[SIZE=6]Pupils give masters a lesson[/SIZE]
August 12th, 2000
PLAINTS and lamentations about these players and those selectors will -not cease in Cork for some time yet.
And why should they? But, aside from -all persons and perpetrators, the grievous fact of Cork’s 16 wides to Offaly’s five should remain very central indeed to reflection on that match. Offaly were better — not quite immeasurably better, just three times as good! — at one of hurling’s profoundest fundamentals: making the ball go where you want it to go.
If Cork’s plague of wides were a once-off, such as befell the great Tipp forward line in the 1963 Munster final, the malignity of fate could be submitted to, and attention turned to discomfiting the GPA and those nabobs in Corporate Park whose doings gave the GPA its spurious pretexts for its pestilential existence. But inordinate numbers of wides have been as predictable a part of this Cork side’s performances as they were of those of Clare. And just as ineluctably bound to catch up.
After the triple semi-final of 1998, your correspondent opined in print that five pucks by Offaly were worth seven by Clare: Offaly could come somewhere near to Michael Keating’s ideal of having “a message in every ball”; the Banner, what with slices and desperation and opacity of purpose and, of course, wides, could not. Last Sunday, it looked even starker: one possession for Offaly seemed to be worth two for Cork. Here we think of “possession” in the traditional and correct sense of actually arriving first to the ball or of having the first option at the ball when it shoots out of broken or confused play, as well as in the modern, exclusive — and pernicious — sense of having the ball in hand.
By dint of youthful pace and chasing and hunger Cork had much more possession, more opportunities to use the ball, than Offaly. The figures of 31 crossings of the end line to 24, plus Cork’s seemingly infinite time and sweat expended in confusion and futility in front of the Offaly posts, plus more gridlock in midfield, probably support our estimate-that Cork had near enough twice as many opportunities to use the ball. So, Offaly can play hurling wisely and economically; Cork cannot.
Why? Because for more than a little while now, especially but not exclusively up front, Cork have been sliding, declining, into the soloing and handpassing methodology — the Cyril Farrell system. That thing is a truncation and a desecration — as who should ordain that Mozart be played with bodhrans and tin whistles, and all the soaring and transcendent expressions and potentialities be discarded.
Solo running is, in its place, a legitimate and pleasing skill, as Pat Delaney and Christy Ring and Tom Cheasty demonstrated to the satisfaction and delectation of millions.Last Sunday, Offaly’s solos were few, brief and to the point. Cork’s soloists were many and inexpert; and three of them, O’Connor and McCarthy and McGrath, seemed intent upon outdoing the great shitehawk of legend who, as you gentle and erudite reader well remember, flew and flew about in circles until he disappeared up his own fundament.
Again and again, Offaly hit the sliotar first time off the ground with stunning virtuosity — and profit. Cork did, 'tis true, essay the ground stroke but, sadly, apart from Alan Browne’s glorious effort which led to a point, neither frequently nor skilfully enough. Indeed, Seanie McGrath had a chance of a goal with a ground stroke, but because the requisite, instinctive, adjustment of his feet didn’t occur to him, who has more dazzling footwork than Gene Kelly in most other ways, Seanie. lifted and handled and lost.
Two months since, Joe Deane scored a tap-in against Limerick and his deed was’ greeted with global and orgasmic alleluias. That is a measure of how far standards — and expectations — have fallen: Joe, standing all unmarked on the edge of the square, scored a goal with the most elementary of overhead strokes, and the world went loopy. In 1954, Johnny Clifford, with John Doyle on him, scored a point from an angle 40 yards out, with a left-handed overhead stroke; two years earlier, against Tony Brennan, a master of overhead counter-play (i.e. spoiling), Liam Dowling scored two points with overhead strokes; in '61 against Waterford, Ring scored a fulminating overhead goal and another first time off the ground — and, quite as much as either of those gaisci, valued his third, in which he had to apply his elbows and backside to defenders in order to scramble the ball over the line. Time out of number, in his midfield days, Justin McCarthy, finding himself unmarked or loosely marked, still rejected handling and simply — but how sweetly! — doubled the high ball onward.
That is the background — or, rather, a tiny taste of it — to Joe’s tap-in. Yet, in scores of chats and arguments over the past five days, the problem of the failure of Cork’s forwards to let fly on at least some of that plethora of high balls remained curiously distant from the minds of all critics — bar the present one. Kevin Murray did make a couple of one-handed waves at the ball — feeble and perfunctory to the point of embarrassment.
So, it seems, Cork are incapable of playing hurling the Cork way — or, niore likely, they are no longer taught or encouraged to do so. While Offaly continue to win matches because, many years ago, a Corkman, Brother Denis, went amongst them and taught and cajoled generations of their youth to hurl the Cork way. 'Tis a quare ironic twist — and enjoyable if you’re from Offaly.
It is not just Brother Denis: when John Ryan first appeared in championship hurling he looked raw and clumsy; last Sunday, his point, and a few lesser deeds, provided evidence that someone had been applying generous measures of polish to him in the interim. Whereas, on.the Cork side, McCarthy and McCormack look as if they’ve not received a lick of a shammy since the day they were called up. Yet amongst Cork’s mentors are men who could make a ball talk and a hurley sing. Curiouser . . .
Perhaps, it is to do with emphasis. Nowadays, every other sentence we hear from coaches, especially concerning forwards, is about the imperative of “getting them to believe in themselves.” If that is what Nicholas English and Jimmy Barry Murphy are trying to do, they are promoting the most abominable heresy, and interviews with Senor Torquemada are called for. What the ladeens who ruined the Summer for JBM and English require is to have their wee minds most ruthlessly disassembled, all fads and obsessions and enslavements excised, and awareness of the full range of hurling’s skills and splendours engraved — with a blow torch. Generous helpings of legitimate aggression should be installed during this overhaul.
As for details: we know how that Brian Corcoran’s mind was on lower things; Pat Ryan as a free-taker was never other than unreliable; a few years ago, Corcoran was being brought up from corner-back to hit the midfield frees, now, when he’s positioned 40 yards nearer to them, he’s not wanted. And, did it occur to anyone to send him, Corcoran, up amongst the forwards?
Derek Barrett jumped into Sean O’ hAilpin and conceded a point; Diarmuid O’Sullivan did likewise with Corcoran; Pat Ryan and Alan Browne collided and injured each other. Bro Denis must have sighed, or scowled.
