GAELIC GAMES: In Wexford when old grandfathers dandle tow-headed little ones on their knees in forty years time, they'll talk about 1996 and how it was the Riverdance of sport and they'll talk about 2003 and how it was the summer of staying alive, writes Tom Humphries.

Between the yarns of glory and songs of survival they'll have imparted a good deal of what it's like to be a Wexford hurling person.

They'll talk about brave Larry Murphy and how he got his old hands to so many dropping balls in the dying minutes, but couldn't set the net blazing. They'll talk about time trickling away. About Cork hitting four wides towards the death, about how they were so absorbed they never worried about traffic. And then Damien Fitzhenry's puck-out, Mitch Jordan's pass and Rory McCarthy's goal.

And 40 years hence in Cork? Who knows what they'll be saying? This summer could end in glory or tragedy yet and neither is likely to dent the way future blood and bandage generations feel about themselves. Confidence is non-negotiable by the Lee.

They'll be playing this one again at Croke Park, on Saturday, the same day Ireland take on Wales in a World Cup warm-up over at Lansdowne Road.

Whichever way the replay of this All-Ireland semi-final goes, the game will be spoken about for generations. It was epic and beautiful and it conjured an ending to fit the whole. It was the latest instalment in a hurling relationship that stretches back almost fifty years to the days of Ring and Foley. It left our impressions of both teams vastly enhanced.

Of Wexford in particular. This season they have been like a car with a jumpy battery. Some days they purr. Some days they are flat. They have some venerable features but the restoration of various veterans to the side seemed only to highlight the inadequacies of youth. Until yesterday we'd seen the kids but we hadn't seen the whizz.

Together they hurled up a storm yesterday. If you ever doubted the influence of bloodlines and breeding, the pace and touch of the two Jacob brothers ended the argument. They had the touch of their father and the touch of Oulart men, as exemplified elsewhere by the peerless Liam Dunne. And Mitch Jordan, who seems to have spent a long time at the door clearing his throat, finally stepped into the parlour yesterday. He had 1-3 of his own and cooly set up that last goal.

Cork, perhaps because they were more highly-rated yesterday morning, will have harder questions to ask today. They played superbly for patches but with a two-point lead heading towards the death they came over all prodigal and squandered four point chances just for the hell of it.

Their half-back line didn't do what it says on the tin and the successful restoration of Diarmuid O'Sullivan to the full-back position wasn't enough to banish the concerns about Pat Mulcahy, the incumbent.

Yet it would be churlish to pick over the entrails so soon. Mostly, this game was filled with good things. The coltish brilliance of Setanta Ó hAilpín was rewarded with 1-3. His brother, Seán Óg, came into the game as it grew and hit such a plenitude of long, raking diagonal passes to his brother he is in danger of becoming known as Setanta's Little Helper.

John Gardiner had a difficult time from placed-balls with the new sliotar but his four points from play were all exceptional. And Joe Deane? It's not that Daragh Ryan had a bad day - he didn't, he picked plenty of high ones and swept away lots of ball with rare style and confidence - but Joe Deane ended up with 1-7, all but four points of it from play.

And O'Sullivan got through a mountain of work in the second half, even late on when Murphy, working himself into the ground, managed to get his hand to a few clearances which came down snow-tipped and dangerous.

Both sides went away with their regrets and their sweet memories. Almost 60,000 people left with the intention of begging, stealing or borrowing to get to the replay.

"It was a game we could have won and a game we could have lost," mused Cork's Donal O'Grady "It was a fair result. If they'd have had a bit of luck they could have won. Yet we were three points up, having said that, and our shooting was a bit wayward. Maybe if we'd have carried it on the stick and got a handy little free ... "

And his thoughts drifted off to the vast continent of what might have been and what could have been. John Conran was in slightly more chipper form down the corridor. Underdogs' privilege.

"My heart specialist is being paid overtime," he smiled. "The lads are well used to being down. Every game we've played we've been down four or five points. We just took longer than usual to come back!"

Managers aren't permitted smiles before their work is fully done and he soon sobered up with memories of 2001. "We were in this position before, though, We did this against Tipp two years ago and lost in the replay. We have no intention of doing that again."

Indeed the echoes of two years ago are interesting. Rory McCarthy goaled that day as well. And Wexford were five points down late on before they pulled it back. Six days later, it rained and Wexford were ragged. They lost two players to red cards, lost all composure and lost the game by 11 points.

That's not a story grandfathers will recite but it's one Conran will be telling over and over this week.

Out west, Donegal enjoyed their biggest day of football since the glory of September 1992. The outsiders travelled west and ended Galway's summer in a dramatic replay that finished 0-14 to 0-11.

The victory represents another great moment for Brian McEniff, the closest thing the GAA has to a magic realist.

"Men died out here on the field of McHale Park and I am very proud to be a Donegal man this evening," he declared afterwards.

Galway at times flickered with the speed and skill that saw them capture two All-Irelands but they struggled to match Donegal's sheer zest and enthusiasm.

Down 0-13 to 0-6 with 20 minutes remaining, Galway mounted a slow-burning comeback that peaked in a series of dramatic adventures around the Donegal goalmouth. The poor mouths of the All-Ireland final series survived, however, and hared back up towards the Rosses in ecstasy. Armagh, the All-Ireland champions and reapers of romantic stories, await them in Croke Park in a fortnight's time