There is a peculiar tendency to allow achievements of the past to eclipse achievements of the present, particularly with sport, so the suggestion that the current Wexford camogie team, All Ireland champions on three successive occasions after Sunday’s thriller against Cork, is the best, in any code, to have worn the county colours, will be assailed by unwarranted comparison with other eras.
However, irrespective of the outcome of Sunday’s final, this unique cohesion of unprecedented talent had already confirmed its position on the pantheon of legendary Wexford teams, the equal of past All Ireland winners, but the first since the foundation of the State to be the best Wexford XV in the country on four occasions in half a dozen years.
There is something else about this squad that is notably absent in the modern history of football, hurling or camogie in a county boasting the third biggest membership of the GAA after Cork and Dublin, and that is an outstanding and – for a Wexford team – uncommon run of consistency.
Personally, I have no hesitation in saying that the camogie team of the past six years is, without a doubt, the most talented bunch of players I have ever seen, be it hurling, rugby, soccer, to compete at the highest level, contributing to the most competitive finals in the modern era, and in doing so they have, both individually and as a collective, raised the bar for camogie as a spectator sport whose appeal is no longer restricted by gender.
Plainly put, the final 48 hours ago was as good as it gets and it had everything: stoic defending, unfettered attacking by both teams, unsurpassable fitness and a brace of the best goals you would pray to see in an All Ireland final, two worthy of a song or two in a county obsessed with the past when an heroic present is staring it in the face.
Their defence of their All Ireland crown was unmistakably lionhearted: I feared for them going in at the interval when in a surreal six minutes earlier of extra time Cork drew level with a goal and a point against a back unit that does not normally leak easy scores.
In the second half the team emerged unchanged, a vote of confidence by the management when it was most needed, and any suspicion that though well meaning it might have been misjudged, was dismissed by a renewal of Herculean effort in midfield and an extra sharpness among the forwards.
Among the defenders, who had to be resolute from the off, players like Claire O’Connor and Deirdre Codd showed this remarkable, almost intuitive ability to interpret other players moves.
When this match is recalled in the twilights of our years, we will not forget Katrina Parrock’s majestic point from over her shoulder, her Messi-like goal or indeed Ursula Jacob’s wonder strike, described by Cyril Farrell as one of the best he has ever seen in hurling. In conclusion, it was a final with a penchant for magical goals, from both sides.
However, nor should we ever be declined to forget the indomitable spirit of this golden generation of players, role models on and off the field, personified throughout the years by a player like stalwart Mary Leacy, a tremendous fielder and intelligent passer, who, by virtue of her selfless commitment to the team and gritty determination, personifies what makes the class of 2012 so special.
There is something highly fluent and intelligent about Wexford’s hurling which, when you add in the conveyor belt of new talent, makes it aesthetically pleasing to watch. Long may it continue.
