LIMERICK’S oppressive, joyless, inevitable advance to the Liam MacCarthy Cup last weekend was unbelievably boring. I have never felt like that watching a hurling final, but with Limerick, we are in the era of the super robot.

Limerick’s recent domination may be similar to Dublin’s in terms of outcome, but that is where the similarity ends. The difference lies in the terrific entertainment the Dubs provide. Their big contests over the last decade have been riveting.

All of their finals victories have been nail-biters, whether against Kerry or Mayo, the sole exception being their facile 2018 victory over a Tyrone team confused by the novel command to attack.

Limerick ingeniously strangle the middle third with their system, all power and pace and tackling, then pick off the opposition with points as they break forward on the counter-attack.

It is excellent for what it is, but extremely dull. Dublin’s system meanwhile perfectly balances defence and attack. Dublin score goals. Lots of them. Limerick, who do not commit forwards to the attack, do not. What a curious contradiction.

It is this perfect balance that sets Dublin apart. It is why any serious student of football is a student of Dublin.

The only comparable team was the Kerry Golden Years crew, but unlike Dublin, they were fallible. They blew the five in-a-row to a team they should never have lost to, courtesy of a goal from a portly substitute whose best days were behind him.

They lost because they were complacent (they are not good enough to beat us), arrogant (we are superior to them) and duly succumbed to the hype of their inevitable victory. In other words, they were distracted.

So when Offaly stubbornly stuck with them, their minds, which were sidetracked by thoughts of the immortality that awaited them, were unable to focus on the game. It was a classic example of the underdog bounce, something that is an ever present reality for even very good teams.

Think of Kerry’s shock defeat to a mediocre Cork team a few weeks ago, or Donegal’s to Cavan, or Cork’s to Division Three’s Tipperary. As the underdog rises, maybe a goal goes in, the favourites think “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, we better do something quickly.”

The underdog feeds off their panic and the favourite is defeated, left to console themselves over their dreary pints with the thought that “we would beat those boys by 10 points if we played them tomorrow.”

Dublin know that tomorrow never comes. Against them, there is no underdog bounce. This is because their concentration on the game is absolute. The opposition, whether it is Leitrim or Kerry, is irrelevant. The scoreboard is a matter for the person with the scoreboard laptop.

We see this in the way they always defeat the underdog. The words we use are ruthless and merciless. What we really mean is that their concentration is complete. Every game they play in they are the hot favourites. Every game they play in, they win. Dublin to win two in-a-row. They win. Dublin to win three in-a-row. They win. Dublin to win four in-a-row. They win. Dublin to achieve immortality and win five in-a-row. They win.

In the 1920s, the German philosopher Eugen Herrigel visited Japan to study archery and Zen under the renowned master Awa Kenzô. What he discovered surprised him. Kenzô taught him that the point of archery was not to hit the target or defeat the opponent. The point was to become so deeply absorbed in the activity itself that the outside world disappeared.

Winning or losing was merely a by-product. The important thing was to revel in the performance of the task. To devote unwavering concentration to each facet of it. Herrigel discovered that it was those players who were able to absorb themselves fully in the contest that consistently won.

Some recent examples of this total immersion. In the 28th minute of the Leinster final, with Dublin 2-10 to 0-2 ahead, a Meath kick-out was broken down (again) and James McCarthy launched himself head first for the ball as it rolled towards the sideline, oblivious to his own safety, or to the scoreboard, vainly trying to keep it in as it rolled over the sideline.

In the 68th minute of the Leinster final, with Dublin leading by 3-20 to 0-9, Dean Rock missed a free 25 metres out slightly to the right of the goals and was visibly furious with himself. He had allowed his concentration to wander. This was unacceptable and it would not happen again. He could still be seen chastising himself after the final whistle.

In the Cavan game, Rock was flawless. In the 65th minute of that game, with Dublin already out of sight, Cavan ’keeper Raymond Galligan delicately flighted a medium range kick-out over the head of the Dublin number 11 into a pocket of space that had been open to him all day. Only by the 65th minute, the Dubs were on to him. As the Cavan player took possession, Michael Fitzsimmons and Robbie McDaid came sprinting in to cut him off from in front, Con O’Callaghan from behind and as they tackled him, he just about managed to get the hand-pass away to a team mate.

As the ball left his hand, Fitzsimmons, McDaid, Callaghan and now Cormac Costello sprinted to the next Cavan man and overpowered him. The second the four Dubs saw Fitzsimmons get a hand to the ball, they turned and took off towards the Cavan goals. Fitzsimmons flicked it up, hand-passed it on to Rock, who gave a perfectly flighted hand-pass to the far post for McDaid (who had made up 40 metres) to palm delicately to the net. It was reminiscent of the great All Blacks team during the Richie McCaw captaincy. They were in a cocoon of their own that the opposition could not penetrate.

The last time Dublin were beaten was in 2014. That day, Donegal mounted a perfect ambush. They scored three goals. They had total confidence in themselves and came to the game as rampant 2012 champions.

They had several leaders and in McFadden and Murphy, two hall of fame forwards. They had a game-plan they had spent two years rehearsing, a game plan Dublin disrespected. They won by six points that day. Since then, Dublin have been on a path of continuous improvement. Mayo have not. They are a good entertaining team but they are mentally weak.

If Mayo score a goal, Dublin will not be demoralised. If Mayo score two goals, they will not be demoralised.

You know how it will pan out. Cluxton will set the ball down and take the kick out as though nothing has happened at all. The Dublin players will perform relentlessly, immersed in their task, minute by minute, second by second. We know this because we have seen them doing it for six relentless years.

If the game reaches a crunch point, and everything is on the line, Dublin will delve into a memory bank of only winning experiences. What can Mayo delve into?

Last year, Mayo played very well against Dublin and lost by 10 points. Since Dublin do not entertain the underdog bounce, Mayo will have to win this match all by themselves and to do that they will have to concentrate for 75 or 80 minutes and outplay Dublin. Their task is therefore impossible.

On Saturday, as soon as the whistle goes, Dublin will begin. They will not stop. Remote in their concentration, they will be totally immersed in their task. A sixth All-Ireland in-a-row will be a mere by product of this immersion.

If he were alive to see it, Awa Kenzô would be pleased.