Declan Bogue

WE SHALL COME to Ballygunner in a moment. But first, some armchair moralising over Loughrea.

Given the team has to be submitted by midweek at the very latest for the benefit of printing the matchday programme, Loughrea set their stall out. At number 9, as always, perhaps for the big bite of two decades, Cullen Killeen.

Red card and suspension and failed appeals bedamned, they would find a way for one of their treasured sons to get onto the starting grid.

It would be hard pushed to find any neutral to begrudge the ultimate result; that Killeen and Loughrea found a way through the Disputes Resolution Authority to clear him for the final.

That they did so through an argument around wording raised all eyebrows of those with the nerdish qualities necessary to research the findings. No matter. A teenager gets to play in the biggest day of his life and the life of the parish.

Nobody is particularly offended. Very few are surprised. Those that follow these things closely roll their eyes and move on.

What kind of monster wants that sort of charge to stick? Not this one.

On the day, Killeen was not a major factor in the game.

Manager Tommy Kelly was pressed on if it became a factor in their build-up.

“I was delighted he got to play today, but I think the kid was tired today as well,” he said.

“He looked tired there in the second half, and I think it probably took an awful lot out of him. But he’s a super, super guy, his attitude was just fantastic, and I couldn’t speak any higher of Cullen or any of the Killeens.”

It’s customary shorthand to believe that the controversy around the player could become a factor in distracting their focus.

That’s not how the modern, elite teams operate. In training, he played away as normal, as if it were certain he would play.

Behind the scenes, contingency plans were in place for his exclusion.

Within closed walls, their mindset coach, Michelle Caulfield, framed it for the players, for Cullen and the wider group.

As to whether he would play or not, proved immaterial when he was up against a midfield like Conor Sheahan and Paddy Leavey.

Ballygunner’s balance, their authority and their execution of the skills would rival many county teams. There is an argument to make that they enjoy higher levels of telepathy from Stephen O’Keefe to his midfield and half-forward lines than the vast majority of county teams.

Stephen O'Keefe with son Fionn. Tom Maher / INPHO Tom Maher / INPHO / INPHO

In among their peers, they can access a higher gear. But this year that came about particularly in second halves. The reason for this is not only in their incredible levels of conditioning, but the way they make that work for them.

When in possession, the most remarkable thing about them is the angles they run in support. It’s highly thought-out and rehearsed.

The main aim is to find an angle where they will not be running into traffic. Receiving the ball and immediately having to ride a tackle depletes a player like an energy bar for a beat ‘em up video game.

You won’t see it in the first half or even in the third quarter. But it arrives, and everything that you had been doing well, turns to shit.

Take the 56^th minute. Ballygunner sent in a dropping ball towards the corner of the Hill 16 end and Hogan Stand. Standing under it was Loughrea full-back Johnny Coen and Ballygunner full-forward Kevin Mahony.

Coen knew where Mahony was. He knew that he could poke his hurley in front and there was a risk of the ball skiting goalwards. So Coen lifted his hurley and swung it behind him.

Now, this is the bit I have a problem with. The hurley did not strike Mahony. It was high and wide. And it is a legitimate manoeuvre in hurling, to block off your opponent’s hurl.

It looks to some, more than reckless. Yet it wasn’t a foul. Nonetheless a free was given that Pauric Mahony converted.

The thing is, if that was the first half, the chances are that Johnny Coen would not have tried such a move, and perhaps tried to bat the ball in front of him.

What it does demonstrate however, is how playing a side like Ballygunner wears you down eventually. And you start looking for shortcuts.

It wasn’t even just in the second half. On 19 minutes there was a sequence of play when the hassling of Ballygunner by Loughrea was off the charts. Players were being chased down, hits were going in and turnovers were achieved. That ended with a wide from Caimin Killeen. 

Straight after, from the O’Keefe puckout, Patrick Fitzgerald had the ball over the Loughrea crossbar. The difference in economy was striking. 

As much as there is to be impressed about Ballygunner, this was another drab enough club hurling final. There’s been quite a few of them over the past two decades, lit up by maybe an incredible closing score, such as Éanna Burke’s for St Thomas’, or Harry Ruddle for Ballygunner in their first All Ireland triumph over Shamrocks Ballyhale.

The roll of honour shows the rise of the superclubs now. In the last twenty years, Clarinbridge, Loughgiel, Na Fianna and Na Piarsaigh have captured one each.

Ballygunner now join St Thomas’ and Cuala on two. Market leaders are Portumna on four, and Shamrocks Ballyhale on a whopping six.

To win an All Ireland now, you have to be on the road a long, long time, have serious backing, and no distractions.

The notion of fairytales is disappearing from club hurling, at a time when Dingle have made the fire that burns the club football championship, into an inferno.