The only appropriate reaction to Cian Lynch’s magic was to shed a tear and give thanks for being alive

A TEAM knocking at the door of eternity, one glazed by glistening, breathtaking, terrifying peak-of-their-power sheen, carried the ancient game to another universe of wonder.

mmune to gravity, soaring weightless to untouched dimensions, Limerick hurtled through the ozone.

Long before half-time, this jaw-dropping exhibition of power, touch, rhythm, efficiency, ferocity, selflessness, craft and carnivorous hunger had brought Cork – forlorn and broken – to the edge of ruin.

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