So, Munster final day in Thurles. What images does that summon? The day is so festooned in lore and glory that reality seems too small for it. Yesterday, Waterford and Cork hurled intensely for a half and hurled very well for a second half.

It didn't rank as a classic but of the 52,833 paying customers there was no one inclined to seek their money back.

After a winter of shadow boxing with their own county board, Cork came to the summer season floating like butterflies and stinging like bees. They swarmed all over Clare last month and yesterday they did the same to Waterford, gently relieving them of their Munster crown and giving them an encouraging pat on the rear end as they did so. Cork are back.

In that respect, the afternoon gave us nothing but the same old story. A Munster final between Cork and Waterford? Unless the stars are mis-aligned you think Cork will win. Yet there was a niggling feeling.

Waterford had a smart, Cork manager. They had forwards who could shoot sliotars through letter boxes from speeding cars. And they had the terrible desperation of the hungry. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Waterford came out looking to knock the world off its feet. They established their territory as keenly as ranchers seeing off indians and all over the field if there was a shoulder charge to be made, a block to be implemented, a hook to be used, they were there.

Cork just lay on the ropes, winking back at them. Imagine the pain. Waterford, fire in their gut, score the first two points, win the first few shemozzles, do the early standing on toes. And then the ball sweeps down the field.

Niall McCarthy mis-hits a point attempt. Setanta Ó hAilpín comes and takes possession. The Waterford defence converges and the goalkeeper comes towards him; just as he does so, Setanta just swivels and plants it in the net.

And then you begin looking around.

Paul Flynn is groggy from an early knock. Ken McGrath ain't motoring so good either. And you feel the dreadful fear. The fear of this being another Waterford team to whom the word "nearly" is tagged.

So you fight for air. John Mullane, whom you never thought would be hurling this summer, gets a goal and a point suddenly, the goal off a full back's howler, and then you have a golden run of five points and you're beginning to think. Today. Today. Today.

It stops, of course. You almost don't score for the last 15 minutes of the half, just a point from Tony Browne, which gives you a five point half-time lead facing into the breeze.

Little doubts now. Tony Browne is hobbling. Midfield is struggling since he went gimpy. And after the break Cork come out and hose down the middle of the field until it's just how they like it. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. They take five points on the trot. Eight minutes after the break and they are level and playing with the wind.

That was the story of Waterford's day. The last 27 minutes were about their pride and not about their potential. They ended up sharing six goals with Cork and earning their respect but nothing in the key area of the pitch went for them.

Mullane scored 3-1 and came away with a loser's trinket. They ended up having to replace central planks of their side, a full forward, a midfielder, a centre back and a McGrath brother.

They showed plenty of what they are about without ever showing they were going to win. The failures on their side were conspicuous enough to let everyone know this was a game Waterford could have won.

The regret will twist their gut for a long time. They notched wides and they stood up everytime they were asked to but the Cork jerseys were filled by men who are reared to expect Munster finals in Thurles.

Reared to it. Consider the testimony of two players experiencing their first Munster senior final. John Gardiner and Tom Kenny grew into the game like well fed boys growing into confirmation suits. Gardiner drove huge, heartbreaking frees over the Waterford bar in the second half. Kenny emerged as one of the stars of the half-back line.

"They tell you it's only another game, but it isn't really," said Gardiner. "You have to go out and experience it and then settle down. We were happy enough when we got out on the field.

"I was surprised by the pace of the game at the start alright. They came at us at a ferocious pace. But we took it and we're delighted. "

Just like that. Kenny wasn't much more flustered. Munster finals were created for the benefit and enlargement of Cork men.

"I know what it feels like now when people talk about it, about the Munster final. We knew today we didn't play well in the first half but we decided we didn't want to come away from here with regrets. We have none. "

Nothing dizzy or debutant-ish about either of them. They knotted their ties and headed afterwards into the Thurles sun, medals jingling in their pockets. Croke Park looming in their thoughts.

Last winter they withdrew their services in protest at the way they were being treated by their own county board. This summer, although nobody will come out and say it, they have proved a point. The best plants need tending.

Seven weeks more care they need before the All-Ireland semi-final. Their performances this year have been different in character and intensity but impressive for the ways in which they can devise wins. Nobody will look forward to meeting them.