Pigs didn’t fly in 2004, nor did Martians land in Croke Park, but Kilkenny revealed themselves to be mere mortals, a prospect which in April had seemed about as plausible as flat-earth theory when the hungry Cats set out in pursuit of an historic All-Ireland three-in-a-row – which would have enshrined them in the heavens with only Christy Ring’s Cork as realistic equals.

Ultimately, their demise at the last hurdle – like those of Tyson, Pele’s Brazil or the Liverpool sides of the 1980s – illustrated that sporting invulnerability and omnipotence can only ever be fleeting states, that however stunningly impressive the conveyor belt of fresh talent restocking Brian Cody’s shelves, there’s no formula on earth that can magic another DJ. Greatness depends on the simultaneous zenith of several genius stick-men in the one county at the one time, which is where Brian Corcoran, Sean Óg O’hAilpin, Niall McCarthy, Joe Deane and the O’Connor twins came in.
Cork’s triumph was effervescent, majestic, imperious – and for anyone who’d paid close attention in 2003 to the nature of Donal O’Grady’s empire-building efforts, no surprise at all. Sean Óg had no serious competition as Hurler of the Year, and the only sadness was the contemplation of just what his sibling Setanta could have added to the team, and done for the sport, had he stayed in Ireland.
As ever, opinion was divided as to whether Cork and Kilkenny’s progress to yet another mutual September showdown was (cough) ‘bad for the game’. OK, it may lack something in the novelty stakes, but anyone blind enough to perceive the present-day Kilkenny-Cork rivalry as anything less than an epic saga comparable to Ali-Frazier, Connors-McEnroe or Kasparov-Karpov is electing to miss out on history in motion.
The others are, in truth, only footsteps behind, with Waterford and Wexford leading the charge – but if next year’s All-Ireland reunites the Cats and Rebels for a third time straight, this observer won’t be counted among the whingers. Bring ‘em on. It’s a short life, so little time.
Of course, not all was sweetness and light. The have-nots remain as oceanically removed from the Big Nine as ever. Dublin, having displayed mouth-watering hints of progress, took another few steps backwards this year, doing the business against the corpse counties only to be subjected to horrific buggerings by Offaly and Kilkenny. Blame should be directed away from the easiest target – manager Humphrey Kelleher works day and night to raise the standard – and towards the lazy fat bastards who fail to get off their arses and along to Croker when the county calls.
Otherwise, we’ll still be singing the same old sad song, same old story, sirens sing no lullaby, when my billions of little babies have become pensioners. If this prospect concerns you, Dubliners, please do something about it and enlist your kids in the nearest club. Bogmen (anyone born west of Dame Street) - please move to our lovely capital ASAP, with its extensive range of consumer conveniences and lifestyle options, to rear your children. Priority access to aspiring immigrants from Cork, Tipp and Kilkenny.
No questions asked.