It’s getting to that mellow time of night – yes, the beer has started to flow here – in the final hour of the day before the day when, once again, we push for ultimate glory.
There’s not a whole load more to be said tonight, a night of calm before the chaos we all hope the lads – our men of the west – will unleash at Croke Park tomorrow.
Like the rest of you I’ve turned over and over in my mind all the various permutations for how the final might go. I’m still none the wiser but to my simple mind the case for us weighs heavier.
We’ve beaten everyone there is to beat over the last decade, we downed the Dubs – inflicting on them their first Championship loss in seven years – four weeks ago.
Now we need to take the final, decisive step. It won’t be easy, of course it won’t, but the easy route was never our chosen path.
It’s a step that the men of the west are ready to take at Croke Park tomorrow. What days these are to be alive to have the prospect of seeing all this unfold before our eyes.
But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Tonight is the eve of battle, a time for some quiet reflection. And some more beer.
‘Till tomorrow and all it holds for us. A day of days. A day when Sam’s up there on the plinth, waiting to be claimed.
Mayo for Sam.