1. And so, the spirits raced through Croke Park last Sunday when Galway and Kerry pushed one another to the edge. Those few seconds of anticipation and the surge of uncontainable crowd noise before the throw-in were as good as it gets. But then, on the road up that morning, a man had decorated his tractor in the Galway colours, parked on an overpass not far from Moate and, with his children, saluted the passing cars on their way up to the city. It was a lovely, simple gesture and as much a part of the occasion, the day, as the noontime gatherings around Dorset Street. It was a reminder that Ireland is still a land of eccentricities and all the better for it.

There remains something extraordinary about the depth and solemnity of effort behind elite Gaelic games for what will remain, for the vast majority of players, an unrealised idea. Few will get to play in an All-Ireland final, fewer still win it.

But what a glorious distraction. Isn’t that the point? Isn’t the joy of being transported to a place where you feel fully alive and temporarily shorn of the inevitable day-to-day worries and concerns. It doesn’t have to be the fancy stuff or the big days. And it doesn’t even have to involve winning. The game keeps changing and yet the game will always be the same.

Twenty years later, Keith Duggan writes his final Sideline Cut column for The Irish Times. (€)

2. The statement announcing Brian Cody’s retirement as Kilkenny manager was a third-party affair, but it was true to him. There were none of the pasteurised quotes or saccharine sentiments that often accompany these announcements, and would be poison to Cody. His wins were listed, marshalled into the most glittering summary in the history of Irish sport: 11 All-Irelands, 18 Leinster championships, 10 National Leagues. The numbers have a statuesque quality now, lined up as the final tally.

In the next sentence it said that Cody, 68, had “created an unbreakable spirit among his players”. It is a simple thing to say, and in the context of another manager it might come across as a hollow platitude, but it was the foundation of everything Cody understood about hurling and winning.

Everything Kilkenny achieved under Cody radiated from that burning core. In some respects it was a simple transaction: he insisted that they give every ounce to the fight and, for fear of their lives, they dared not refuse. He never lost that elemental power to demand and receive.

To continue a trend…Denis Walsh’s final piece for The Sunday Times is, perhaps fittingly, a farewell to Brian Cody. (€)

3. A great All Ireland final? Not quite. At the risk of getting all Eamon Dunphy on it, it wasn’t a showpiece straight outta Valhalla — the first half was way too one-sided, regardless of what the scoreboard said at the interval — but it can certainly be placed in the front rank of the very good ones. Full value for money, all kinds of fun, the issue in doubt till the last whistle and something for everyone in the audience.

Yet this much has to be said: the Munster final was more satisfying because its scores were harder earned, chiselled out of wind and rain and rock. The sight of all six half-backs finding the target from play last Sunday week was to be mourned rather than celebrated. At the risk of once more saddling up a familiar hobbyhorse, scoring should not come that handily.

The Clare jubilee outfit feted beforehand beat Tipperary 25 years ago with 0-20. Limerick had equalled Clare’s total by half-time. Wexford, also feted, won in 1996 with 1-13. Sounds laughable from this remove, huh?

The hurling of 2022 is so much better on so many levels than the hurling of 1997, most of all in terms of precise high-speed execution of the skills. This does not render it commensurately more compelling.

Enda McEvoy reviews the 2022 hurling year for the Irish Examiner. 

4. The tale also touches on the issues that would plague Aiden throughout his career. He was a bright, intelligent lad, secure in his opinions, which often rubbed people up the wrong way. And he was so outrageously gifted that there was more interest in his potential than there was in his progress. Two decades later, as he gears up for a season at Hibs, they are still asking if he has fulfilled it. 

When McGeady discovered football at the age of eight, John realised that he had something special on his hands, encouraged his son to practise with both feet and soon found him attracting interest from all over the UK. His natural ability was such that there were regular training sessions at Arsenal and frequent calls from Sir Alex Ferguson, but the lad who spent his early teens with Queen’s Park opted for Celtic.

They saw immediately that there was magic in his feet. He was bold, imaginative and full of tricks. “He could do things with a ball that I’d never really come across,” said McInally, who was among the many humiliated in training by his one-on-one manoeuvres. One Celtic kid was so angry at repeatedly falling victim that he kicked out at McGeady and had to be sent home.

Paul Forsyth reviews Aiden McGeady’s career for the Times. (€)

5. “That’s nearly 150 kids and men from here playing football. We’re trying to give them a choice around the area,” says Keogh.

“It’s helped an awful lot of people, from players, coaches, committee members and supporters – if Oliver Bond Celtic wasn’t here, what would we be doing?

“It’s helped me mentally. It’s given me something to focus on. It gives everyone in the flats an option that we mightn’t have had before.

“It’s just a pity that we’re not being backed by a bigger entity outside of the local businesses.

“In five or six years without being backed, we’ve gone from the lowest league to playing Derry City. Could you imagine what we could do if we were backed?”

And Keogh continues: “It’s everything. It’s my life. To be from Oliver Bond, and see where Oliver Bond Celtic has brought the name, from being negative to positive, I’m proud.

“Some people look at it as a negative place to live and be brought up. We’ve had bad headlines in the past. But it couldn’t be more the opposite.

“It’s a good place to live. There are a lot of good people. We’ve been down on our luck as a club, but our people stand up and help us time after time.

“That’s why it’s working. They help us, and we as a team give it back to the people with big days out – like this one.

“But when you see 50 to 60 kids running around the flats in Oliver Bond kits, that’s what really makes it worth it.”

Ahead of their FAI Cup tie with Derry City, Paul O’Hehir of the Irish Mirror profiled Oliver Bond Celtic. 

6. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for Pamela Hayden to wake-up in pain during the night when she got her period. On one Sunday night in January last year, however, the agony was worse than usual. The following morning, she went to make toast before taking any more painkillers but she collapsed in the kitchen. Her husband, John, caught her before she hit the floor and she was later taken by ambulance to St Luke’s General Hospital, Kilkenny.

A few days previously, Hayden had trained with the Old Leighlin football club in Carlow. She was 40, feeling fit and flying it at training. She had applied to take part in TG4’s Underdogs series for women and after getting through the first screening, she went back training with the club to get fit for the trials.

Hayden’s talents as a Gaelic footballer had been spotted since her teens. She made her inter-county debut as a 15-year-old, she was named Carlow player of the year in 2004 and spent her college years on a football scholarship in Maynooth where she did a degree in science and a PhD in biochemistry. She stopped playing football with Carlow at the age of 27 for reasons she never openly discussed.

Pamela Hayden tells Sinead Kissane of the Irish Independent of her endometriosis diagnosis. (€)