We went to Dublin for the 1982 final. We were raging favourites. Little wonder, we waltzed our way through Munster untroubled. We had a dream team that had been enhanced by the inclusion of Martin Doherty. He was, at the time, resident in California but returned for the final. Great. Alas, we were beaten out the gate by a gritty Kilkenny who hit us very hard early and earlier.
Myself and my two friends, both deceased with ten or more years, couldn’t face post - match couldas or shouldas so we returned to bed in Barry,s Hotel. We were shattered beyond shattering. It took us some time before we could arise and face the day.
We were back in Dublin for the following year’s final. Another loss to Kilkenny. We had a mighty post match in the Shakespear Bar. It proves that there is a huge difference between losing well and losing badly. The three of us agreed that we would not dare lose 3 in a row. And so it proved.