The Deise await. Following a far from easy win over Limerick, Waterford await the winners of this weekend’s Munster semi-final. Last time Tipperary met Clare in the Munster championship, they just about saw off the Banner men’s late revival to go forward into the Munster final… against none other than Waterford. Thus the omens are good if this weekend goes off without a hitch.

                Indeed, the omens are great if you consider Clare’s woeful record in the Munster Senior Championship in the past decade or so. Since the turn of the millennium, Clare have won the grand total of three games in the Provincial championship. While Tipperary have graced most the Munster finals in the majority of the last ten years, Clare have competed in the provincial decider just once in that time-frame. The year was 2008, and their opponents and victors on the day were none other than Tipperary.

                Two years ago, Tipperary brushed the Banner aside by eight points in the Munster quarter final, and this was the last meeting of the sides in senior hurling. All the signs point to another Tipperary victory this weekend.

                However, a degree of caution is advisable as recent history will show that Tipperary do not respond well to having the overwhelming favourites tag cast around their neck. The Cork match of 2010 should be evidence enough of that. Added to this is the unavoidable fact that Clare are the All Ireland U-21 champions, defeating Kilkenny last year to claim the crown. The addition of some of these players, accustomed to success, should serve to give Clare an added impetus going into the semi-final this weekend.

                Nevertheless, if Tipperary display the form that they did against Cork, then it should be they who face Waterford in the provincial decider on the hallowed turf of Semple Stadium on the 10^th of July. Ten years on, maybe this Tipperary team will do what the 2001 team did and win both the Munster Championship and the All Ireland. Time will tell. A win on Sunday is imperative however.

Years spent honing your craft, playing at small venues in the hope that it’ll lead to something bigger, in the hope that it will one day lead to you walking out on the biggest stage of all, with no sounds reaching your ears save the cheers of the crowd and your own heart pounding in your chest.

                On a weekend where Kings of Leon rocked Slane and the Kings of hurling got their championship underway, its easy to see similarities between musicians and GAA players. The dream of playing to a packed out crowd in the biggest of venues is always there be it Croke Park or Slane, and this sustains the athlete and the musician through years of oft-times thankless effort. The most loyal of supporters will always buy your cds or turn up for a junior match on a bitingly cold evening. But here is where the similarities end, however, because even the craziest of rockstars would shy away from marking Patrick Maher.

                In an impressively high-scoring game of hurling for a championship game in May, Tipperary ultimately pulled clear of Cork to banish the demons of last years Pairc Ui Caoimh humiliation. It was an all-round positive beginning to the campaign, as performances were solid across the board. . A sometimes frustrating Seamus Callanan, frustrating in the sense that he sometimes doesn’t display his undoubted talent, ran the Cork backs ragged all day yesterday, and left Semple Stadium with a well deserved and well-taken five points.

                 Indeed all the forwards were in sparkling form, with Eoin Kelly scoring a goal reminiscent of his cracker against the same opposition in 2008, and Lar Corbett starting this championship campaign with the goal scoring touch which led to Liam McCarthy back in September. The contribution of these two veterans of the blue and gold cause, coupled with the workhorse ethic of Patrick Maher and the star quality of Noel McGrath at centre-half forward ensured that Tipperary always had that little extra firepower to subdue the Rebels, even when they found themselves being pegged back midway through the second half.

                On other days, allowing seven points to go unanswered would be a cause for grave concern and much debate within the Premier county, but on this occasion it is more likely that the talking point will be the good form of the forwards.

                I made the point last week about how the provincial championships are sacred, and I’m sure that the 31,230 people in Semple Stadium yesterday would agree. There’s nothing like a match in Thurles, and for the rest of the year you will be hard pushed to find a game where the scoring is as high and the finishing as exemplary.

                It was an encouraging start to the Premier’s championship campaign, and if the momentum can be carried forward then it could be a long summer which in turn could stretch into autumn. Its worth mentioning that 1965 was the last time Tipperary won back-to-back All Ireland titles. In the words of Barrack O’Bama; Is feidir linn.

Kilkenny will want vengeance, Dublin to create history. With all the talk of the two division one league finalists, the spotlight has been somewhat deflected from the build-up to the All-Ireland champion’s first game in this year’s Munster Championship.

                However next Sunday marks the beginning of a new chapter in the hurling season with the clash of Tipp and Cork in Semple Stadium. It must be borne in mind that Tipperary failed to win the league last year as well, but came good in the latter stages of the All Ireland championship. You can ask any Tipperary supporter, they would gladly swap a fistful of leagues for another All Ireland title.

