We won’t pretend that Hospital Pass enjoys legendary status in the GAA just yet but today’s edition resembles yesterday’s All-Ireland hurling final in one way: it’s all Kilkenny.
We were smitten all over again by Kilkenny yesterday. After the game – in which they dominated so much, in almost every area, that Tipp can take great heart from the fact they were just four points in arrears at the final whistle – we were chastising ourselves about our failure to place some cowdung-stained fivers and a docket marked ‘Kilkenny to win – 6/4’ on the counter of the local bookies on Saturday afternoon.
How did we ever doubt them? How did anyone?
This is definitely the greatest side ever to play a game of hurling. It is probably the greatest side the GAA has ever seen. They had none of the injury problems which beset them last year, with captain Brian Hogan and spiritual leader Henry Shefflin coming into the game with fitness and form on their side. They had three brilliant new additions to the side which started last year’s final in Paul Murphy, Colin Fennelly and Richie Hogan.
And they had a wrong to set right.
On reflection, it wasn’t feasible to see this team lose two All-Irelands in a row, not when they had half a dozen of the best players in history on their side and the conviction that their entire legacy would be sullied by defeat in this one game, on this one day.
Kilkenny were dead certs. With crystal-clear hindsight, it’s obvious.
The legend of Tommy
It’s a moment that will go down in legend. You can imagine the stories told to kids in 22nd century Callan and Castlecomer. Stories about the time the little big man, maybe the greatest of all time, skelped the referee in an All-Ireland final.
– And what happened, Granda? Was Tommy Walsh sent off? Was he banned for a year? For life? Was he sent to jail?
– Ah no, kids. He played on. The blood gushed from the snozz of referee Brian Gavin but a few human paramedics – they had people treated people in those days, I’m told – managed to staunch the flow. He got 68 stitches and they had to pull a splinter the size of a breadknife out of his nostril.
But he didn’t even have a word with Tommy. In fact, he laughed about it afterwards, about getting a stray flake of a hurl from the great Tommy. It was like a badge of honour, kids. Or that’s what my grandfather told me, anyway.
But that was Tommy. He hit everything that moved – opponent, teammate or referee – he caught every puck-out in nearly every game he ever played and he won an All-Star 19 years in a row.
