Everyone in Croke Park knew from early on that Cork were set to defy history

For the guts of an hour, 38 players, 10 odd officials, 82,000 live spectators and a million more elsewhere, knew, in the moment, they were part of something special.

RED ROAR: Cork’s Niall O'Leary celebrates at the final whistle. Pic: Ryan Byrne, Inpho

Code red. It is finally happening. This isn’t a drill. There really are cracks in the empire’s edifice. This semi-final is still in its infancy, but already everyone can feel the earth shifting beneath their feet.

Brian Hayes has beaten Nickie Quaid. Aaron Gillane is penalised for a throw and a distress flare ignites on the Hill. Bright red. Smoke billowing all over the big house. A determined steward swimming through a sea of bodies in a desperate effort at confiscation. Heebie-jeebies in the air. Meanwhile John Kiely is in deep conversation with his analysts at the front of the Hogan Stand, anxiously studying an iPad. The single sound they wanted to quench is bellowing around Croke Park: Rebels. Rebels. Rebels.

This is everything Pat Ryan could have hoped for. His outfit believe. The scars of 2021 have faded entirely. They’ve turned up. Holy Moly. Now they’ve another goal and Limerick’s full-back line looks strikingly vulnerable. The foundation is exposed. No. Not quite. Not yet. The chance was there but it slips just by. Hayes buries another only for Alan Connolly to be penalised for a throw in the buildup.

Chinese philosopher Zhu Xi implored anyone who would listen that you shouldn’t wait until you're thirsty to dig a well. Here was Cork’s chance to build an almighty reservoir in preparation for the inevitable Limerick-enforced dry spell that was to come.

Their provision was insufficient. In fact, the drought was self-inflicted. The raw numbers suggest a stretch of awesome Limerick dominance. They outscored their Munster rivals 0-10 to 0-3 in the second quarter. 15 team possessions, 13 shots, 10 points. Typical. Panic averted.

Yet when Cork review that spell, they will see how they offered the reigning champions a chink. And by the same token, just eradicating those galling errors would be enough to bring them into contention once more. A poor Declan Dalton turnover gifted Tom Morrissey a point. From the resulting puckout Diarmuid Byrnes picked it off and rifled the sliotar back. Patrick Horgan missed a routine free. Patrick Collins drove a restart straight to Aaron Gillane. Hayes flicked over with goal on again.

CRUCIAL INTERVENTION: Cork’s Brian Hayes scores the first goal. Pic: Ryan Byrne, Inpho

That period until half-time becomes a blur. At least for Cork it does. They’re at risk of being washed away. The pattern is long-established. Give it all; then Limerick give more. To bring the challenge is one thing. To sustain it is the ultimate. That is Limerick’s edge. Was.

Cork can’t dwell on that decline. In a game with 58 scores and an astonishing 99 shots, there isn’t a singular moment that swung the contest. It is about how each moment relates to the other. The moment on top of the moment. This triumph was never going to be a one-way upward trajectory. Boom. Bust. Boom again. No other way would suffice. Be brave. Brave enough to rise up. Brave enough to fall. Braver still to rise again.

High in the Hogan Stand sits a member of the Cork backroom team. On several occasions, there is a graphic loaded on their screen. A chance to celebrate Patrick Horgan’s 700th point. All that is required is one simple score. One sweet strike, a white flag, send. Scoring history.

History happens in its own time. It can’t be scripted or anticipated. A post or a wide from play or another from a free can suddenly make it look implausible. Maybe it’s not the time. You don’t know for sure if the time will ever come. It’s probable. Highly likely. Far from a certainty. There will always be a gnawing sense that today isn’t the day.

Until Patrick Horgan announces now. Darragh Fitzgibbon brings them within one at the start of the second half and Horgan makes the call. Now we push. With a lovely bit of stick work from Alan Connolly and a first-time snapshot by the number 13, it is all level.

Soon it is Limerick’s turn to go to the well. Now they’re parched. An off-balance Cathal O’Neill has a go and sends the sliotar wide. Patrick Collins picks out Dalton under the Hogan Stand and he immediately lands a boomer. O’Neill fires another wide. Gearóid Hegarty forces a superb save from Collins. Gillane finds only air with his attempted rebound. That passage ends in another Dalton bomb. A momentous swing.

These are the instants that make sport special. The significance of every single play is obvious. Don’t overlook a single one of them. On a day when the five-in-a-row bid failed, it shouldn’t be forgotten precisely how Limerick lost. They lost with everything. They rallied like true champions. They were seven down midway through the second half. They were six down with 10 minutes left. Two were two down with two minutes left and manufactured two shots at the posts. Shane O’Brien and Aidan O’Connor both just missed.

Mere margins between making and denying history. A phenomenal semi-final because it was as visceral at the beginning as it was at the end. From early in the day everyone sensed it. The main combatants fed off it. Seamus Harnedy is spent by the time his number materialises on the board. Robbie O’Flynn is primed to fill the void.

Harnedy has one more contribution to make. He looks high into the Hogan Stand and asks for more. He waves manically, halfway between a prayer and a plea. It will take everything, everyone, for them to cross the line.

For the guts of an hour, 38 players, 10 odd officials, 82,000 odd spectators in the stadium and a million more elsewhere, knew, in the moment, they were part of something special.