Oh moment, please linger a while

HE didn’t notice himself breaking into a fast, ungainly walk towards Daniel Goulding. Along the sideline with the Hogan Stand suppressing, suffocating. Simple message. Kick it dead and this will be all over. He thought the message was simple. No ambivalence. Kick the ball dead.

And then Cork’s forward with a radar left foot locked on target and floated it across the square, back into the maelstrom Conor Counihan thought he had just escaped.

Not dead.