The 16th Man

Cork trailed Dublin like a greyhound chasing a hare upon the wire for almost the entirety of the game but like the measles, proved to be most dangerous toward the end. Dublin will reflect that it was their inexperience while straddling the lines of discipline that cost them, but credit must be given to Cork, who despite failing to ignite explosively yet again in this year’s championship, showed immense mental strength and composure to strangle the lead out of Dublin’s grasp in the dying minutes.

Bernard Brogan gave Dublin a dream lead after only one minute of play after inexplicable loose marking left the Oliver Plunketts man time and space to fire home a well-crafted goal that scythed right at the roots of Cork’s early ambition to dominate. It is hard to think of a greater individual performance in this year’s championship. Brogan was absolute throughout, scoring effortlessly. While Eoghan O’Gara was held in solitary confinement, Brogan excelled in his detachment and his unbridled power contributed 1-7 to Dublin’s failed dream.

Defence and counter attack was Dublin’s weapon of choice and with Brogan at the fore they skilfully executed their game plan leading at the half time break by four points, 1-8 to 0-7. Cork despite having mountains of possession, were lacking creativity especially with the stationary full forward line of O’Connor, Sheehan and Goulding. With Pearse O’Neill being muzzled by Brennan, it was the likes of Kerrigan and Kelly’s laborious running that kept Cork in tow.

After a first half of aimless play and sinful wides from Cork, it was Dublin’s rash and cynical tackling that was to define the second half. Dublin’s defensive lines morphed quickly from a demilitarised zone into a wild and hectic battlefield. Amid the subtle beauty of Brogan’s folklorist eloquence in the forward line, Cork were beginning to awaken from their long lull.

Certainly no friends of flowing football on the day, the Rebels patient composure began to exhaust and eventually expose Dublin’s indignities. It was twelve minutes before they registered a score in the second half, but Cork’s illiterate play was finally beginning to spell trouble for Dublin and in the fifty fifth minute of the ferocious climax, Ross McConnell pulled the lynchpin and Dublin imploded.

Nicholas Murphy’s very presence in the area caused frenzied panic and McConnell saw red goring Colm O’Neill bull-like to the soil as if he were an untrained matador. O’Connor scuffed the resulting penalty in off the post but Dublin responded with points from Brogan and Cullen to re-extend a three point lead and pile further psychological pressure on the Rebels.

Youthful inexperience shadowed Dublin now, who began champing at the bit as the scent of the canvas lingered under the August sun. They became unsaddled as their players indiscipline turned to rapacity. McConnell finally saw red after a purple patch of reckless hitting and the Rebels dutifully acted upon exposed vulnerability. Cork, brittle in the past, finally portrayed traits of a natural killer and from the placed kicking of Donnacha O’Connor (who displayed superb mental strength) finally dislodged Dublin in the seventieth minute.

Cork have finally become enlightened in human autonomy and severed an opponent’s jugular. Once again Cork’s ability to rely on a string bench paid dividends with Cadogan, Murphy, O’Neill and Kavanagh all helping turn the screws when introduced. It was a seventy minutes of attrition unparalleled to anything we have seen in Croke Park this summer. Dublin played with such a high intensity that they were left lifeless when Cork cast out their lines to reel them in. If Dublin had prevailed, in essence the Rebels would have been mowed down by one man – Bernard Brogan.  Cork’s alchemy remains far from perfection but they keep winning, a fact that Kildare or Down must well document.

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