It’s the hope that kills. Yes, it was Tipperary who beat us, took home our own Liam McCarthy Cup and plunged the whole county of Cork into despair again, but we’ll survive that. However, it’s the hope that kills. This time we really did hope. League champions, crushing the same opposition in the final; Munster champions in a game for the ages against the mighty Limerick team; seven goals in the semi-final against Dublin. We had every reason to hope. Last year’s shattering defeat by Clare had steeled the team, matured them, forged them into a real force to be reckoned with.
Tipp were well behind us in building a new team. The future may be theirs, but the present would be ours, surely. Hope, certainly, but little niggling doubts at the back of our minds. Liam Cahill loves beating Cork: he plans for it, glories in it, and we remembered how he turned two U21 teams into Cork-killing units. Could he now do it at senior level, was the vital question? Many of Cork’s stars have bitter memories of those two U21 defeats and we worried it might have affected them psychologically. On top of that, this is a good Tipperary hurling team, top-class skills, lovely first touch, excellent at building play from defence, and now Cahill had added steel to the ingredients as evident by their progress since last season and their great semi-final win over Kilkenny. If any county was going to deprive us of this badly needed title, it was Tipperary.
Being favourites in any sport is never an easy position to occupy. Everybody is waiting for the fall, the surprise, the trip-up. Cork showed what underdogs can do against Limerick in the Munster final. Was this the day it would rebound on them? We tried our best to ignore the niggling doubts, and to remain positive. It was Cork’s turn, not Tipp’s. Somebody said that only Cork would class twenty years without a title as a drought, others would only call it a mere thirst. Maybe so, but Cork hurling has thrived in All-Ireland titles. The Liam McCarthy Cup belongs to the county. Even if Kilkenny have 36 titles to our 30, that will eventually be rectified by the Rebels when they get the winning feeling again. This was the team, the manager to get us back on track. We just couldn’t lose this one.
Pat Ryan had asked for controlled hype this time, compared to the rampant expectancy in 2024. He got it, with the supporters keeping it well in check while still flying the flags, scrambling for tickets, and painting the county red and white. They were giving off a sense of confidence rather than expectation, firmly believing this was the year the Cork drought would end.
Like us, people were wary of Tipperary but all expected Cork to win, couldn’t see them losing two in-a-row. Well, my friend, it all went horribly, oh so horribly wrong, again.
As we said last week, there is no more lonesome place than Croke Park when the final whistle blows and you are behind on the scoreboard. Beaten again, that sick, sinking feeling. Not just beaten but absolutely annihilated in the second half. The hopes, the dreams, the longing, all in smithereens. Trying to put a brave face on it. Last year there were excuses: the referee, the tug on Robbie O’Flynn’s jersey, but this time, there were no excuses.
To say Cork supporters were shattered would be an understatement. Nightmares do exist, especially in Croke Park. You want to turn back the clock, to replay it again but you can’t. The dream has died in front of your eyes and the despair is deep and hurting. What is it like for the players and management team? I would hate to know. It would be easy to be critical of those same players and management, but their dreams died, too, on the green sod of Croke Park. They need our support now, not our criticism. To lose one is bad, to lose two in a row doesn’t bear thinking. To lose in the manner it was lost was absolutely devastating.
Will we ever see the legendary Patrick Horgan in a red jersey again? Or Séamus Harnedy, Conor Lehane? It’s hard right now to remember the glorious moments they have given us down the years and even if they didn’t deliver the Liam McCarthy, their legacy will live on in all the young lads who swing a hurley in Cork.
Who knows, maybe there’s another Horgan, Lehane or Harnedy in their midst. Retiring without the elusive Celtic Cross is so unfair on those great players, but then, who said sport was fair? So many ifs and buts about the game that could be discussed but it won’t change the result. Tipp won, Cork lost. Liam Cahill is smiling, the Premier hurling county signs that used to adorn the old road to Dublin can be put up again. Cork put back in their box for another year. Cork beaten, the hay saved and no Christy Ring to rescue us this time. For Tipperary it’s all about the now, the glory and the celebrating, but what about Cork? The agonising, the mourning, the finger-pointing, the disappointment, the soul-searching. It hurts more with each year as the drought lengthens. The only positive is the future but after this collapse, what is the future?
They may only be clichés but it’s all we have to cling to. Third time lucky, there’s always tomorrow, everything comes to him who waits, when you’re at the bottom there’s only one way left to go, patience is a virtue, but there is little consolation right now in those wise sayings. It was Winston Churchill who said, even though he never lost two All-Ireland finals in a row, ‘Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts.’ And finally, to all the players we say, as author, Mary Anne Radmacher, once wrote, ‘Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying – I will try again tomorrow.’
Up and at them again, lads. Rebels Abú in 2026!
