There are times when the cliché is correct.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

ON paper at least it was a familiar proposition.

If David Walsh’s long struggle tells you anything it’s to take a step back and not to drink the Kool-Aid; and question the hysteria at every turn.

The steep slopes by Carriganore, on the way into Waterford city, are an odd place to recognise the end of your sporting career.

Has there ever been a turnover of playing personnel like it?

Ah, the joys of Christmas.

There was a time within living memory when the Railway Cup was a big deal.

The existential hero of the football field or just cranks in fancy gloves?

Diarmaid Ferriter’s new book on Ireland in the Seventies highlights the sporting influence on the nation’s culture, writes Michael Moynihan