Tribal Tribulations

Do you know what? That Offaly game did us no harm at all. In fact, every season should be punctuated by something like it: a Championship Lite, or Championship-adjacent fixture that lets you enjoy a day out without the nervous anxiety, the creeping dread or the nagging fears that permeate most match days. No worlds were going to come crashing down that Sunday evening. It must be how the more even-keeled, well-adjusted supporters experience following their county; turning up to games unburdened by consequences or the irrational weight the rest of us attach to the whole affair. And so we set off for Thurles much as you might head for Inchydoney or Whitegate of a Sunday morning in late June. A family outing, the sun shining and not the slightest sense of trepidation about what lay ahead. There really is a lot to be said for it.

It says plenty about where hurling finds itself that nobody ever seriously entertained the possibility of an upset. That’s not intended as a slight on Offaly. If anything, it underlines the scale of the task facing every county outside the established elite. Offaly have done almost everything that could reasonably be asked of them. They’ve invested in underage, produced talented players and steadily improved year on year. Yet they remain a million miles from laying a glove on the teams at the very top. Indeed, Offaly were the last hurling county to win a maiden All-Ireland, almost half a century ago at this stage. You wouldn’t bet against a similar length of time passing before we witness such a breakthrough again. Back in 2000, a much-fancied Cork team paid the price for underestimating Offaly in an All Ireland semi-final, with many of the players staying up until the early hours playing cards the night before. They got what was coming to them that day. This time around, Cork could have broken into a game of 45 at half-time without the slightest fear of suffering the same fate.

So, if there is little to be gleaned from Offaly, it’s back to Limerick for clues as to what might unfold this weekend. In the rain-soaked post-mortem of the Munster decider, opinion split neatly in two – those lamenting Cork’s performance and their good fortune in escaping with only a one-point defeat and those arguing that, despite playing below their best, Cork still emerged with only a one-point defeat. For what it’s worth, this blog firmly fell into the latter camp. Seeking the necessary confirmation bias that there were more positives than negatives to be taken, it brought to mind a scene from The Thick of It where Malcolm Tucker explains the art of political spin. “My expert would totally oppose that…you see, the thing is, you’ve spoken to the wrong expert. You’ve got to ask the right expert.” Step forward the always insightful Jeffrey Lynskey of The Irish Times who concluded that “if the teams meet again later in the championship, few would be surprised. Cork need to trust their bench and get Darragh Fitzgibbon back. It could yet be the summer they have been waiting for.” We’ll take that, Jeff. The right expert.

Fitzgibbon is back now. And we certainly have a bench that possesses game-changing capabilities. So far this year, Ben O’Connor has resisted the temptation to make sweeping alterations to the team that Pat built. Cosmetic tweaks rather than any major structural renovations. But maybe Saturday will demand something more ambitious, the first meaningful redesign, fresh plans tailored towards a more cluttered landscape. The inclusion of Alan Walsh hints at such. More than in most seasons, we have a fair idea of what to expect. Cork got an early taste of it in Salthill back in February, and the manner of that victory was one of the more impressive aspects of the league campaign. Galway retreated behind the ball, congested the areas from which Cork usually make hay and dared them to find another way. There is little reason to think Galway will deviate from that blueprint on Saturday, so nobody can claim that we haven’t been forewarned.

If it really is better the devil you know, then Cork will approach Galway with a wariness that should extinguish any hint of complacency. The lopsided nature of this year’s championship has cast the Leinster campaign in a curious light, coloured by inconsistency and intrigue. Which brings us to the obvious question: are Galway actually any good? You could tie yourself in knots and extrapolations trying to answer it. They lost to Dublin in Salthill, who in turn drew with Offaly. But Galway also comfortably beat Dublin in Croke Park a few weeks later. But then again, Clare also comfortably beat Dublin. And Cork comfortably beat Clare so… around and around you go. Hurling has never been quite that linear though, as we know better than most. What we can say for certain is that Cork and Limerick have separated themselves from the chasing pack this year, and nothing Galway have produced so far suggests they deserve to occupy such lofty heights. The dangerous qualifier here, of course, being so far. Few counties have made a habit of rendering previous evidence so meaningless as Galway.

Which is why the historical record, be that over one season or twenty, only carries you so far. Sure, Cork haven’t beaten Galway in the championship since 2008, a damning statistic really, one which jars with the relatively little attention our Western brethren tend to command down here. For whatever reason, Galway have always been an afterthought, occupying only peripheral headspace when surveying the challenges that lay ahead at the outset of each championship. Maybe it goes both ways. In his autobiography, Joe Canning rather disparagingly outlined the fragility of the Cork teams he encountered for much of his career; “nice hurlers and all that… they were never overly physical.” He was quite right too. For the most part, the Cork sides of that era were exactly as he described. We knew it, he knew it, everyone else knew it. Lads, it’s Cork. But I don’t think that assertion carries much weight anymore. Would anyone dare categorise the Downeys as ‘nice hurlers’? Would you accuse Tim O’Mahony or Tommy O’Connell of never being ‘overly physical’? Thankfully, that history is, well, in the past.

New history can be written this weekend. Barring replays, no two teams have ever met three times in the same championship. Go back a couple of years and all the talk was of a Limerick-Clare trilogy that ultimately never materialised. Semi-finals are rarely that accommodating. So while the sun may still be shining, tomorrow’s journey carries a very different complexion to that carefree trip a few weeks ago. We’re not in Thurles anymore, Toto. We’re heading for HQ, where seasons are defined, dreams are realised and others are brought to a shattering halt. Welcome back the nervous anxiety, the creeping dread and the nagging fear that it all might disappear in an instant.

And there’s a lot to be said for that too.

Up the Rebels