Duhallow dreamers break down one of Cork hurling’s last borders

Often, in the aftermath of seismic victories, players and managers can be accused of finding meaning in the realm of the cliché. They can sing the song of having been written off by everyone, play the tune of not being given a chance by anyone, or even ask Joe Brolly what he thinks about it all.

This is only human. There is, after all, something desperately unfair and impossible about asking somebody to articulate how they feel about an event that is emotionally indecipherable moments after it has concluded.

Occasionally, however, there is sense to be found in the madness of euphoria. And, as the lights went out in Páirc Uí Rinn on Saturday night, Aidan Walsh found that sense. He said that “growing up, we were always seen as the mullockers of Cork hurling in Duhallow”. This wasn’t a perceived jibe borne from a sense of injustice. This was a fact. Duhallow has always been the forgotten daughter of Cork hurling. It has always been the place that was given plenty of token attention before being politely ignored as everybody focused on the places of perceived importance.