Torment, tickets, motorways and magic: Another summer following the Déise

The 42

26-05-2025

MY FATHER IS an absolute divil. This is the main thought in my head as the two of us stand with a pint in Blackrock GAA club, keeping an eye on the Dublin-Galway game. Earlier that morning he picked me up for the long drive from Dublin to see Waterford take on Cork at Páirc Uí Chaoimh. I have only just found out he doesn't have a ticket. By half-time, we'll be sitting beside each other in the South Stand Lower.
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It's been a summer like no other. For the first time in our experience, Munster championship tickets have been hard to come by. The opening home game against Clare threatened to be the first ever Waterford championship fixture we failed to get tickets for, before a determined aunt saved the day. We were perhaps slow off the mark for the Cork game due to different life commitments and so it sold out before we got sorted. Our usual ticket man, Dad's cousin, was struggling himself. As the week rolls along every couple of hours, I jump onto Ticketmaster and hopefully hit refresh, to no avail.
This is probably a good time to point out that I'm not from Waterford. But Dad is, and it's always been a huge part of my life. Shortly after I entered this world, my grandparents put a small hurley with a blue and white ribbon in my hands. I can't remember my first Waterford game because I was too young to have any real interest in it. Over the years, I probably stood in more photos with Ken McGrath than I did some family members. I'm getting married this year and can only hope it lives up to the 2004 Munster final.
Ken McGrath was at the heart of the great 2000s team. INPHO INPHO
The matchday crew was bigger up to my teenage years. Granddad, grand-uncles, aunts, uncles, cousins, extended-family-members-I-could-never-quite-remember-the-titles-for. Sandwiches out the back of the car, plastic sheeting packed for the wet days in Thurles, a marker in the pocket to get the jersey signed. We don't get to call into my grandparents' house anymore but I'd often still think about my granddad when I go to a game.
These days, as a sports journalist, there are seasons where I might only get to one Waterford match. But this year has been a good one. I've seen them play Dublin – complete with the usual 'Who are you up for today, so?' jibes – Clare and Tipperary.
For home games in Walsh Park we park up in Mount Sion, Da's old club. I love it there. We'll throw an eye over the underage games before meeting family and walking down the hill to the stadium. Afterwards we'll go back up to the club. Ordering a pint at the bar last year, a fella turned to me:
'Where you from, boi?' – my Waterford bucket hat failing to cover for my very not-Waterford accent.
'Ah, Dublin, but I support Waterford…'
'No. Where you from, boi?'
'Eh, Waterford?'
'That's it boi, don't ye just have to love the Déise!'
If Waterford have won, there'll be live music or a DJ on and we'll reluctantly hit the road for home, promising ourselves we'll all book the Monday off some time and stay the night. The opening win against Clare was one such occasion. At full-time, after the PA roared 'Up the Déise', I turned to my uncle and miserably warned this might be as good as it gets. That might have been why later that evening, I jumped out of the car and went back inside when the band played Oasis. Grab the good times when they're there.
Waterford beat Clare in their opening Munster game. Natasha Barton / INPHO Natasha Barton / INPHO / INPHO
I couldn't get to the Limerick game but the family WhatsApp kept me up to date as I watched Northampton Saints rip Leinster apart in their Champions Cup semi-final, one of those results proving far more unexpected than the other.
The third outing against Tipp bookended my own stag weekend, where, naturally, I gathered all my closest friends in Waterford.
We hit some of the city's best pubs on Friday before spending a gloriously sunny Saturday on the greenway, soaking up the sun in Dungarvan and jumping in the sea at Clonea. I considered quitting my job to work for the Waterford Tourism Board.
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On Sunday morning, tired heads planned their various journeys home while three of us – me, Dad and my brother – set out for Semple Stadium. Approaching Thurles from the south was a new experience, and Da asked if we should park at the Greyhound Stadium or further up the town and walk in. My brother scoffed at the very suggestion. What's a day in Thurles if you don't walk through the square before the game? Waterford lose but as the disappointment eases on the way home, we arrive at the usual conclusion that it was a great day.
With my brother and Dad at the Tipperary game.
Cork feels more ominous and by Friday evening, we're still empty-handed, but we've never not got sorted, so we plan to head down anyway. I wake up to an email from Dad at 1.17am on Saturday morning (because a text might wake me up) with my ticket attached. Message: 'We're in. Up the Déise!'
And so we're off. On the drive down we talk about the Champions Cup final – Da is known to wear a Bordeaux-Bègles baseball cap – Donegal-Tyrone, Napoli, Big Ange, Chelsea's Champions League chances, and mostly, Saturday's league final win for the Skryne ladies football team he helps coach. Perhaps my suspicions should have risen when approaching the city, he asks if noted Corkman, my 42 colleague Gavan Casey, gets any tickets for the hurling.
