Fact and Fiction

I remember being told in school to never, ever write a fictional account of ‘the match’. If you felt the need to write about hurling, write about the trials and tribulations that surround it, the stuff that happens in between the lines, the bits that spill out over the lines. And even at that, be wary of it. Because the drama of sport is impossible to recreate. The tragedy of sport is impossible to anticipate. The glory of sport is impossible to describe.  

I have continued to impart that advice while having the pleasure of teaching in Coláiste an Phiarsaigh for what is fast becoming longer than I’d care to remember. When seen on paper, the last-minute goals, the impossible comebacks, the against the odds wins, the heroic acts of individualism just seem ridiculous, impossible to believe, despite the fact that we’ve seen them all before.

As ever though, this year’s outstanding crop of leaving cert students laughed last and loudest when they were asked to write a motivational speech to be given at half time at a major sporting event, proving, once again, that I know nothing about anything.

The fact remains, however, that the pure pageantry of what we watch take place in places like Thurles, Páirc Uí Chaoimh and Croke Park just cannot be anticipated. That doesn’t mean that we cannot dream though. I’m sure that there was many the Tipp fan who dreamt of them scoring a late goal to secure a famous 14-man victory over Kilkenny two weeks ago.

However, if somebody had handed the script of Oisín O’Donoghue’s goal to a Hollywood director, chances are, they would have declined. Paddy Deegan’s faux pas, Mikey Carey’s fumbling, the fact that O’Donoghue managed to unleash an unstoppable piledriver past a modern great of a goalkeeper with half of the Kilkenny defence hanging out of him all just seemed to bend the realm of probability that bit too much. And yet it happened, and we were enthralled by it. Well, all of us bar Kilkenny.

Hurling is like that. If Isaac Newton’s Third Law of Motion tells us that every action creates an equal and opposite reaction, then the incredible highs that hurling give us are balanced out by dark and dismal lows.

Pat Ryan’s team have given us so, so much over these past three seasons. As often stated here, his greatest achievement is instilling a consistency in performance that Cork had lacked for so long. From there, he has endeavoured to fulfil the vast potential that exists here on Leeside. I don’t need to list the highs and lows of the past three years, because we can still feel them deep within us, still see them when we close our eyes, and as a result, he has enabled us to dream of things that are possisble as opposoed to fantastical.

There’s been more than a hint of romance about it all, but after twenty years of searching, we’re all too long in the tooth not to realise that hurling is not romantic, that, more often than not, it’s cruel. It will reel you in and spit you out without thought or sentiment. Sport will taunt us, shamelessly, dangling what we want right in front of our eyes before snatching it away in a way that makes you feel silly, used and despondent. We should know that we’re always at our most vulnerable when we feel like we’re at our most indomitable. And yet, time after time we’ll get sucked into the madness.

When Cork beat Clare in the Munster Final of 2017, I was guilty of thinking that Cork was back. It was so easy to get caught up in the wave of emotion that surrounded the nature of that campaign, from Mikey Cahalane’s goal v Tipp in the first round to Damien Cahalane’s tour-de-force in the final. Croke Park taught us that we weren’t there, yet, while 2018 gave us a hangover we struggled desperately to emerge from.

When 2021 came around, and an underachieving Cork team got on a run that saw them beat a fancied Kilkenny side after extra time in an All-Ireland semi-final, the romantic in me chose to ignore all of the evidence and put my faith in blind hope. That was a poor choice. Hope must be tempered by evidence.

Cork goes into Sunday with much of the evidence stacked in their favour. They are League Champions, Munster Champions and were inches off being good enough twelve months ago. Back in Limerick in May, they were reminded of the gap that exists between a clap on the back and a kick in the ass. They have a strong panel that has everyone available for the first time this year. They have recognised the insincerity that surrounds the coverage around them. Nobody stood up for Shane Barrett after Ennis in the way that subsequent red cards were sanitized in the public realm. They know, no, they have learned that there is no sympathy for the devil. So be it.

They will play against their oldest foes. They will come up against a Tipperary side they have beaten twice already this year and lost to once. They will meet a Tipperary team on the crest of the wave who have that vital mix of youth and All-Ireland winning experience. They will face a manager who has broken many of their hearts on numerous occasions. They play against a team that score goals. They walk into this All-Ireland with their eyes wide open.

The longer you go without winning the Big One, the harder it becomes. Twenty years is as long as it’s ever been in Cork. Expect everything, expect anything and let’s see if this is the one we’ve been waiting for.

Corcaigh abú, go deo.

John Coleman