It’s raining Samuel Beckett and misting Brian Clough

The All-Ireland hurling race takes on a different tone when the previous season’s finalists come back to the circuit.

Last weekend dropped that flag. The response was a bawl of fatalism. Public mood, as the week wore on, reminded me of that moment in a Samuel Beckett play when a character identifies hope, not despair, as the real killer.

Byways of Laois, highways of Wexford, they can relate to this grimace. A retrospective of Beckett’s work could be staged in O’Moore Park, Portlaoise or Wexford Park. Performances would be thronged. The hurling community in both counties well knows that yen for ordinary despair.