AROUND THIS TIME eight years ago, John Kiely had just brought Limerick to the All-Ireland final by beating Cork in the semi.
He made his way into the Croke Park media room and decided to get his retaliation in first. If any attempts were made to contact his players, presumably to cadge an interview rather than ask for any spare tickets lying around, then he would, in his words, “Shut the whole thing down.”
The message was forceful. But also understandable too. Limerick hadn’t won an All-Ireland since 1973 and many sober hurling people felt that had put the cart before the horse in recent final failures of 2007 and 1994.
But with years comes wisdom. Kiely understands life examined backwards, but he could only live it forwards. He’s been in five All-Ireland finals, is heading for a sixth, and he was in rare oul form when he came to speak with the media after finally toppling the fury that Clare brought to this semi-final.
Asked about the previous day when Galway floored Cork, he revealed that he took his two dogs for a walk along the boreens and lanes around Galbally.
“Left them at it,” he said.
“Because look, we had our day here today and they had their day there yesterday. You go home and you find out it’s over and the result and you move on and that’s it.”
Expending energy on two games inside 24 hours wouldn’t have been the prudent thing to do. That’s learning.
**
Ever felt a stadium shake?
The upper tier of Croke Park, at 5.34pm yesterday, shook. And I mean properly shook whereby you’d be sending someone who wears steel toe cap boots and hi-vis jacket to go rooting around the foundations to check for some altered states.
Limerick had pulled off a win drenched in guts. From the 14th minute, Clare led all the way to Aidan O’Connor’s goal that put Limerick ahead on 70 minutes.
Aidan O'Connor rifles his shot to the net. Ryan Byrne / INPHO
Ryan Byrne / INPHO / INPHO
Clare had another couple of half-chances. Peter Duggan even got a snapshot away at goal that dropped at Nickie Quaid’s feet. A bad step and he might have back-heeled to the net.
The final act was a sideline cut that Darragh Lohan didn’t actually get under, and the final whistle came as sweet mercy.
Soon after, Gearóid Hegarty was brought to the sideline by RTÉ’s Damian Lawlor to extract the adrenalin fuelled first observations.
This is not a moment for journalistic rigour or tactical jerkoffs. It’s just a matter of getting the combatant to emote. A tear would be good. An F-Bomb might be apologised for, but secretly they’d be delighted with the numbers and clicks it would do.
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“That is an unbelievable battle,” said Hegarty. “An unbelievable, unbelievable…what a game!”
He was right. After all, the St Patrick’s man won Man of the Match despite not having scored whatsoever. He dug it out. Puckout wizardry bedamned, Quaid was going long on top of Hegarty’s head every time in the second half.
Conor Cleary got caught for persistent fouling and was riding the donkey close to the tail. After getting booked, he fouled again. Hegarty added some performative outrage.
Referee Thomas Walsh could be seen to point to the sideline as he presumably gave the universal sign for one more chance. Cian Galvin was sent in immediately but Hegarty’s dominance never waned.
Gearóid Hegarty. Ryan Byrne / INPHO
Ryan Byrne / INPHO / INPHO
With a bit of a lead built, it was as if Clare just decided to foul him every time and force Limerick to shoot frees from tight angles.
It wasn’t foolery either. Diarmuid Byrnes knocked a couple wide and the frees themselves were taking time.
With all respect to the 2024 crew, there was a ferociousness to this display that belonged in a Loughnane era. There was so much to admire about their effort.
But here’s the bottom line.
You wouldn’t want to get carried away with all this stuff either. When all the blood pressure drops the sober analysis can begin. After going in at half-time five points up, they scored 1-3 in the second half.
Two frees from Mark Rodgers. A score from play by Tony Kelly. A penalty that Tony Kelly nailed.
At the time, it felt like the game was decided in that moment. In Clare’s favour. But there was something else that Clare needed out of the moment.
Let’s break down the anatomy of the penalty. A bit of ground hurling – there were plenty of examples of this kind of Ruaile Bualie breaking out as it happens – allowed Mark Rodgers the ball in hand and that most precious commodity of time.
