WHEN Lar Corbett blasted home his third goal in last year’s hurling final he not only assured Tipperary a famous victory, he also wrote the popular script for 2011. Having somehow snatched defeat from the jaws of victory in 2009, Tipperary had now resolutely made amends over Kilkenny and immediately pundits were predicting another gigantic battle of the big two in the 2011 final.
Things weren’t always this predictable. In the past, counties outside of the dominant hurling areas did win championships on a fairly regular basis and so Laois, Dublin, Kerry and more bizarrely London have had their moments of ecstasy. Indeed in every decade up to the millennium year, at least one county other than Tipperary, Cork and Kilkenny made a breakthrough for All-Ireland glory. Then the Noughties copperfastened the existing status quo as the only decade that no county outside the big three got to handle Liam McCarthy.
Some did cling this year to the forlorn hope that Galway would finally mine their golden vein of underage talent, Donal O’Grady would reclaim former glories for Limerick or Waterford would finally learn to “pony up” in the Croke Park cauldron.
But all this has now proven just wistful thinking. For the third consecutive year Tipperary and Kilkenny are destined to meet in a titanic flurry of clashing ash on the first Sunday of September, unless, of course, an upwardly mobile Dublin team spoil the party by overcoming the All-Ireland champions tomorrow.
But would they dare overturn the popular consensus in such a barefaced way? Dublin folk can, of course, reasonably claim they have every right to so dare. They are after all National Hurling League champions having defeated Tipperary and Kilkenny along the way. But canny supporters of the clashing ash know that not only are the metropolitans facing a Tipperary team at the peak of its prowess they also carry a weight of history on their shoulders.
Hurling is essentially a rural game, thriving amid the open spaces and fertile farmlands of the south where a toddler’s first present is likely a camán. Here the extravagant skills required to play the game at the highest level are grooved early and informally before being reinforced by clubs and schools. The Tipperary players gracing Croke Park tomorrow come from a background where hurling is central to life, other sports are inconsequential by comparison and there is always plenty of open space for an informal puck around.
Indeed our greatest hurlers almost universally hail from such environments. Cork’s Christy Ring won fame with city club Glen Rovers, but originally wielded the camán for distinctly non-urban Cloyne. Mick Mackey hailed from then very rural Castleconnell, Co Limerick while John Doyle was a Tipperary farmer. Nicky English emerged from the non-traditional hurling parish of Cullen, Co Tipperary but spoke of spending long hours fine-tuning his skills by playing a ball against a gable wall while the current king of the camán, Henry Shefflin, is native to deeply bucolic Ballyhale.
Now some readers will correctly point out that Dublin has a proud record with six All-Ireland hurling victories. True, but these victories came when rural hurlers living in the metropolis could not declare for their native county. Successful Dublin teams were consequently backboned by players imported mainly from Tipperary and Kilkenny.
Easier travel now means that most migrant hurlers continue wielding the camán with their county of birth. So the present Dublin team – with three notable exceptions – now comes refreshingly equipped with city accents and players who hurl – not because it was their unalterable destiny – but because they chose to from a large suite of possible pastimes.
Modern Irish cities are, however, challenging environments in which to groove the skills of the camán. The greedy excesses of the Celtic Tiger ensured that there are now far fewer green spaces while the informal street hurling for young people from times past would, if replicated today in a leafy Dublin suburb, most likely be terminated by a Garda intervention.
Today, urban-based hurlers must learn the required shills in the formal setting of club or school rather than hard-wiring them informally in the countryside as under-age rural players do. In an attempt, perhaps, to compensate for this disadvantage, the GAA has recently poured huge resources into coaching young hurlers in the capital. And Dublin manager Anthony Daly has his players at a previously unheard fitness level and insists on an incredible work rate throughout the entire 70 minutes.
Will this be enough to compensate for the innate skill and astounding speed of thought that characterises Tipperary’s recent performances? The beauty is, of course, that we must wait for the game to find out. So as you settle down to watch tomorrow afternoon, remember the players so eagerly showcasing the skills of the world’s fastest field game are true amateurs and equally expected to give no less effort in a November club game before maybe 50 spectators. It is this unique localism that elevates Gaelic Games above other sports and ensures Ireland’s beautiful game continues to enthral us one and all.