                With all the talk of scrapping the provincial championships, even the most ardent supporter of this measure would have to admit there is something special about Thurles on a Munster Championship day. The atmosphere in Liberty Square, the pre-match banter in the pubs along that main drag, and the roar that will rock Semple Stadium when the first sliotar of this year’s Munster Championship is thrown in on Sunday, all these make for something that would simply dissipate if the GAA do away with provincial deciders. Bragging rights are so much sweeter when its a close rival you beat.

                Back to Sunday’s game however, and it remains to be seen which Tipp team will turn up on the day. With the change in management after last year’s success, it was always going to take some time for Tipperary to find top form in 2011, and this was certainly the case with poor displays against eventual finalists Waterford and Dublin coming before things started to click somewhat. What all Tipperary supporters will hope is that the mostly upward performance curve the team has been on since the defeat to Dublin will continue this weekend, and that Tipp will manage a win against Cork to erase the memories of a woeful championship opener last year in Pairc Ui Caoimh. That day the team in blue and gold got scalded by their own red hot favourites tag. This year Cork will be afforded more respect.

                Cork too come into this game on the back of a mixed league campaign, putting it up to the likes of Kilkenny and capitulating to Wexford and Dublin amongst others. In the league meeting between Sunday’s competitors back in March, the spoils were shared. Tipperary should have enough momentum to overcome Cork on Sunday, and perhaps then people will pay less attention to Kilkenny and Dublin and sit up and notice that the reigning champions have no intention of relinquishing their title.

There was a moment in Sunday’s game where the Premier faithful began to believe that there would be celebrations across the county that night. Henry Shefflin, sharpshooter extraordinaire, steps up to knock over a free which surely couldn’t trouble someone of his stature. Amidst the inevitable cheers from the Tipp supporters there was an audible groan emitted from those watching in black and amber as the umpire takes a step forward and waves the free wide. Surely not? Surely there’s some mistake? Henry doesn’t miss those ones.

                Yet he did miss, and then he proceeded to miss the final sixty minutes of the game after his knee gave way. It was a sad sight, not just for those of a Kilkenny persuasion, but for anyone with a grá for hurling. But the show must go on, and it did. In style.

                When one thinks of a cat, the immediate thoughts are of a selfish and lazy feline, lying on a rug in front of the fire. Kilkenny then are hardly suited to their Cats nickname, as they never take anything lying down, and lazy and selfish just don’t enter their style of play at all. They’d put you more in mind of a pack of piranhas, working together tirelessly to devour their opposition. They’re a fearsome sight, piranhas. But what happens when a bigger fish comes along? We found out on Sunday. Tipperary are now the big fish in the pond, and they’d better be prepared for teams to come at them hard next year, because with the display they put on in Croke Park, teams are going to need to throw the kitchen sink at them to knock them off their deserved pedestal.

                Consider a minute the heroes of September 5^th. Last year missed goal chances, and ill discipline were factors in their defeat. This year the only red to be seen in Croke Park this year was Tommy Walsh’s helmet and Brian Cody’s face post match. And goals? By god there were goals. Lar Corbett may spend his life playing down his contribution on Sunday last but the chances are there’ll be ballads written in his honour before this week is out. A hattrick in an All Ireland Hurling Final hasn’t been achieved since 1966, and there wasn’t a bad finish to any of Lar’s goals. There were legends born all over the field, and some who’ve carried that status renewed it between half three and five o clock Sunday evening. Brendan Cummins scored his first championship point, and what a game to score it in. Eoin Kelly tagged on vital frees at vital times. Noel McGrath showed the maturity, skill and vision of player’s years his senior with both his goal and his assist to Corbett’s second. The half back line defended with a ferocity befitting the occasion. Brendan Maher hurled himself into contention for player of the year.

                Tipperary supporters heard tell that there was rain in Croker Sunday. Rain? What rain? A hurricane could have ripped through Croke Park that evening and no Premier follower would have noticed. Indeed, a hurricane of sorts did pass through on Sunday. Its name was Lar Corbett, and he left a trail of devastated cats in his wake.

Henry Shefflin’s cruciate ligament. The most talked about body part in Ireland this week. If you’re honest you thought that the cruciate was where they held the World Snooker Championships every year, but that hasn’t stopped you speaking authoratively about Shefflin’s chances of playing in the big game this Sunday. You hardly dare to say the words All Ireland Final, instead referring to it constantly as the big game. A big game is a contest where both teams are given a chance of winning, but it seems that Kilkenny have a monopoly on All Ireland Finals. You make your way to Dublin on this sunny Sunday morning , wedged between countless more cars bedecked with blue and gold flags swaying in the slipstream of the buses packed to capacity with faithful followers young and old. You’re excited beyond words, but it’s tinged with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. This was the journey you undertook last year. Last September the Premier faithful made their way home disconsolate, heads filled with bouncing balls, moments of madness and lessons learned.