He floated an inviting ball towards Peter Duggan, stationed close to the Limerick goal with Dan Morrissey for company. Duggan’s strength shrugged Morrissey to the turf, and he was in splendid isolation against Limerick’s 37-year-old goalkeeper Nickie Quaid who, by now you’d have to say, has nothing to learn.
Penalty for Clare and no black card for Nickie Quaid
Tony Kelly dispatches his finish in what could be a pivotal moment in the game
Duggan produced an audacious scoop over the head of Quaid. The Effin man knew that momentum meant Duggan had the ball in the net, and so he lunged at him.
He grabbed Duggan’s faceguard. The ball trickled towards the net and wouldn’t have made it only for Barry Nash accidentally knocking it in.
Referee Thomas Walsh took his time before throwing his arms out wide for a penalty. But he had housekeeping to do first.
Every Clare player, management and supporter felt that Quaid was sent off. With 15 minutes to go, this would have put a nail in the coffin.
But Walsh spoke to Quaid. As Quaid turned to amble towards his line before Walsh had produced a card, you knew it wasn’t going to be a black, or even red card.
He delivered a yellow card, leaving The Banner furious.
A black card can be awarded when the defending player denies a goal-scoring opportunity within 20 metres of the goal, or in the ‘D’. The punishment also includes a penalty.
The small print is a killer though. It states that the attacking player must be in possession of the ball at the time. Duggan wasn’t.
Is it debatable? Absolutely.
All the same, Rule 5.31 quotes a red card offence; To pull or take hold of a faceguard or any other part of an opponent’s helmet.
Duggan airborne after Quaid's challenge. Tom O’Hanlon / INPHO
Tom O’Hanlon / INPHO / INPHO
Complain all you want about it being a question of a black card, but that was a red. All. Day. Long.
Kiely’s view on it was… interesting. He grinned when asked his assessment.
“To be honest, I thought it was going to be a free out. That’s what I was expecting because I thought there was doubt,” he said.
“There was doubt about the penalty. And I think there was a doubt on the penalty from my own eye. But I haven’t seen it back.
“I don’t know. Maybe you’ll tell me a stonewall penalty?”
To which half a dozen replied, that yes, yes it was a stonewall penalty.
“Listen, you’ve got them cameras (in front of reporters in the press box). I’ve only got these two eyes and they’re getting old. So, look, that was my thinking, that they weren’t sure.”
You’d forgive him that one.
**
‘Do your job’ as a sporting cliché is fairly banal and inarguable.
But as an art form, we put it in the same bracket as The Great American Novel; it’s not dead yet.
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We are up for a remix. Something that brings it outside the Roy Keane context.
On 65 minutes, Cian Lynch was fouled. Diarmuid Byrnes put it over. Three in it, but no explosion of noise.
On the sideline, John Kiely begins waving his arms at the Limerick crowd in the Hogan Stand. The RTÉ camera picks him up, as he might have known and the image is beamed on the big screens.
John Kiely urges on the Limerick fans. Tom O’Hanlon / INPHO
Tom O’Hanlon / INPHO / INPHO
The Limerick fans go mental. The goal arrives soon after.
To ask the obvious question, why did he do it?
“Like, all that section behind me is all Limerick and they were so wrapped in the game, they forgot to do their job,” said Kiely.
“They switched off, and we needed them to do their job, like, you know, there’s 15,000 of them behind me. Like, you know, do your job, support the team and when I turned around they recognised that opportunity.
“And, of course, straight away there was a reaction, so I’ve got to, I’ve got to know when those moments come to me. No point in me going home saying, ‘the crowd were very quiet today, you know, what the hell was wrong with them?’
“They were engrossed, they were so engrossed, like, I’m sure you were in the game, enthralled with what was happening in front of our eyes, but you’ve got to be present in that moment and understand you have a job to do.
“You have something to do, you can contribute, and they had a massive contribution to us in that last seven or eight minutes because, not only had I eight defending our half of the pitch, I had another 15,000 of them holding them to account beside them and shouting on every block, every hook, every catch.
