tipp point for pint, but with the ref ensuring that the umpires were not going to rob Waterford it was looking much healthier by the time we got a penalty in the last ten minutes. Up trotted Clinton Hennessy, who curiously elected to strike the ball on his ostensibly weak side. Maybe he’s more accurate on his left side, although is there really any increased accuracy when you’re only twenty-odd metres from the target? Either  way, the ball found the back of the net and the stage was set for a grandstand finish.

As the ball came back up the field, my first thought was of the matter of seconds between Waterford’s goal in the All-Ireland semi-final and Tipp’s goal. Well it was deja vu all over again as Paul Kelly skipped through the Waterford defence and rattled in their second goal. It all happened so fast that TG4 missed the build up, only cutting back as Kelly moved to strike.  You had to laugh. We were in this game of all of, oooh, twenty seconds. There was little chance that in such a low scoring affair that Waterford would close the gap but they kept at it and we had a couple of pleasing  cameos from Maurice Shanahan, the latest great white hope of Waterford hurling.

In the end, the balance sheet was negative. The attack was supine, with Big Dan continuing to look a shadow of his 2007 self, no matter how much shadow he puts on his chin. There were some good performances in the backs, and they seemed to act as a unit to repel much of Tipp’s efforts. That didn’t stop them getting more than their fair share of golden chances which Clinton Hennessy had to perform miracles to prevent. Still, his performance was a plus point when you consider the grief we’ve had in the square over the years. And the manner in which they kept going in the face of a potential second half collapse was encouraging. Nothing will be decided by the first match of the season. We need to keep telling ourselves that. We really do . . .

Waterford: Clinton Hennessy (1-0, pen), Eoin Murphy, Declan Prendergast, Noel Connors, Richie Foley, Michael Walsh, James Murray, Shane O’Sullivan, Jamie Nagle (0-1; Thomas Connors), Jack Kennedy (0-1), Gary Hurney (Patrick Hurney, 0-1), Seamus Prendergast (0-5, 0-2f, 0-2 65), Shane Walsh (Shane Casey; Maurice Shanahan, 0-1), Dan Shanahan (0-1), Stephen Molumphy (capt, 0-2)

Tipperary: Brendan Cummins, Conor O’Brien, Declan Fanning, Paul Curran, Benny Dunne (0-1), Conor O’Mahony (0-1, 65), Diarmaid Fitzgerald, Shane Maher (Seamus Callanan), Tomas Stapleton (Shane McGrath), Pat Kerwick (1-1; John Devane, 0-2), Patrick Maher (0-1), James Woodlock (0-2), Paul Kelly (1-1), John O’Brien, Willie Ryan (0-4, 0-3f; Pa Bourke)

HT: Waterford 0-3 (3) Tipperary 1-6 (9)

Referee: Barry Kelly (Westmeath)