Mick the maestro
TO THE thousands upon thousands who make the annual pilgrimage to coursing’s All-Ireland finals in Clonmel every February, he’s a folk-hero, a legend, the king from Castleisland.
Most of those who go to that immense season-ending three-day National Meet are themselves doggie people; they know exactly how difficult it is to even qualify for Clonmel, will have spent day after cold, wet and wintry day walking their own dog, week after week with growing hope, month after month of rising expectation. They’ll have come close at one Trial Stake, will head for another, another, ’till eventually, for most of them, all that hope, all that expectation, is dashed.