The truth eventually comes out as I let my Murphy's settle in Blackrock, a fantastic club bar where the hurleys of past legends are proudly on display to be admired. We've only the one ticket, and Dad is insistent I have it as, for reasons I can't quite work out myself, today is somehow my first trip to the Páirc since it was redeveloped.
My plan of action is a simple one; we'll do the rounds of the tables in Blackrock, starting with the Waterford supporters, and see if we get lucky. Da gets into a conversation with Brian 'The Bull' Phelan, part of the legendary noughties Waterford team. I've no doubt the glory days are mentioned before the ticket issue is raised. No luck. We decide to head closer to the ground and as we leave, Phelan follows us out the door. 'I might have you sorted.' Calls are made, numbers swapped and a golden ticket lands into Da's WhatsApp. We get chips and sit in the sun. I learn Da had a laptop in the boot for a worst-case scenario.
Páirc Uí Chaoimh was a sell-out for Sunday's game. James Crombie / INPHO James Crombie / INPHO / INPHO
The new Páirc is impressive, and we share memories of horror trips to the previous version on the slow walk in. As fortune has it, we're both in the same section of the South Stand, with my aunt and uncle just one block over. Even though we all meet up before the game, as the warm-ups take place, there's still a moment where the three of us are all standing at our seats and waving on the phone, confirming a proximity we already knew. We text my brother, unavailable for the day due to his own match. A picture returns. He's made it home to watch with Mam, a fresh cup of tea ready in his John Mullane mug.
I don't know how Waterford are a point down at half time. They've battled hard but haven't made enough use of the strong breeze. That'll cost them. Stephen Bennett should have had a penalty. Guys like Jamie Barron, Darragh Lyons and Jack Prendergast will run themselves into the ground but a few lads still look a bit off the pace. Conor Prunty is having a massive game. The Cork forwards have been quiet but their speed terrifies me.
I look down and Da is waving up to me. I translate the hand gesturing to mean the seat next to him is free. Turns out, the man beside him is relocating to sit with a buddy for the second half. Having had no tickets 48 hours ago and only one ticket two hours ago, the pair of us are now beside each other just a couple of rows from the front. We dissect the first half and praise 'The Bull' Phelan again. My brother has already spotted Da on the TV.
A couple of mistakes fall Cork's way in the second half and they punish us ruthlessly. An animated local next to me grabs my arm, still recovering from a recent fracture, and yanks me toward him. 'HOW IS DOING THAT A FREE!!!'
We're all watching Austin Gleeson every time he warms up. It's near impossible to take your eyes off Dan Shanahan, who plays every ball on the sideline. Aussie comes on for the final 10 and hits one beautiful ball into Dessie Hutchinson. I wonder why I'm watching that happen for the first time this year. Dessie, who had dropped to the bench after a quiet summer, raises a white flag. Bennett hits a post. Waterford run out of time. Prendergast drops to the turf in front of us, the tank empty. 'They were there for the taking today,' I tell Da. He doesn't respond.
Waterford selector Dan Shanahan. James Crombie / INPHO James Crombie / INPHO / INPHO
We go back to Blackrock and wait for the traffic to die. On the walk up Waterford supporters nod the head, 'How are ye, lads.' Cork people do the same, 'Tough luck today.'
We're halfway home and need to eat. Da thinks of stops he used to know before the motorway opened. I check Google. Some are gone and many are closed. We turn off into Urlingford and park outside an Italian/Wine Bar that's open until 10pm. It's quiet. The wine list: Glass of red or white, €7. After 16 years the place is closing down soon, but our waitress already has a new job lined up in Kilkenny.
As we wait for our food, Da opens a liveblog and relives the match. I read Peter Queally's post-match comments and his words hit home. I didn't think Waterford would win a Munster or All-Ireland title this year, and so my disappointment is not rooted in their championship being over. I'm disappointed we won't get to do this again for so long. Waterford's summer is done and it's not even June. Other counties have it worse, no question, but for a strong hurling county to be finished so early in the year seems wrong. I'm sure Wexford feel the same. Lee Chin should have a bigger summer stage. Tony Kelly likewise. I think of my godson, a Liverpool nut, who was pucking around a ball in his Ballygunner jersey on the Semple Stadium pitch after the Tipp game, and how he won't get to watch Waterford play summer hurling for 12 months.
I've been that kid, and as Waterford's summers ended, my attention shifted to World Cups and the Dublin footballers into rugby interpros and Premier League. We'll still get to a few games and will go along to the All-Ireland knock-outs if we can, but for the last few years, my Waterford hat has seen more summer action on beaches than in the stands.
We get home late and I feel a mix of regret and gratitude. Waterford lost three of four to finish bottom in Munster. The team have given us great moments over the years – Ken's catch v Cork in that 2004 final. Paul Flynn's goal in the same game. Dan Shanahan in 2007. His goal v Cork 2010. Aussie's against Cork in 2017. Mullane. This wasn't one of those years. And still, I can't wait to do it all again.
Your man in Mount Sion was right. You just have to love the Déise.