Here he comes, the loping man. Trotting into the scene unnoticed like a rubber-necker at a bank job, sniffing around the Tipperary clearance from his injury-time free.
The day has been an odd one for Joe Canning. Anonymous for the first half-hour, to the point where there was loose muttering over what his fate might be if he wasn't who he is. Luminous from that point on though, whipping points from all angles and distances.
And finally, here he is. The game is essentially done now, as James Barry’s clearance drops in midfield and the whistles bounce off the horseshoe roof over the 68,184 crowd.
Galway and Tipp have played out another afternoon of improbable melodrama in Croke Park and as Johnny Coen collects the break out around midfield, the sides are level for the 13th time.
Galway have, it’s fair to say, been the better side. Tipp have hung on in there through a series of cameos – some wizardry from Bubbles O’Dwyer here, some totemic clutching of the nettle from Pádraic Maher there. That star power ability to conjure something out of nowhere is the boxer’s punch for Tipperary, the last thing they’ll lose. And here it looks like it has bought them a replay, thanks in part to Galway missing a handful of second-half goal chances.
As Coen fastens onto the ball, Canning is insinuating his way into the general area, making it his business. No other Galway player has scored for 20 minutes now. Canning has missed four frees and a sideline across the day but in this closing spell he has been outrageous, landing a couple of points from play, planting both a 65 and a free from 90 metres. Tipp have been hanging on – the last three equalising points have been theirs. They’ve had to be.
So when Coen makes ground up the right sideline and turns in hope of support, his eyes must light up when he sees Canning’s white helmet hove into view. He dishes it back and Canning, standing 48 metres out and a hurley’s length in from the Cusack Stand sideline, has time only to catch, plant his left foot and swing.
Niall O’Meara gets to within a foot of blocking him down, Noel McGrath jumps Schmeichel-style in front of him but neither makes an impression. The strike is pure as hillside water and as the ball drops over the bar, the clock ticks 74:00. Galway 0-22 Tipperary 1-18. Bedlam.
They're Thelma and Louise at this stage, Galway and Tipp. They took each other by the hand again here and careered off into the unknown, unable to let each other go. They came at each other in waves here, Galway to the fore early on, Tipp leapfrogging them for a bit once they got their bearings. Occasionally you got the sense that one of them would break free but no sooner had we thought it than we thought better of it.
Fantastic score
"There was literally nothing in it," said Tipp manager Mick Ryan afterwards "What a fantastic score Joe Canning pulled off at the end. It was fantastic. He is a heart-breaker. It is not his first time.
“I suppose I have the benefit of being around a long time lads and I’ve been on the receiving end of this quite a bit. You come and you do your best and that’s all you can do. Nobody knows the results of these games because other than that we wouldn’t be as passionate about it, it wouldn’t mean as much to any of us.
“Our boys put their lives and souls into this. They really, really did their best. You can only come up and do your best and it didn’t work out. We were beaten by a really, really good Galway team and that shouldn’t be any surprise to anybody. They are a quality side.”
That they are.
Galway dazzled in flashes here, with Conor Whelan in pick-pocket form and Gearóid McInerney obdurate to the end. Though the Cooney cousins weren't as all-singing as in the Leinster final, they still chipped in their share. And Johnny Glynn was a thoroughly useful dodgem when he came on.
But when it mattered, it was Canning that mattered. After not taking a shot from play in the Leinster final, he waited until just before the break for his first one here.
In fact, he was a listless presence for most of that opening half and it was only when he threw a tectonic shoulder that sent Michael Breen over the sideline in front of the Tipp bench on 34 minutes that he seemed to stir at all. He split the posts with the resultant sideline cut from all of 50 metres and from that point on, he was divine.
So now. Galway head to another final, looking to end a famine that’s lasted 29 years. They will have Cork or they will have Waterford and one way or another, they will have a battle. But as long as they have the loping man in the white helmet, nothing will seem impossible.
