Hurling at its imperious best is spellbinding

What can I say. What can anyone say. What a privilege to be present. Tactics yesterday? What tactics?

On Saturday, I expressed my disappointment at the path hurling was going down, with every analyst, on television particularly, determined to define each hurler by the number of plays they made, all this nonsense about tactics and hurling-by-numbers.

Eamon O’Shea and Brian Cody must have heard my cries for tactics were thrown out the window yesterday. This was hurling, pure and simple. This was hurling as it should be played. This was living.