GAELIC GAMES: KILKENNY ARE different. They need All-Irelands in the way an infant needs regular feedings. It's a survival thing. A life thing. Yesterday they won their 31st and sailed into the history books.

Won? It was like Bob Beamon's long jump or Usain Bolt's 100 metres. Won is not the word. Winning implies struggle and all the complications offered by another team. This was just an emphatic laying claim to immortality. This was a day when opposition was irrelevant. Waterford, the plucky challengers, hindered Kilkenny about as much as cones in training.

Three-in-a-row. Top of hurling's roll of honour for the first time. The intermediate and minor All-Ireland titles in the bag already. The Under-21 title just lying there waiting to be picked up as part of the clean sweep. Some of these players could go on to win nine or 10 All-Ireland medals. This is greatness. This is Kilkenny now.

They scored 30 points yesterday. And three goals. Could have had a few more of each perhaps, but it was the perfect performance. They conceded not a point from play for the first three-quarters of an hour, and gave away a late, fluky goal having made a sentimental gesture to bring on their beloved sub goalkeeper James McGarry, who was caught cold.

They won every battle, rode every tackle, added value to every ball they hurled. There was a moment in the 24th minute that summed them up. Ken McGrath had the ball on his 45-metre line and he glanced up to see where he might deliver it. He noticed, not for the first time, that there were no options open anywhere. So he opted to swing hard.

He was hooked from behind by Eddie Brennan. Now, Brennan had just sprinted 15 metres from the corner forward position in the hope that McGrath might just hesistate. He did and Brennan got in the perfect hook.

Thing about it was, Eddie Brennan, in the 20th and 21st minutes, had just scored the goals which had ended the game as a contest. He had a point in the bag as well. He is a corner forward. If anyone was entitled to cruise for five minutes it was Eddie Brennan. Kilkenny don't do cruise. Brennan doesn't do hyperbole.

"We're just in a privileged position," he said when asked about Kilkenny's slice of history. "The display today came from the nights of training we put in. We were back there in the start of December. We are just in a great position at the moment, we have a great team and a great panel. There are lads on the line more entitled to play than some of us."

Case in point. TJ Reid. Reid was sprung from the bench in the second half when Martin Comerford came off injured. He scored four points from play and was a spritelike presence everywhere.

For Waterford it had been a long journey. Davy Fitz, their manager, joined for the last mile. He knew their joy in getting to an All-Ireland final. He felt the pain, too, yesterday.

"I believed coming up here today," he said, "that we were going to win. If I didn't I would be no good to those boys inside. Ask me to explain what happened? I can't.

"One thing I will say no matter what the story is, there are probably a few guys out there waiting for this moment to have a go at me. They can have it all. When I came into this job I said if I did everything I knew how to do I would be happy with myself. I did everything I thought was possible. Maybe I will have to look at myself and ask myself questions. I will not blame the boys one bit whatsoever."

He spoke about half-time, the nightmare scenario of facing the team who have obeyed your rules and followed your plan and find themselves 17 points down.

"It wasn't nice," he conceded, "but we didn't drop our heads."

That, poignantly, was the most that Waterford could take away. They took their drubbing with dignity. They kept working, kept resisting the expanding margin.

It had been 45 years. It will be a few again. We will never see some of these wonderful players again. Their dignity was the least they deserved to bring with them.

Instead of a match we saw an exhibition of power and greatness. And we watched Brian Cody carried around the Croke Park pitch on striped shoulders like a bemused cowboy on a delirious rodeo bull.

It was striking to watch Cody before the game. While Waterford gathered in a great entourage for the anthem, Cody was down the line, a singular, unfussed figure. The game exploded into raw physicality moments later. He stood in the same spot, just as nonplussed.

His place as hurling's greatest manager seems assured. The only questions concern how long his reign will continue.

"Terrific," he said quietly of the bravura performance he had coaxed from his team on a day when history was on the line. "Super feeling. That is what this day is all about. The players were outstanding, they were terrific from start to finish and were totally focused, obviously. They hurled at a very serious level."

On a day of rare sights his quiet smile of satisfaction spoke volumes. This wasn't just about winning or about history. It was about perfection. He had put a team out who had delivered just that at the right time. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.