I WAS certain, deep in my bones, that Limerick hurlers would beat Cork in the hurling. Certain in the same way that a man is when he knows he is in love. A profound, inexplicable certainty.

I have a kitty with David O’Malley. He is the horsey expert. I take care of the GAA side of things.

Over the last six months, we have carefully tended it, agonising over every wager like two great chess champions pondering their next move.

Once, only once, he allowed me to stray into his paddock. It was a horse called Calm the Jets, at 66/1.

O’Malley: Why?

Me: In St Pat’s Armagh, Finbar McGrath from West Belfast used to say to me, “Calm the jets Brolly, calm the jets.”

O’Malley: Are you serious?

Me: Yes.

O’Malley: €20. That’s it.

Me: Come on, €100.

O’Malley: No way.

Me: Come on David, he’ll win.

O’Malley: Would you get away from around me.

He romped home. I took out the phone and brought up the calculator.

Me: You just lost us €5,280

O’Malley: Would you get away from around me.

By last week, the kitty had grown into something to be proud of. Something to take no risks with.

Me: David. Limerick hurlers will beat Cork.

O’Malley: Why?

Me: They took a year off last year. The greatest demolition crew the game has ever seen. Can play it whatever way you want to. Still young. Still scary. Like the All-Blacks with hurls. They will win.

O’Malley: fair enough.

We took them at even money.

The rest was straightforward. The resident horsey expert took no persuading. Louth u-20s to beat Mayo. Tipp hurlers to beat Waterford. Kerry to beat Roscommon. Down to beat Clare.

Me: And the certainty of all certainties to make it a six bet accumulator

O’Malley: Who?

Me: Mayo.

O’Malley: Of course. I forgot about Mayo. Happy days.

Mayo were unbackable at 1/6 v Cavan but when the six were totted up, it was a lovely 12/1.

O’Malley: How much will we stake?

Me: This is one for the children’s trust fund.

O’Malley: Fair enough.

The bet was placed and the good news came rolling in. Friday night, Louth u-20s. Tick. Saturday: Kerry footballers. Tick. Sunday: Down footballers. Tick. Tipp hurlers. Tick. Then, it was the big one: Limerick v Cork.

From the throw-in, the Limerick wrecking ball swung through the Cork men, knocking them senseless. After a few minutes, it was 1-2 to 0-0. O’Malley texted me, “Home and hosed” with a little champagne emoji and confetti.

By half time it was 2-18 to 0-9, the Cork lads were asking for their mammy and we were feeling on top of the world.

We hadn’t even thought about Mayo. It wasn’t on TV.

It was then I decided to tune into Midwest Radio, just to bask in the inevitability of our triumph, only to hear the inimitable Martin Carney (the best and most entertaining commentator in the country) saying, “This is shameful. Mayo are clueless out there. You would think they had never played together. What in the hell is going on?”

I sensed that this was not good. Michael D McAndrew, who always sees the brighter side of life, said, “There’s still 20 minutes to go, anything can happen.” “Not even the most optimistic Mayo supporter could think we can turn this around,” said Martin, “even the ones that would climb Mount Everest naked waving a Mayo flag, and there are plenty of those.”

At the final whistle, Martin said “that was the worst I have ever seen.” The jubilant Cavan manager Ray Galligan gave the “we didn’t come here to make up the numbers” speech (which is exactly why he thought they had come).

O’Malley texted me. “I told you we shouldn’t have backed Mayo.”

A few minutes into the Limerick game, the leader of the opposition, noting my exuberance, asked me how much we had bet. I told her €20. If she knew the truth, she would be tabling a motion of no confidence.

Photo caption

RIP THAT DOCKET UP…Raymond Galligan and Cavan threw a spanner in the works