                Learnt lessons will go a long way towards helping this Tipperary team achieve the impossible. But then so would having Henry Shefflin on crutches. No matter how much you’d love to see the Kilkenny talisman sidelined with injury however, you know deep down that if Tipp pip the Cats to the Liam McCarthy on a day where Shefflin doesn’t tog out, it’ll forever be used as an excuse by those of a black and amber persuasion. A thousand thoughts of hurling and the heartbreak that so often comes with it cross your mind as you cruise along the N7. The journey passes quickly and soon you find all thoughts of hurling put on hold as you negotiate the traffic that seems to accumulate from Naas as far as your destination the Red Cow Luas stop.. Its an impressive sight in this weak early September morning sun; row upon row of Tipperary and Kilkenny supporters, occasionally interspersed with the odd Clare person, here to see their minor team battle it out in the Minor decider. You’re going to be queuing for your ticket a while, but that doesn’t bother you all that much. There’s an All Ireland Final ticket in your back pocket and once that’s there then there’s little that will upset you today. Kilkenny may be going for the much talked about 5 in a row but you can’t see any reason this talented Tipperary team can’t stop them in their tracks. Last year was plain sailing all the way until September, and it wasn’t until the closing twenty minutes of last year’s final that Tipperary’s season derailed. This year the Premier had a rougher ride, Cork made sure of that back in May. There’s no denying the skill inherent in this current crop of players, and taking the long way round to this years final showed that there’s grit there too. You’re cheerful and optimistic as you step aboard the Luas at last.

                On the way in you find yourself jostling for space with people from Kilkenny. You’re far from the hallowed turf of Croker, but this shoving is as close as you’re going to get to combat today. Bursts of laughter occasionally penetrate the buzz of anticipation that seems to make the carriages shake. People talk in groups, some seriously, some less so. Some play a dangerous game called predicting the result. 15 stops to Abbey Street; one for each player that’ll line out for Tipperary behind the Artane Boys band today for the parade. You think of some of those guaranteed to be on the field for the Premier when the ball is thrown in. The older players, around since the halcyon days of 2001; surely they deserve to drink from Liam McCarthy again. The young pretenders, fresh from underage success; a taste of All Ireland Senior victory will ensure they chase it again, chase it harder than ever, and that can only mean good things for the county. While you’re coming to this conclusion, Dublin has flashed by and its time to step off into the city centre.

                Thurles on a Munster Championship day; as a Tipperary supporter every other city or town is unfortunate enough to be compared to this spectacle. Thurles will forever be the home of hurling in the eyes of the Premier faithful, but even so you have to grudgingly concede that Cork and Dublin each have their own special atmospheres. Dublin’s atmosphere on the day of an All Ireland is something that has to be experienced; O’Connell Street teeming with hundreds upon thousands of supporters, carefully negotiating their way past the hats flags and headbands brigade. You follow the crowds, Kilkenny fans walking with the confidence of those who have walked this path many times in recent years. The moment in which you get your first glimpse of Croke Park looming above the surrounding houses never fails to impress or excite you, and as you glance around you see that its the same for those of all ages who have made this pilgrimage today.

                Throngs have gathered already on Jones’ Road, though the stadium that casts its shadow over them has yet to open its gates. Some are here early to search in vain hope for spare tickets, some in order to get a pre-match pint or two to calm the nerves. You decide to watch the minor game, and so as soon as the stadium opens its gates you make your way inside.

                There’s something haunting about seeing Croke Park early in the day of an All Ireland. Its empty stands belie the fact that in a few hours time a battle of immense intensity will take place on the field. And apart from the stewards trying to stop overjoyed supporters gathering on the sod to herald their heroes, there’ll also be an All Ireland Final. The minor game takes place, Kilkenny versus Clare, and though there’s no Tipperary involvement, you find yourself secretly hoping for a Clare victory that may somehow demoralise Kilkenny’s senior players. Shouts of instruction and encouragement  from both minor team’s management echo throughout the still largely empty stadium. In two hours time these shouts will come from the benches of the senior teams, but no one will hear them, such will be the noise levels in GAA headquarters.

