Joy, then despair in the rain on our family trip to the Páirc fanzone

Last summer, my family scrambled for tickets for the All-Ireland hurling final against Clare - not for Croke Park, but for the family fanzone area in Páirc Uí Chaoimh.

We got a taste of what it might be like to be a Taylor Swift fan, poised at a laptop to snap up gold dust tickets.

Fanzone tickets sold out last year in minutes, much to the dismay of my kids, but we managed to secure three tickets from friends and my husband did the time-honoured tradition of holding a homemade ‘Looking for a ticket’ sign.

It was like standing outside the Gresham Hotel in Dublin, vainly hoping the ticket angels will bless you, except here he was handed a spare, free one within seconds. Things were going our way - would it continue with a favourable result?

Alas, no.

Last summer, we traipsed out of the stadium in the rain, withered, with two crying disappointed children. Misery.

We hoped this year was going to be different. That the overwrought tears caused by losing by just a point after extra-time would be replaced by life-long memories of victory.

Sadly, it wasn’t to be last Sunday.

The best thing about Cork doing well in the hurling is not just the joy of watching sporting wizards for 70 minutes, it’s the bolt of happiness at seeing red and white flags strung from houses, the homemade signs by kids in windows, the enormous flag erected over Tramore Valley Park.

The sight of flags fluttering from bridges, balconies and box bedrooms was giving me butterflies all week.

Each string of bunting a silent wish - “Hon the Rebels”, every child’s homemade poster a quiet cry of “Up Cork”. Flags in support of the team, but mainly flying in hope that this year would be the year

When your eye becomes tuned to spotting red and white, you see gestures of Cork loyalty everywhere. Red wheelie bins, the red Golden Discs sign on Patrick Street, even the ‘Stop’ traffic signs all seem to be up for Cork. ( I may have been suffering from a touch of pre-match delirium by this stage.)

I lapped up all the articles in the build-up. The stories of the 99-year-old All-Ireland winner, the reminiscences of the 2005 Cork All-Ireland winners, the face-palm photo of the premature tattoo claiming Cork as the 2025 victors (seriously, did he jinx it?), and I revelled in the random conversations with strangers that can be struck up over the hurlers.

En route by bike to Páirc Uí Chaoimh on Sunday, a man out walking his dog gave us an “Up the rebels” greeting. It was near enough to throw-in time and I asked if he was walking the dog to ease the nerves. “Chalk it down,” he said with a roll of his eyes and a parting salutation to “enjoy the match!”

Sometimes, those quick chats about hurling can quickly take a turn to the personal or the profound.

Just after the Munster final, I was queuing in the post office that Brian Hayes’s mother works at. I was unaware of that fact until an excitable young fella (possibly still celebrating a few days after the win) banged on the window and started roaring unintelligibly, punctuated by “Up the rebels” at the end of his rant. My fellow queue-ers and I got a fright.

From the ferocious roaring, we thought we were under attack, but it turned out, after a bit of repetition, that this young man was simply loudly celebrating that the fantastic hurler Brian Hayes had a familial connection to this post office!

What we first feared was a near-death experience turned out to be a celebration!

I ended up in a deep and meaningful conversation with a man who was preparing for his daughter’s wedding. We talked about lasting relationships, the power of sport to lift people, the importance of celebrating the good days because God knows there are plenty of bad ones along life’s path.

We should have hugged as we bade farewell, but we’d only popped in for a bank withdrawal and stamps, so it seemed premature.

For weeks, the level of chat and anticipation about whether Cork could or could not do it continued unchecked.

By the weekend, I couldn’t listen to another speculating pundit - would they throw the ball in already?

Inside the fanzone at the Páirc was the happy scene of families on picnic blankets, cartwheeling kids on the pitch, and young boys gratefully knocking ball back and forth on the hallowed ground.

The ear-splitting volume of last year’s event had been thankfully rectified and, with the sun shining down on us this time, I dared to hope that this might be the day.

The dark clouds gathered over the Páirc as half-time approached. The heavens opened and the crowd ducked for shelter. Was it a portent of what was to come?

Unfortunately, yes.

The Tipperary team devastated everyone’s hope in the second-half, emphatically bursting all our expectations and completely deflating the fanzone.

The red card for Eoin Downey was too much for my kids and the tears started to flow. I spent the rest of the match consoling them and watching other fans leave early.

Even though we’re deeply disappointed, I reminded the kids we had a fantastic season of hurling. We’ve been awed by the hurling magicians on the team, jumped around like lunatics on our couches at yet another Cork goal hitting the back of the net.

We’ve got lumps in our throats watching Cork hurlers lift silverware and appreciate how hard they work and the sacrifices they make to entertain and lift us.

Of course, we all want the Liam MacCarthy Cup home, but it wasn’t to be this year.

Thank-you to the whole team and Pat Ryan for still making summer, 2025, one to remember.

We’ll leave the flags up a little bit longer as symbols of gratitude and hope for next year.