by Joe Ó Muircheartaigh
TIME stands still.
How could it not, because after the game of the ages and the game that came straight from the Gods, it was time to draw some breath.
The floodlights are on and in the gathering dusk the GAA has never, ever known a night like it and might never know another like it.
Saffron and blue streamers and ticker tapes are released in the air; there’s mayhem in the spontaneous celebration, but a serenity at the same time that’s spiritual.
Maybe this is what the other side is like.
This is the day the music became alive again, or as Davy Fitz would later say, the day the recession in Clare was banished “to hell”.
Heaven can do this sort of thing.
It’s in the songs: My Lovely Rose of Clare, Spancilhill and all that; it’s in the Clare Shouts; it's in the looks on people’s faces; smiles that in the mind’s eye will last forever and a day.
It’s Dráiocht na Linne – the magic of our time. It’s Mol an lá um thráthnóna – celebrate the day come evening time.
And how they’re celebrating. The giant of a hurler who is Padraic ‘Podge’ Collins is doing a fair good impression of the famous walk patented by John Cleese and Monty Python Inc.
And for something completely difference, Davy Fitz is on his knees. In praise of God and hurling at the same time. Then he’s up on his feet, sprinting. It’s like the dash he made in Thurles after that penalty goal that changed the course of hurling history.
Davy et al have reached another turn in the road and changed their lives forever.
Who’s Davy after in that frantic dash. Shane O’Donnell maybe. He’s just standing there for a few seconds. On his own, out on his own, from lad to legend in 70 storied minutes.
He’s Shane O’Donnell no more; he’s ‘Three Goals and Three Points’ instead.
He’s standing there starry-eyed. Then he’s sitting on the sod with Darach Honan by his side. Job done. All-Ireland won. Now for the rest of their lives. The second chapter.
It’s welcome to a new world.
It’s Clare Island, where spirits are lifted and where a county is defined by the common good, nay the greatness of its hurling team.
The team that has everyone in its thrall – to a man, woman and child, of all nationalities and all cultures who call Clare home – and going in the same direction.
“We love our traditional music,” said Anthony Daly in ’95, well just to prove the point Doc Quinn, who’s been medic to Clare teams going back a quarter of a century, produces a button accordion in the dressing room and Brendan Bugler plays a tune with team and county in harmony with every last note.
“They’re precious moments,” says Under 21 joint-manager Dónal Moloney. “Precious, precious moments that will be with them for the rest of their lives,” he adds.
Because this is the greatest day of their lives, the day that has changed their lives forever.
In the stories that will be told and re-told, in the songs to be sung and words to be written.
In the sheer poetry of the day in that game of the ages that came on a direct line from God.
“Up the Flaggy Shore 2013, An Clár Abú,” says Jimmy Collins’ banner in homage to hurling and Seamus Heaney at the same time.
It captures the spirit of the moment, just as ‘Seeyas all in Coppers’ does in its own way as well.
It’s poetry. It’s party time.
It’s lá dar saol.
And it’s only just beginning. And we never want it to end.
