IN Wexford, the memories of days like this are fuzzy in outline. Yellow bellied men hoisting silverware above their shoulders on Croke Park's green spread. Boys have grown to men hearing tales of the time of plenty and concluded that as a punishment for blithe success, the hurling gods had cursed their county.
Yesterday, the bad times ended. Close on 5 p.m., a wan sun peeped down from behind the grey stands and afforded the players darting shadows, then the final whistle blew and players, shadows and all disappeared under a deluge of humanity. The hurlers of Limerick sought a quiet corner to absorb their second All Ireland final defeat in three years. Wexford celebrated liberation.
In a game which ranged in quality from the sublime to the mediocre, Wexford suffered the dismissal of corner forward Eamonn Scallan in the first half, yet played a tactically superior game to Limerick through the second half. Having survived a late siege, they emerged as the worthiest and most welcome of winners, the newest standard bearers of hurling's fin de siecle revival.
In Wexford, even the brassbound optimists refused to believe that this day would come. Defeat has been heaped upon defeat. The hurling universe made a standing joke out of Wexford - like Ivan Lendl they couldn't play on grass, the EU had put their losers' medals into intervention and so on and so on.
They came to Croke Park yesterday transformed in style and attitude. Like all great stories, Wexford's is one of suffering, epiphany and redemption. The beauty of Gaelic games is the epiphany, the thrill of seeing ordinary people adorn their lives with extraordinary deeds.
Liam Griffin, a hotelier from Rosslare, conjured yesterday's triumph from the most unlikely of circumstances. He became Wexford hurling manager 23 months ago. Nobody else in the county would take the job. Yesterday in the dizzy aftermath he spoke of home, hurling and the future.
"I'm so happy that hurling is now back, rooted in Wexford. I hope that Wexford hurling will develop of here and go on. Winning the cup is just one thing, the future is what matters. When I'm old and grey I want to be coming up here to see these games as a visitor and for Wexford to be in them. I don't want 10 in a row or five in a row. I want to see new counties come along. Waterford. Down. Those teams. For hurling's sake."
What next for Wexford? "We're going to declare an independent republic."
In that sunny statelet there will be many princes. George O'Connor, the farming man who has hurled on losing teams in the county for 19 years, had his long overdue reward yesterday. His joy was no greater than that of Rory McCarthy, a student in his first year of senior hurling. He was still in nappies when George O'Connor first played in Croke Park.
There are as many good stories in Wexford are there are players of the greatest game. Men and women broke their hearts waiting for yesterday. In the Faythe and Buffer's Alley, in Fethard and Gorey and all points to Wexford town, the bonfires will be burning tonight. Steadfast faith has its reward.