Sideline Cut: For this year anyway, there should be no complaints about yet another All-Ireland hurling final between Cork and Kilkenny. Hurling and the gods that govern it demanded a Kilkenny appearance: the absence of the black and amber colours from tomorrow's showpiece would have practically negated the point of their peerless work of the previous two seasons. Kilkenny had to be there: anyone with an ounce of sporting romance in them would wish it so.
And Cork? Well, whatever opponent was fated to meet Kilkenny in this year's final could look forward to the possibility of three precious achievements rolled into one. First, winning the All-Ireland championship. Second, the - indefinite - prolonging of Kilkenny's wait for a three-in-a-row dynastic team, a generation of hurlers for the ages. And third, the denial of Kilkenny's right to assume leadership of the all-time senior championship honours roll.
Beating Kilkenny tomorrow would mean more than another September homecoming by the Lee, it would represent the destruction of a body of work so painstakingly assembled by Brian Cody and his players over the past half decade.
A loss to Cork would be a really sombre moment in a county where the deathless standards of hurling excellence have perhaps given rise to a degree of easy-going complacency in some supporters. It would be tantamount to the ultimate Cork raid, not just of the immediate prize but of something of rare and intangible value to Kilkenny hurling hearts. Do not tell me that would not make a win all the sweeter down south.
In counties like Kilkenny and Cork where All-Ireland hurling pedigree is considered a cultural cornerstone, it is the varnish of native reputation and the state of the game that matters more so than the hurlers and the teams that honour it.
Only the very greatest artists are singled out, their names preserved through tales tall or otherwise. And only those teams imbued with the cold ambition and depth of talent capable of registering All-Ireland domination for an entire era are assured of standing alone, remembered and distinct from the two dozen-odd champion teams that preceded them and those that will surely follow in their wake.
The stakes are raised to an inordinate degree for this Kilkenny team and its supporters tomorrow. They will get to feel something of the anxiety and paranoia and actual illness that afflicts those counties, be they of hurling or football tradition, that witness an All-Ireland appearance once in a generation or once in a lifetime.
Acute as an ordinary All-Ireland final loss for Kilkenny supporters might well be, there is always the vague consolation that a shot at vindication is probably never going to be too far away. That comfort blanket counts for nothing in this case. For Kilkenny, tomorrow may never come again.
It is hard to imagine a county better equipped than Cork, a people who have made a science out of cockiness and who are ingrained with an understanding of winning, to exploit that fact. That is what makes tomorrow's hurling final such an appealing and tantalising proposition for neutrals for whom a Cork/Kilkenny final might ordinarily signify that hurling is a locked up world that is never going to change.
The rebirth of Cork since the proletarian strike of two winters ago and the granting of luxury privileges by the county board is a fascinating subject in its own right. Donal O'Grady steers a seriously competitive ship, albeit one that does not seem to allow for much of a laugh on board. Returning to a second successive All-Ireland final after such an unpredictable summer of hurling - and after playing second string to Waterford in Munster - is no mean feat.
But from an historical context, this is Kilkenny's day to seize or to blow. This is the game which would bestow upon them the record book's validation of greatness.
But it is fair to say that over the course of this summer they have already shown that they possess the stuff of teams that have illuminated various eras through their talent and force of personality.
Watching Kilkenny take the last two All-Irelands, it was hard to fully warm to them because, although they carry in their ranks two of the most recognisable figures in the modern game, DJ Carey and Henry Shefflin, they were a faceless kind of team.
Many people remarked that for all his splendour, it would be hard to pick out JJ Delaney, the current (and maybe the next) hurler of the year, in a crowd. That is not a problem per se nor it is a criticism of Delaney but it is unusual and indicative of the fact Kilkenny seemed to turn up on match days and then just blend in with the masses as soon as the whistle went.
Perhaps that is a consequence of the genuinely easy-going and understated nature that seems to apply to on-field giants like Peter Barry or Noel Hickey. The more celebrated the stories of the ferocious Kilkenny training sessions became, the more quiet and off-hand the players appeared in discussions of what it is they are about. So be it: that is their right. But it made watching them a detached business: it was hard to get emotional about a gang of sportsmen who kept their own emotions so rigidly in check.
Then came this summer. From the Wexford game onwards, there was the sense that a third consecutive All-Ireland title was going to be a bridge too far for Brian Cody and players, ranging from the venerable Carey to Cha Fitzpatrick.
Kilkenny revealed more about themselves over the following eight weeks than they did in the preceding four years. From Cody's extravagant sideline performance in the tour-de-force against Galway to the nail-biting and genuinely nerve-wracking series of games against Clare, Kilkenny just refused to be killed.
Several times this summer - most memorably against Clare - they looked like men on the ropes, stuttering and exhausted - but each time they found a way, they learned about themselves. They had traumas. The last-second goal against Wexford, Tommy Walsh's early dismissal against Clare, Henry Shefflin's appalling eye injury in the Thurles replay, the sheer fact of having to face the thunder ball of Waterford in the All-Ireland semi-finals. Each week presented them with something akin to a convincing excuse that this was not their year. But they rejected it. They did not want it. They could not contemplate it.
And so Kilkenny's hell bent desire to return to a third All-Ireland final, a mixture of romance and sheer bloody stubbornness and soul has been one of the saving graces of the summer of sport. In the long term, the world of hurling may be too narrow and introverted and it may be in trouble. It may need something new dramatic but on this occasion, another duel between the blue bloods of the sport will do just fine.
Kilkenny versus Cork amounts to scores of dead hurlers and great days. Tomorrow may lack novelty but it arrives shining with promise and glinting with danger.