“And we needed them to do that and did a brilliant job on it, by the way, but they did need to wake up.”
We can retire the expression now. John Kiely, gas man. Limerick, the side that keep going until there is nothing whatsoever left to give.
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Limerick emerge from stadium-shaking day as Clare face regret over big call
AROUND THIS TIME eight years ago, John Kiely had just brought Limerick to the All-Ireland final by beating Cork in the semi.
He made his way into the Croke Park media room and decided to get his retaliation in first. If any attempts were made to contact his players, presumably to cadge an interview rather than ask for any spare tickets lying around, then he would, in his words, “Shut the whole thing down.”
The message was forceful. But also understandable too. Limerick hadn’t won an All-Ireland since 1973 and many sober hurling people felt that had put the cart before the horse in recent final failures of 2007 and 1994.
But with years comes wisdom. Kiely understands life examined backwards, but he could only live it forwards. He’s been in five All-Ireland finals, is heading for a sixth, and he was in rare oul form when he came to speak with the media after finally toppling the fury that Clare brought to this semi-final.
Asked about the previous day when Galway floored Cork, he revealed that he took his two dogs for a walk along the boreens and lanes around Galbally.
“Left them at it,” he said.
“Because look, we had our day here today and they had their day there yesterday. You go home and you find out it’s over and the result and you move on and that’s it.”
Expending energy on two games inside 24 hours wouldn’t have been the prudent thing to do. That’s learning.
**
Ever felt a stadium shake?
The upper tier of Croke Park, at 5.34pm yesterday, shook. And I mean properly shook whereby you’d be sending someone who wears steel toe cap boots and hi-vis jacket to go rooting around the foundations to check for some altered states.
Limerick had pulled off a win drenched in guts. From the 14th minute, Clare led all the way to Aidan O’Connor’s goal that put Limerick ahead on 70 minutes.
Clare had another couple of half-chances. Peter Duggan even got a snapshot away at goal that dropped at Nickie Quaid’s feet. A bad step and he might have back-heeled to the net.
The final act was a sideline cut that Darragh Lohan didn’t actually get under, and the final whistle came as sweet mercy.
Soon after, Gearóid Hegarty was brought to the sideline by RTÉ’s Damian Lawlor to extract the adrenalin fuelled first observations.
This is not a moment for journalistic rigour or tactical jerkoffs. It’s just a matter of getting the combatant to emote. A tear would be good. An F-Bomb might be apologised for, but secretly they’d be delighted with the numbers and clicks it would do.
“That is an unbelievable battle,” said Hegarty. “An unbelievable, unbelievable…what a game!”
He was right. After all, the St Patrick’s man won Man of the Match despite not having scored whatsoever. He dug it out. Puckout wizardry bedamned, Quaid was going long on top of Hegarty’s head every time in the second half.
Conor Cleary got caught for persistent fouling and was riding the donkey close to the tail. After getting booked, he fouled again. Hegarty added some performative outrage.
Referee Thomas Walsh could be seen to point to the sideline as he presumably gave the universal sign for one more chance. Cian Galvin was sent in immediately but Hegarty’s dominance never waned.
With a bit of a lead built, it was as if Clare just decided to foul him every time and force Limerick to shoot frees from tight angles.
It wasn’t foolery either. Diarmuid Byrnes knocked a couple wide and the frees themselves were taking time.
With all respect to the 2024 crew, there was a ferociousness to this display that belonged in a Loughnane era. There was so much to admire about their effort.
But here’s the bottom line.
You wouldn’t want to get carried away with all this stuff either. When all the blood pressure drops the sober analysis can begin. After going in at half-time five points up, they scored 1-3 in the second half.
Two frees from Mark Rodgers. A score from play by Tony Kelly. A penalty that Tony Kelly nailed.
At the time, it felt like the game was decided in that moment. In Clare’s favour. But there was something else that Clare needed out of the moment.
