Hurling surely must have been invented for Pale King Henry

If the late David Foster Wallace had been interested in hurling, instead of being some class of tennis fan who preferred to write about Roger Federer, he might have found his ideal subject yesterday in Croke Park.

Henry Shefflin. Wallace might have been thinking of the Kilkenny man when he was rummaging for titles for his last novel: The Pale King.

There have been great hurlers before and, as Ring used to say, there are better yet to come, but few have seized the imagination like Shefflin.

Our source for the quotation is deliberate. Back in 1966, when Cork were hunting a first All-Ireland in 12 years, there were debates on Leeside on whether the Cloyne man should be included in Cork’s All-Ireland selection and given a chance at a ninth All-Ireland medal, with voices raised for and against.

However, there was also a strong argument Ring didn’t need that extra space filled in the trophy cabinet to underline his greatness. The same for Henry, whose preeminence is well established, even if the ninth medal remains at issue.

Yesterday was another day of striking terror into his opponents whenever he went near the ball. Business as usual. James Skehill, the Galway keeper, freely admitted afterwards that he was always happy when Shefflin put the ball over the bar from placed balls near goal. He was referring to the late penalty Kilkenny had won; he might have been speaking for goalkeepers all over Ireland for the last decade.

Skehill had an earlier reference point as well, of course. On 15 minutes, for instance, Kilkenny were flailing around for a way into the game. They had banked the grand total of one point and were busily shredding their reputation for running up savage totals early in All-Ireland finals.

Shefflin got a 21-metre free at that stage and stood over the ball, exuding briskness. You’d have forgiven the umpire for bending for the white flag in anticipation, but his head would have popped like a grapefruit if he had. Shefflin snapped a shot goalward which Fergal Moore, as alert as a man lining the goal should be, turned around the post.

The Kilkenny man disregarded the etiquette widely accepted by all for close-in frees, whereby the forward taking the free signals his intention of going for goal with a lengthy run-up, and indicates his willingness to take a point by standing over the ball. Late in the second half, Shefflin stood over a penalty at the other end of the field with the game level. You couldn’t help but think of 2009, when he faced the same dilemma in the All-Ireland final against Tipperary, and stitched the ball into the rigging to set his team conclusively on the road to victory.

Yesterday Shefflin tore up the code of conduct for a second time, taking a lengthy run-up before lifting the ball well over the bar — deliberately.

It was significant, perhaps, that after the game, his manager dismissed any notion he might have sent in instructions to Shefflin. “That’s Henry Shefflin,” said Brian Cody, with the tone of voice that jazz fans probably used to talk about Miles Davis.

You might have leafed to this page expecting a compare-and-contrast with Joe Canning, who had a prodigious day himself: the Galway man ended with 1-9, including that late equaliser, a neat counterpoint to Shefflin’s dozen points. We decided to focus on the pale king, though, rather than anoint his successor. Joe has plenty of days in his future, and it’s in the nature of the beast that sportswriters, overweight and elderly for the most part, would tend to identify with a man who’s pushing into his 30s (we almost said ‘late’ 30s, though even the early 30s are late enough for a sportsman).

More than that, though, was Shefflin’s application even when he wasn’t striking those dozen points.

Clearly mindful that it was Skehill’s first outing in Croke Park in September, Shefflin hopped in front of him for early puck-outs, waving his hurley in the goalie’s eyeline (and surely planting the thought in Skehill’s mind: “!That’s Henry Shefflin! Waving his hurley in my eyeline!”) Four minutes into the second half, with Kilkenny still in arrears, Shefflin ran the ball out on the Hogan Stand side for a Galway sideline. He chased the ball down under the advertising hoarding and hurried back with it to keep the game flowing.

When Willie Mays, the great baseball player, was in his pomp back in the 50s, an opponent moved from frustration to acknowledgement: “They invented this game for Willie a hundred years ago.”

You know the name to drop in there.

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