The stuff of champions
In the wake of Limerick’s quarter-final victory over Kilkenny, John Kiely said something that I’ve never heard any manager in any sport ever say.
Discussing the impact of Richie Hogan’s late goal, which put Kilkenny ahead by two points with just minutes remaining, Kiely said: “We were prepared for it. Nothing changed, we were prepared for that, we knew it was going to happen, and when you know something is going to happen you’re prepared for it.”
It was a remarkable admission. To suggest to your players that you may concede a goal in the dying minutes is, some would argue, counter-productive, to put it mildly. But, as proved to be the case, by addressing the thing his players feared most, Kiely removed much of that fear, and ensured that when the time came, when that goal was scored, Limerick knew how to respond.
With less ten minutes to go last Sunday, and Limerick trailing Cork by six points, one couldn’t help but wonder if Kiely hadn’t prepared his team for this scenario as well.
Because, while all around them people lost their heads, while spectators, coaches and Corkonians remained fixated on the scoreboard, on the clock, on the prospect of a place in the All-Ireland, the Limerick players just went about their business, whittling away that lead, narrowing that gap, edging closer and closer, and doing so with a calmness, an assuredness, that belied their years.
The glory and the jubilation came in extra-time, the goals, the victory, the relief.
But it was in the closing minutes of normal time that this Limerick side showed what they are all about. While many, myself included, were drafting epitaphs, consoling words, reasons to be cheerful, they stuck to their task. Most impressive though, was how they went about it. There were no hopeful pucks upfield, no auxiliary centre-forwards, no desperate goal-mouth scrambles as panic began to set in.
No, they simply did what they’d been doing since the first whistle; they followed the game plan, and waited for the inevitable to occur.
Yes, the substitutions were telling. But even they seemed part of the plan. As if it had all been mapped out in advance, as if Kiely and his staff had decided beforehand that Shane Dowling would come on and obliterate Cork’s back-line at, hmm, say around the 59th minute? And that Pat Ryan would add the finishing touch once Limerick hit the front and needed someone to exploit the gaps in behind.
These things don’t happen by accident, and, once more, it points to a management team who are covering each and every base in the pursuit of victory, who understand that games of this stature are decided by the smallest of margins and that attention to detail separates winners from also-rans.
But the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. And for all Limerick’s sports’ psychologists, forethought and insight, preparation and planning, it still comes down to fifteen men over seventy minutes.
What men they are, even if some of them, in fact most of them, still seem like boys. Just one of those who started last Sunday’s game was in his thirties, Mike Casey the elder statesman having turned 30 in January. Casey aside, you have Nickie Quaid (29) and Graeme Mulcahy (28) who could, at a push, be touted as wise old heads who’ve been there, done that.
The venerable Seamus Hickey came on late in the game to help see things out, but this was a triumph of youth.
Rarely has a team so lacking in years been so abundant in maturity, extensive underage rigours providing the experience to go with their boundless energy and strength. However, as Kiely, Dowling, and many others have been quick to point out, it’s not over yet. A hurdle has been overcome, a rather difficult one, but it and all that came before it, will be for nought if the job isn’t done to completion.
You’re in the unique position of being able to sit back and watch Sunday’s replay with your feet up, of being able to assess the merits of prospective opponents and ponder upon which you’d prefer in the final.
I’m sure John Kiely will be watching too. But unlike you, he won’t have his feet up, he’ll have his notebook out, furiously scribbling down notes, carefully plotting the route to what he hopes will be an historic victory on August 19.