                Two hours can be a long time on an ordinary day, but All Ireland day is far from mundane. The victorious minor team disappears elated down the tunnel, carried off on a wave of applause from the couple of thousand people already in their places. No sooner has this taken place then you shouting yourself hoarse, waving your flag with eighty thousand others as the senior teams make their way around the field behind the Artane Boys Band. For the players and the supporters this journey started as soon as the final whistle shattered dreams of a Premier victory last September. All thoughts since then have been based on whether or not there’d be a chance of redemption, a chance to prove that last year was a blip in what will be an upward journey for Tipperary hurling. The national anthem plays, but no one can truthfully say their minds are on the words. Everyone in the stadium, everyone watching at home, is waiting for the referee to throw in the first sliotar. This was once the Bishop of Cashel’s job, but even though that tradition is no more you can guarantee there are a fair few prayers on the lips of the countless watching. The players line out, all keen to make their presence felt to their opposite number. Your heart is somewhere in your throat with anticipation. Your last thought before the game commences is that it’s often said that its a long way to Tipperary but with a victory today the journey homeward will feel a lot shorter. Referee Michael Wadding throws in the ball. Croke Park erupts. Time to skin the Cats.

You stare at the ticket in your hand and wonder why you bother. Nothing ever changes. Finals come and go, heartbreak remains. Black and amber reigns supreme, and any other colours just fade to the background. 2001 seems a long time ago now. Munster Championships are an appetiser, but the hunger is there for more. Last year seemed like the chance, the time to skin the cats, erase those demons. It wasn’t to be. Maybe a few pucks in it, the bounce of the sliotar. You sigh as you remember what wasn’t, shake your head as you lock the door and begin the pilgrimage to Thurles.

On the way you think things through, lament that its Cork in the first round and not the championship decider. Those are the days a GAA fan lives for, days when for 70 minutes anything can happen, does happen. The bitter taste when thousands as one stream out of the stadium defeated, disconsolate. The euphoria when the Premier County emerge victorious, the taste of triumph washing any bitterness away. Those days are gone, the battles of old never to be repeated. The Championship isn’t like it used to be, you hear people say. One team has dominated for too long. A decade may not be a long time in the grand scheme of things, but to 31 counties in Ireland, it seems an eternity. People will forego championship games this summer in favour of obscure games in the World Cup in South Africa. You weigh up the advantages of staying at home on match days and watching the highlights on The Sunday Game. The sun is high in the sky as you reach Thurles, and you try and remember the last time Tipp played Cork on a dull day in the Munster Championship. It eludes you. You park the car near the racecourse and walk the rest towards the home of hurling.

                You’re early so you decide to take a walk into the square in Thurles, maybe sample the atmosphere. You pass people, decked in blue and gold, red and white. It never fails to surprise you, the variety of people you see at games. You see children, optimistic, hopeful, expectant. Losing isn’t in their vocabulary yet. Old men shuffle past, talking amongst themselves about games of the past. They’ll tell you that the game was more exciting back then. In your mind you think of Kilkenny lifting Liam McCarthy again, and you’re inclined to believe them. There’s a buzz around Thurles, pre-match pints being drank, laughter and shouts reverberating around the square. You have a feeling in the pit of your stomach, something you can’t quite put a finger on. You glance at your watch and realise its time to make your way to the stadium.

                You hand over your ticket at the turnstile, doing a mental calculation in your head about how many pints the cost of the ticket would have got you if you’d gone to the pub and watched the game on the box. With today’s prices, you conclude, not many. You buy a programme and jog the steps up into the heart of the terrace, dazzled by your first sight of the greenest pitch you’ve seen. Of course you’ve seen it many times before, but it never fails to amaze you. The feeling in the pit of your stomach intensifies. Half an hour to throw-in and the team is out on the field. You watch the warm-up while occasionally glancing at the team pages in the programme. Who’s new? Who’s been around since the dawn of time. You don’t know many of the players from Adam, but inside the hallowed ground of Semple Stadium, for two hours on this Sunday, you’re on first name terms. “Good thing Eoin is fit” “Lar looks up for it”. The team makes its way into the tunnel for final preparations, carried off by a wave of applause that echoes around the still filling stadium.

Ten minutes pass, the buzz around the stand and terraces grows. Five minutes to throw in, and air horns herald the arrival of the two teams. The place is rocking now, and that feeling in your stomach makes you think that perhaps you’ll be seeing a doctor tomorrow. The teams do their round of the field, led by the brass band, and you clap and shout with the best of them. The anthem is sung, and as you look at the tricolour, you realise what that feeling in your stomach is. Hope. Cork will be disposed of. Kilkenny aren’t unbeatable. This summer could end in September in Croke Park. Tears will be shed but they’ll be tears of joy. The anthem ends, but no one heard it tail off. All eyes are on the halfway line. The noise in the stadium increases. Tipp. Tipp. Tipp.

The sliotar is thrown in, and the Championship is underway.

There’s nowhere you’d rather be.