Glad to be back: I was in northern Spain for a few days last week — the Basque Country specifically, and San Sebastian to be precise.

Not to overanalyse the All-Ireland final last Sunday week or anything . . . but . . . can we just talk about the very end of the game, when Joe Canning was doing his best to imitate the Grinch and steal Christmas from all of Limerick?

The colour starts south of the border.

Fresh from the Department of No Further Ado, the end of season hurling awards. Often copied but never equalled, the jury (Michael Moynihan, alone) has reported in.

I thought it was all over for trains and GAA supporters, and I thought I had the exact moment the romance had ended: when Cork decided to go by bus to Dublin.

A championship like no other. A champion team like no other.

Michael Moynihan has a few things to say...

Because this seems to be a week (or two) of Peak Hurling, I thought it might be the ideal time to use the game in order to reenact a great old George Plimpton piece.

Lessons learned from a (long) week in sports.