First, a moment to reflect on the plight of those less fortunate than ourselves.There were just shy of 40,000 people in Croke Park yesterday. Call them the anointed. To those who might have occupied some of the other 30,000 seats but reckoned they had something better to do, two thoughts. First, commiserations. Second, something better to do??? How wrong could you be? Tom Humphries reports from Croke park

There's a replay next Saturday, and unless you're burying a loved one you really don't have anything better to be doing. And it has to be a loved one, not just someone you knew well and liked. The deceased will understand.

It wasn't that Clare and Kilkenny yesterday was a thing of sweetness and light. No, the hurling wasn't crisp and kingly. Nor did the air hum from the deliverance of elegant grace notes.

What Kilkenny and Clare were was rugged and primal and epic. They were raw and passionate and feral. They were brave and they were strong. And if that's your type of beauty you'd have fallen in love.

Scores have seldom been traded at such high value. There were times when you decided Kilkenny weren't going to pick themselves up and continue. There were moments when you shook your head and began writing Clare's obituary.

There was everything. Courage. Genius. Fights. Controversy. A sending-off. Several penalties.

And in the end there was frothy comedy. The final whistle blew. Players hugged. Swapped jerseys. Managers furrowed their brows and headed down tunnels. Then the PA crackled. People halfway down the steps and headed for home were summoned back. There was to be 20 minutes of extra time.

Nobody was grumbling. Seventy minutes next Saturday seemed tasty, but seeing as we were settled in already perhaps another 20 minutes right now would suffice. So the teams regrouped and huddled, and as we waited we became aware of GAA officials busy like ants down on the pitch, some of them making elaborate gestures. It's all over now, baby blue.

And the PA came back on and said that, nope, there'd been a dreadful mistake and there would, after all, be no extra time but the GAA was mighty sorry for the inconvenience and everyone with a match programme was entitled to a pair of free All-Ireland tickets. Well, they said they were sorry.

In the aftermath, when the teams had warmed down and the managers had debriefed them, Anthony Daly, the Clare boss, stood in the corridor under the Hogan Stand and reflected that until yesterday he had doubted himself, had wondered if all the passion he brought to playing and to loving the Clare jersey and to making speeches after he held cups aloft, he had wondered if all that was communicable, if he had the ability to infect others with it.

You were glad for him to have found that he has what it takes when it comes to motivating a room full of players, but more impressed with the sharpness and fluidity of his tactics. It takes a while to adjust to the view from the sideline, but Daly has been a quick learner.

To counter the threat of Henry Shefflin, Clare played yesterday with just five forwards and with Alan Markham dropped back to sweep up in the space between Shefflin at centre forward and DJ Carey at full forward. One could imagine Markham's face as Daly announced to him during the week that he would like him to hurl in that gap between a rock and a hard place.

Hurl there he did, and Markham played well, pulling out a series of huge clearances off breaking balls till Shefflin moved to full forward after the interval and caused mayhem for 10 minutes.

There were other tussles just as fascinating. Kilkenny's Tommy Walsh on Niall Gilligan. Any number of Kilkenny players attempting to shackle Tony Griffin.

Clare started well, with Gilligan scoring the first three points, but Kilkenny hauled them back and after that every score seemed to have a seismic impact. Clare had a point from a Seánie McMahon 65 at the end of the half to leave them a point ahead. Both sides withdrew to consider their positions.

Kilkenny made what seemed like the decisive change. Shefflin went to full forward, DJ Carey to centre forward. John Hoyne came in as a sub. A minute into the half and Carey picked a ball in the centre-forward territory, couriered a handpass to Hoyne, who windmilled to the net. Shefflin, wolfishly keen to torture Frank Lohan, scored the next three points. Suddenly Kilkenny were three points clear.

Clare, though, are battlers. That much has been absorbed from Daly. The game was suddenly in tumult. Tommy Walsh fouled Gilligan. Second yellow and say goodnight, Tommy. Clare missed the penalty, but now James Ryall was no longer free to clear up loose ball in the Kilkenny back line. Clare went to work. Suddenly Frank Lohan was back in control, and at the other end Tony Griffin was doing a fair Shefflin impression.

Eventually, after another two penalties (goal from Gilligan, judiciously chosen point from Shefflin), it went to endgame. Clare had ball aplenty but you looked around and wondered who had the guts, the cojones, the neck to attempt a score.

One man. One of the heroes. Jamesie O'Connor. Thirty-five yards, a quick glance and all over bar the confusion. Classic Clare. Classic Jamesie.