It was wetter than an otter’s pocket, but Jon Rahm kept his head at Portstewart

TV View: For even more drama than the Irish Open you needed to be in Thurles

Irish Open: Jon Rahm had marched to a six-stroke victory. Photograph: Matt Mackey/Presseye/Inpho

Tony Johnstone spent much of Sunday like the rest of us might do while sitting on a beach in our oilskins on an average Irish summer’s afternoon, staring at the sky and, with hope in his heart, saying, “It looks like it might brighten.” Come late afternoon, though, he’d given up. “It’s wetter than an otter’s pocket,” he said with a sigh.

So his emotions about the elements on the final day of the Dubai Duty Free Irish Open, at Portstewart, merely heightened his respect for Jon Rahm and his “beating up” of the course, him being Spanish and all – although Seve Ballesteros, José María Olazábal and Sergio García had profitable enough trips to Ireland over the years, so maybe it’s time to concede that weather isn’t an issue. There’s rain in Spain, too, after all.

Still, Johnstone marvelled at Rahm’s performance, not least his retention of his head after a hiccup involving an incident on the sixth green that, we were told, prompted a bunch of viewers to fire off emails alerting the rules people to the alleged transgression. To which the less intrusive of the golf-viewing public said something along the lines of, “Ah, God almighty, not this again.” (Lexi Thompson: “Tell me about it.”)

The snitchers' day was completely banjaxed when Andy McPhee, the chief referee of the European Tour, told us that all was well

Anyway, the snitchers’ day was completely banjaxed when Andy McPhee, the chief referee of the European Tour, told us that all was well: Rahm’s marking of his ball might have been a little off, but he’d made a “reasonable judgment” under the circumstances. And on he marched to a six-stroke victory.

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For a more dramatic sporting climax you needed to be in Thurles, where Waterford were eight points up against Kilkenny with 11 minutes to go. And ended up being taken into extra time.

“It’s like Dracula,” Jamesie O’Connor said of the Felines up in the Sky Sports studio. “Until you drive the stake clean through their heart, you don’t see the back of them.”

Maurice Shanahan: drove a stake clean through Kilkenny’s heart. Photograph: Cathal Noonan/Inpho

But Jamie Barron and Maurice Shanahan did just that with their extra-time goals, although when Nicky English informed the Waterford faithful that “you can probably enjoy it at this stage”, they most likely hurled abuse in his direction for the fate tempting. Even though it was 33 seconds into added time and they were five points up. Two more points later, followed by the referee’s final whistle, and they were safe.

The quality of the pitch invasion that followed hadn't been matched since the last time Waterford beat Kilkenny in the championship, the year Darby O'Gill and the Little People had its world premiere, in Dublin.

And 1959 was also the year, as coincidence would have it, that Johnny Giles made his Republic of Ireland debut.

When he talked recently about Giles, the documentary on his life that was about to be aired on RTÉ, he mentioned children who knew him only as a pundit often asking him, "Did you ever play football?" "I played a bit, yeah," he would reply.

If they'd tuned in to what was a gem of a film they'd have seen for their own eyes that, yeah, he could play a bit

If they’d tuned in to what was a gem of a film they’d have seen for their own eyes that, yeah, he could play a bit.

They’d probably have gasped, though, on hearing that he set sail for Manchester United when he was just 14, his broken-hearted mother putting £1 in his pocket for the journey while cursing the day the United scout Billy Behan spotted her son’s talent. “But I would have swum over,” he said.

It was all there: his relationship with Matt Busby, Don Revie and Brian Clough, and his playing, managerial and punditry careers, with plenty a nugget thrown in. And no little poignancy. Such as Giles visiting the empty RTÉ studio where he was a pundit for 30 years, then watching an Irish game back home in his living room, singing along to the national anthem. Kleenex missed a trick by not sponsoring the film.

“I never wanted to be a star. I wanted to be a great player – and there’s a difference,” he said. “It’s the making the most of what you have is the important thing. That’s a satisfaction that you can live with for the rest of your life.” And he had the look of a satisfied man.