Far from a classic but Wexford won’t mind

“I SUPPOSE ye’re here to compare this one with last week.”

It was more a statement than a question, the speaker assuming that with the Leinster final following just one week after what is being touted as one of the greatest Munster finals, comparison was inevitable. Forget it. It’s fish and fowl, fruit and veg, and this year at least, chalk and indelible marker. No prizes for guessing which one will be soonest erased from the memory banks.

Forget for a moment the actual quality of the game; there are so many reasons (traditions, rivalries, more competition, to name a few) why the hurling championships of Munster and Leinster can’t be compared. Biggest reason of all, however, is the venue. 46,820 in Croke Park yesterday, just a few thousand less than what we had in Thurles last Sunday, but long before a ball was struck in battle, any comparison was worthless.

In the Munster final, every seat was taken, an occasion that had been simmering for hours coming perfectly to boiling point. Croke Park? Finest stadium in the land, fine as any anywhere. For games like this, however, it is simply too big, and loud though they roared, those 46,820 fans never came near the decibel-level of Thurles, never came close to matching the crackling atmosphere of Páirc Uí Chaoimh, of the Gaelic Grounds, of Killarney, of any county ground in the country. Lost it was, in those cavernous stands, just as the build-up is lost in this vast cosmopolitan city.

Then there’s the pitch. Again, pristine, again, as fine a surface as is to be found in any stadium anywhere else outside this island. But not as fine as Thurles, and especially when there’s been rain, most certainly not as fine for hurling. Yesterday, there was rain, there was poor hurling, and it was not a coincidence. In a game that never rose above the mediocre, a lot of very good players were made to look very average. One of those who was not, one of the few, was Wexford full-back Darragh Ryan, but he saw the problems all around him.

“It is hard to control the ball in those conditions, the ball seems to skid away from you, a lot of fellas seemed to be chasing it, struggling to get control,” he agreed.

That’s that then, a forgettable game, forgettable hurling, eminently forgettable Leinster final. But, there was one memorable performance, one who rose above the dross, defied the conditions, and defied Offaly. Four times in a first half in which Offaly threatened to derail the Wexford express, regular as clockwork, goalkeeper Damien Fitzhenry denied them what looked certain goals.

Sixth minute, point-blank shot from Brian Carroll deflected out for a 65; 14th minute, save from a difficult Brendan Murphy booted effort; 21st minute, super save off Michael Cordial, rebound then safely secured and cleared; 31st minute, blocked a penalty by Damien Murray, and again, cleared to safety, confining Offaly to a one-point half-time lead. It was breathtaking, brilliant, heroic as the Pass of Thermopylae; afterwards however, the man himself was all banal.

“Heavy balls coming in there at stages alright, but you’re never too bad when they don’t pass you by. Every man is out there to do a job, and mine is to go into goal and try and stop as many shots as I can. There’s no great secret to it, just get in there and do your best. There are days when you stop those, but there are days when they go flying past you as well. This was one of the days when things went well for me.”

That’s it? Another one of those days? It was in me arse. It was special, rescued the game for a start, won a Leinster title they surely deserved after dethroning Kilkenny three weeks ago, rescued the occasion. Surely this had to rank up there with any of the great days you’ve had?

He relents. “Probably as good a day as I’ve had in Croke Park. Lucky enough it was in a Leinster final.”

A word on Brian Whelahan. Named at wing-back, played in the centre, he was another defying the conditions till a hamstring injury saw him limp to the sideline in the 45th minute, a mortal blow to Offaly but hopefully, we’ll see him again.