Anthony Daly: After a summer of madness, the fire finally went out
Ger Loughnane had loads of piseogs. One of them was to tog out beside me. When I returned to my place in the dressing room after the replayed 1998 Munster final, Loughnane hugged me. I could feel the madness coming off him like kinetic energy.
On the Monday, we were having a few pints in Navin’s in Clarecastle when one of the lads asked me what Loughnane said to me. “Nothing,” I said.
