IT IS just after eight o’clock in Semple Stadium and in some other world, habituated by those who run the GAA, the night sky is clear and the fabled stadium warmed by the cheers of thousands. But in the real world, the opening Allianz National Hurling League game between Kilkenny, the All-Ireland champions, and Tipperary, their closest challengers, has been called off for the second time in four nights.

This time, they left it just half an hour before the appointed throw-in to cancel a game because of the weather that had been flagged days in advance.

The famous field is flood-lit and utterly forlorn and a broad, familiar figure walks across it, shoulders hunched and peaked hat worn low. If Brian Cody can’t heat this old place, nobody can.

Some 3,200 people had arrived in Semple Stadium when the man in charge of the loudspeaker announced what even then seemed inevitable. Down the broad steps they marched in various states of disgust. The automatic replies of those asked about this latest fiasco with the catch cry that is fast becoming the motto for 21st century Ireland: “It’s a f**king joke.”

And it was. One of those uniquely Irish jokes. Only the GAA could allow free admission to a match that was never going to take place – and have thousands of poor suckers turn up.

Everyone was in agreement that they had driven to Semple Stadium on the understanding that the game would surely fall victim to the weather, just as it had done on Saturday night when television pictures showed a Semple Stadium that looked as though it had been transported to the South Col of Mount Everest.

Most motorists had encountered snowfall of varying volume on the way to Thurles. The snow lying across the darkening fields was a pretty strong hint this was no night for the beautiful game.

Westmeath referee Barry Kelly, the man tasked with the unenviable role of saying Yeah or Nay, held out as long as he could. At half-past six, the radio bulletins were insistent that a hurling match would take place in Thurles and that the turnstiles would be open to the world. An hour later, though, the ice on the side of the pitch and the fact that trying to catch a sliotar in snowfall illuminated by floodlights might be enough to bamboozle even the artists from Tipperary and Kilkenny was enough to convince him that playing the match would be a form of madness too mad even for the GAA.

Neither side wasted much time. Kilkenny headed over to neighbouring Morris Park to get some kind of exercise out of the evening. Tipperary headed for another nearby field. And by eight-thirty, of course, the skies were clear.

Even now, we have a lingering suspicion that Brian Cody or Liam Sheedy might have knocked on the front door of Jimmy Doyle, whose house is in the shadow of Semple Stadium, to ask the Tipperary legend if he wouldn’t mind whistling the damn game so they could get it over with.

“There seems to be a small crowd this evening, the weather was bad all day, there was a lot of sleet and rain,” observed Ned Quinn, the unflappable Kilkenny county secretary before the bus rolled back to the Marble City.

“I checked here at three o’clock and I was told it was okay. I checked it again about half-five and I was told ‘Yes.’ We checked before we left Kilkenny – it is only about an hour away – and we were told, ‘Yeah, come ahead.’ It wasn’t grand, but it was playable.”

But it wasn’t playable. Or was it? Some thought it was. One lady told Brian Carthy of RTÉ: “God be with the days when men were men.”

But it wasn’t the fault of the men. The men were eager to hurl.

“We could have played it on Monday night and it would have been perfect – it’s the luck of the draw,” said Sheedy wistfully.

“Looking out at it now it doesn’t seem so bad, but Barry has a job to do and he had to look after the players’ safety. I thought it was way worse on Saturday night – it was pelting down. It’s gone now, so what can we do?”

Not for the first time in its history, Snowgate will cause congestion on the ever-crowded GAA calendar.

“It is very, very tight,” said Brian Cody. “We went for tonight because we did not want a backlog of fixtures. That is what we have now anyway.”

The Kilkenny manager was reluctant to criticise the decision, as that would have meant hanging referee Kelly out to dry. He is right: the official was placed in an impossible position. But the failure to call this match off at a sensible hour is beyond explanation.

A casual glimpse at the weather forecast would have told them. For once, the newspapers were right. The snow was general all over Thurles.

Everyone left Semple Stadium feeling cold, bitter and bitterly cold.

At least the girl behind the chip counter did brisk business. The chips, by the way, were not on the GAA.

On the radio, a news bulletin mentioned that Cheryl Cole had sent a text all the way from LA announcing: “It’s off.”

Now you tell us, Cheryl.

Now you tell us.