Let’s break down the anatomy of the penalty. A bit of ground hurling – there were plenty of examples of this kind of Ruaile Bualie breaking out as it happens – allowed Mark Rodgers the ball in hand and that most precious commodity of time.
He floated an inviting ball towards Peter Duggan, stationed close to the Limerick goal with Dan Morrissey for company. Duggan’s strength shrugged Morrissey to the turf, and he was in splendid isolation against Limerick’s 37-year-old goalkeeper Nickie Quaid who, by now you’d have to say, has nothing to learn.
Duggan produced an audacious scoop over the head of Quaid. The Effin man knew that momentum meant Duggan had the ball in the net, and so he lunged at him.
He grabbed Duggan’s faceguard. The ball trickled towards the net and wouldn’t have made it only for Barry Nash accidentally knocking it in.
Referee Thomas Walsh took his time before throwing his arms out wide for a penalty. But he had housekeeping to do first.
Every Clare player, management and supporter felt that Quaid was sent off. With 15 minutes to go, this would have put a nail in the coffin.
But Walsh spoke to Quaid. As Quaid turned to amble towards his line before Walsh had produced a card, you knew it wasn’t going to be a black, or even red card.
He delivered a yellow card, leaving The Banner furious.
A black card can be awarded when the defending player denies a goal-scoring opportunity within 20 metres of the goal, or in the ‘D’. The punishment also includes a penalty.
The small print is a killer though. It states that the attacking player must be in possession of the ball at the time. Duggan wasn’t.
Is it debatable? Absolutely.
All the same, Rule 5.31 quotes a red card offence; To pull or take hold of a faceguard or any other part of an opponent’s helmet.
Complain all you want about it being a question of a black card, but that was a red. All. Day. Long.
Kiely’s view on it was… interesting. He grinned when asked his assessment.
“To be honest, I thought it was going to be a free out. That’s what I was expecting because I thought there was doubt,” he said.
“There was doubt about the penalty. And I think there was a doubt on the penalty from my own eye. But I haven’t seen it back.
“I don’t know. Maybe you’ll tell me a stonewall penalty?”
To which half a dozen replied, that yes, yes it was a stonewall penalty.
“Listen, you’ve got them cameras (in front of reporters in the press box). I’ve only got these two eyes and they’re getting old. So, look, that was my thinking, that they weren’t sure.”
You’d forgive him that one.
**
‘Do your job’ as a sporting cliché is fairly banal and inarguable.
But as an art form, we put it in the same bracket as The Great American Novel; it’s not dead yet.
We are up for a remix. Something that brings it outside the Roy Keane context.
On 65 minutes, Cian Lynch was fouled. Diarmuid Byrnes put it over. Three in it, but no explosion of noise.
On the sideline, John Kiely begins waving his arms at the Limerick crowd in the Hogan Stand. The RTÉ camera picks him up, as he might have known and the image is beamed on the big screens.
The Limerick fans go mental. The goal arrives soon after.
To ask the obvious question, why did he do it?
“Like, all that section behind me is all Limerick and they were so wrapped in the game, they forgot to do their job,” said Kiely.
“They switched off, and we needed them to do their job, like, you know, there’s 15,000 of them behind me. Like, you know, do your job, support the team and when I turned around they recognised that opportunity.
“And, of course, straight away there was a reaction, so I’ve got to, I’ve got to know when those moments come to me. No point in me going home saying, ‘the crowd were very quiet today, you know, what the hell was wrong with them?’
“They were engrossed, they were so engrossed, like, I’m sure you were in the game, enthralled with what was happening in front of our eyes, but you’ve got to be present in that moment and understand you have a job to do.
“You have something to do, you can contribute, and they had a massive contribution to us in that last seven or eight minutes because, not only had I eight defending our half of the pitch, I had another 15,000 of them holding them to account beside them and shouting on every block, every hook, every catch.
“And we needed them to do that and did a brilliant job on it, by the way, but they did need to wake up.”
We can retire the expression now. John Kiely, gas man. Limerick, the side that keep going until there is nothing whatsoever left to give.
**
Check out the latest episode of The 42′s GAA Weekly podcast here
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