Locker Room: The sun was waning behind the Killinan End and on Semple's turf the tall shadows made giants out of men and so did the hurling.

On Saturday evening as Tipperary and Limerick played out their intricate, astonishing drama, there was nowhere else in the world you would have wanted to be.

You'd have to be a dedicated churl or a Tipperary man not to love Limerick hurling with some small piece of your heart. Hemmed into Munster by superpowers and apparently left behind in perpetual adolescence by an ascetic era which has changed hurling, Limerick are the fall guys for everyone else's ambitions, the cautionary tale underpinning every manager's speech about being one with the game.

Even when Limerick furrow their brows and burst their brains with concentration they wind up being the extras in somebody else's movie. Offaly in 1994, putting down their glasses and stubbing out their cigarettes for five final minutes in which they blew Limerick out of Croke Park. Wexford in 1996, Liam Griffin's elemental passion, the Yellabellies' inherent lovableness casting Limerick in the role of trespassers.

They use up managers the way most sides use up hurleys, leaving them broken and useless and cast aside. They use up underage prospects in the same way, unable to convert the currency of promise into anything worthwhile at senior level. They are the county who went out with three successive under-21 All-Irelands and came home again with a handful of beans.

It's been six years since Limerick last won a championship game in Munster. That was against Waterford. Look at Waterford now, all puffed up with Munster titles and a National League. Limerick beat Cork in the previous round that summer.

Enough said about prodigal sons.

And yet, yet, yet! You have to love them. You have to understand them. You have to see the passion. Hurling is Limerick's third sport, dying in the city itself but clinging on hardy and prickly as desert cactus in the spots where the game is beloved.

There are encouraging signs again. An All-Ireland minor final appearance two summers ago, a team marshalled by the wonderful Séamus Hickey.

Ahane won Féile na nGael three years ago and were back in the final yesterday (beaten - remarkably and just as encouragingly - Castleknock from Dublin. Congratulation to all concerned). And the senior hurlers show signs of being in tune with themselves at last.

What mad, random thoughts must have been running through the head of Richie Bennis as he stood on the sideline in the gloaming of Saturday evening and watched young Andrew O'Shaughnessy bend, lift and strike a flawless '65' to draw this epic game.

Back in 1973 Richie did precisely the same thing at the end of a Munster final on this same grass to beat Tipp.

Down the line from him on Saturday evening was the ebullient, compulsively watchable figure of Babs Keating, who in 1971 in Killarney had broken the hearts of a fine Limerick team, scoring 3-4 to smite them in a Munster final.

At the end on Saturday night, the pair having looked likely to come to blows at times through a fraught evening, Richie threw an arm around a bemused Babs and they gave a joint television interview with the crowds milling around them.

You know, we've seen so many staid and surly post-match interviews in all codes in recent years by cagey men who take themselves too seriously that this extemporary display of happiness and sportsmanship was a wonderful thing to behold.

Babs looked a little shell-shocked. He is a man known for liking a gamble or two, but what he did on Saturday amounted to more than a mere flutter; he staked his managerial career and reputation on the dropping of Brendan Cummins.

The two men, both with a well-developed sense of themselves and their own worth, have apparently been rubbing each other the wrong way for some time.

The friction over the issue of Cummins's poc-outs caused some sparks to fly during the week. Cummins, three-time hurling All Star, was asked to mind the splinters on the bench while he sat there on Saturday night.

Gerry Kennedy of Killenaule stood between the spires. Benny Dunne moved from centre back to centre forward. Willie Ryan and Pa Bourke didn't start. Séamus Butler, one of those hurlers cursed with a reputation for being careful of himself, came in at corner forward.

We wondered was Babs entirely mad. At half-time with Tipp 10 points up we wondered if he wasn't the Svengali's Svengali, the guru other gurus call Master.

Tipperary's back lines had upped their physicality to 11 on the dial which normally goes to 10.

Butler had scored a wonderful goal. Damien Reale had him penned close to the end line and, assuming Butler would come out to make the angle for a point, allowed himself to be wrongfooted as the Drom and Inch man tore inside and gleefully buried the ball in the net.

To attempt to distil the complexity of the second half and of extra-time into a series of conclusions and assertions would be foolish (or sports journalism), but one man personified Limerick's stubbornness: Ollie Moran.

Ollie's five points in the first game were attributed to his afternoon having been spent in the company of Benny Dunne, who seemed to think there was a cordon sanitaire around the big man.

On Saturday night as Limerick set about chipping away at Tipp's lead by way of scoring points, Moran came into his own, his fearless catching and effulgent strikes making him the early-season leader in the race to be this year's All Star centre forward.

Before this series began Moran last played championship hurling as a forward in the Munster championship of 2001 (he scored 1-1 in the defeat of Waterford and three points against Cork.)

This spring, though, he scored a joyful overhead goal against Tipp in the league (the goal-of-the-year trophy may yet nestle beside his All Star) and Bennis's gamble on him as a forward seemed feasible.

Moran symbolises the pure heartbreak of Limerick hurling. He missed what passed for the good years (1994 to 1996) and when he came into the team in 1997 he left behind a most promising rugby career (he was an under-20 international with Ronan O'Gara) to concentrate on his hurling.

He wouldn't be one to say so himself, but Limerick hurling has let him down far more often than he has let Limerick hurling down.

Watching him in these two games against Tipperary has been inspirational. Ollie is 32 now and the path ahead isn't littered with big chances.

To watch a man pull a team up to his level of intensity and excellence has been wonderful. So we travel back to Limerick next Saturday. The series exists in a bubble of its own now. Context is irrelevant. There are those who would say Cork, Waterford or the Cats would beat the pick of either team but that is to discount what Limerick or Tipp will take away from these games when they are done.

There is something about the relationship between the two counties which means Limerick never quite believe Tipperary are out of sight. That memorable league final of 1992 saw Limerick pull back from eight points down; in the Munster final four years later they hauled back a 10-point deficit. Saturday night was their greatest gaisce since then.

As the game went towards extra-time there was an announcement which drew smiles all around. The PA said the train to Limerick would be waiting in Thurles until the game had ended. We thought of all those poor saps who left early to get good seats on the rattler or hoping to beat the traffic.

Good things come to those who wait.

Just ask Ollie.