The Peter Duggan Diary: All-Ireland-winning insights from Clare's epic win over Cork

The All-Ireland final was tilting towards the edge, towards uncertainty and precariousness, but everyone was ready to do whatever was required to push our team, county and Clare people all over the world closer to a state of nirvana.

I was gone off the pitch since the 66th minute of normal time but the pace and intensity was so frenetic and ferocious that bodies were creaking and cracking all over the place in extra-time. Next man up, whatever the cause required.

Tommy Corbett asked me if I was needed to come back in for the second half of extra-time, was I able? ‘Yeah, no problem,’ I replied. I jogged down to the corner-flag and was hardly able to walk. I had to be honest with Tommy when I came back up the line. I had nothing left in my legs. Gone.

There was no panic. Despite the pace Cork had on the pitch by that stage, we knew we had the legs on them. We said in the dressing room at full time that we’d outlast and outfight them across that last critical line of the battleground. 

I knew we’d be the last team standing, the side to hoist our flag highest on the battlefield when the last shots were fired.

And yet, that last shot was like something in slow motion, like I was watching it all unfold underwater, suspended in silence as Robbie O’Flynn grabbed the sliotar and turned to shoot. No. Please no. Shot. Wide. Final whistle. Chaos. Ecstasy.

Nirvana.

Wednesday, July 17

When my partner Aoife and I moved back home from Australia in 2021, we settled in Liscannor in west Clare. I love it back there, beside the ocean, on the edge of the western seaboard, but still close enough to every place, everything and everybody that matters to me.

I work in construction so I’m normally up at 6am and on the road by 6.20. I have my supplements and coffee before listening to David Cuddy’s podcast ‘The Wood From The Trees’ on the way into Ennis. He was chatting about forestry.

David is great craic but I love that agricultural stuff. It’s nearly a reflection of my personality.

I work with Donal Conheady, who is a carpenter. We were in Roslevan, where we’re refitting an old house. I finished up early because we were putting down the underground heating in my own house that we’re building in Spancilhill, beside my brother Martin and just across the road from where I grew up.

Michael Walsh, the plumber, was orchestrating everything but Tom Curran, a young lad from Doora-Barefield, came over to help us. When that was done, I headed to Morey’s gym in Sixmilebridge for our gym session with Clare. I’m nearly always late, which drives Lucasz our S&C coach wild. At least I had an excuse today – pipes and concrete.

I like the gym, as much for the subtle banter as the work. We do everything we need to get done but I really enjoy Ian Galvin, especially this evening. He was making noises and riling everyone up. He’s the kind of character you need around the place – especially on weeks like this.

After food, I hit the road west. It takes me about an hour. I’m fairly tired at the end of a working day, especially after training. I’m usually in bed by 9.30pm. Shattered. I start looking at farming videos on YouTube. 

That’s my way of falling asleep. I don’t bother with Netflix. It’s too addictive, I find it only keeps me awake. Farming videos are like a sedative for me. I’m blacked out by 10.

Thursday, July 18

As soon as I woke up I knew I had to ring Donal. I was stiff. Tired. Half crippled. I needed to rest on until 9. I’m extremely lucky to have a boss who is so understandable and facilitating of my hurling career. Otherwise, there is no way I could work in construction.

Donal gives me the leeway another boss might not. As soon as I got up, I headed for just outside Tulla, beside Caherlohan, where we were setting out ring-beams for the roof of an old derelict house that’s being done up. I wasn’t much use to Donal. After three hours, I had a crick in my neck.

As soon as I said it to Donal, he started laughing. ‘You’re falling apart,’ he said. Three days before an All-Ireland final, he was half-right. All I could do was laugh back at him.

I rang Shane Malone, the Clare physio, who’s based in Limerick. He told me to come into his workplace. I went home to Spancilhill and had a shower, before tearing in the road to Shane. I felt great afterwards.

On the road back to Liscannor, I rang Fitzy (David Fitzgerald) and Cathal (Malone) and we arranged for the three of us to go to the gym in Lahinch. On our days off from Clare, we always meet up and do something. Fitzy is from Inagh. Cathal is from Ennistymon. 

Liscannor is only over the road. The three of us have this WhatsApp group called ‘Whest’. Some craic on it.

We always try to do something every Thursday, whether that’s going for a dip in Clahane beach, or for a few pucks in the community field in Lahinch. This evening, we decided to go for a 20 minute stretch in the gym in Lahinch Leisure Centre – who have been very good to us – before jumping into the sauna and jacuzzi afterwards.

After feeling like I was falling apart earlier in the day, now I felt like a million dollars.

Friday, July 19

I took Friday off but Aoife and I had plans made long before we reached an All-Ireland final. Martin, my older brother, and his wife Erin were going to the wedding of Erin’s brother in the Armada Hotel in Spanish Point in Miltown-Malbay. 

And Aoife and I were booked to babysit their two girls, Freya and Ella.

The first thought Martin had after the Kilkenny game was the wedding, and the arrangements they’d made, but Aoife said that nothing was going to change. Aoife collected the girls in Miltown-Malbay after the wedding, brought them back and minded them in Martin’s house. Aoife told me to stay in Liscannor to get a good night’s sleep but that’s a never concern for me. I sleep better than Freya and Ella.

I wasn’t abdicating my responsibilities – we had training in the evening, plus my main babysitting duties weren’t kicking in until the following day.

I’m never early for the gym but I’m always one of the first in the gate for training. We usually train at 6.30. I’m always there for 5.10. I get changed, see the physio before enjoying the part of training I love most – pucking around with a load of balls.

Davy Hoey, the groundsman, has the Cusack Park pitch in outrageous shape. I got giddy when I saw it. I was buzzing out there. We all were. We did a small bit of video analysis beforehand, mostly focusing on ourselves. Anytime we do video work, we always go for a three or four minute puck afterwards, before starting the session.

It was light, as expected. While we were having food in the canteen, the place was hopping. I knew from everyone there that, no matter what the result was going to be, we were going to perform.

We normally head for the jacuzzi in the West County hotel after training but I drove to Liscannor and went straight into the sea in Clahane. 

The Atlantic Ocean provides the biggest ice bath in the world. Perfect.

Saturday, July 20

As expected, I slept like a baby. I always do. Most of that probably stems from the physical work I do, which I love. My sleep patterns are usually very predictable – 8 hours, from 10-6.

I’m normally so blacked out that I’m able to do some rehab while I’m unconscious. I’ve had desperate trouble with my ankle since the week after the Cork game in April, when I tore ligaments and damaged a tendon in my leg. The injury has severely restricted my ability to train ever since so whatever I need to do to make sure I am on the pitch when it matters, I do it.

I have this ‘Gameready’ machine, which is like a compression boot that pumps cold and heat around your foot as a form of therapy. It’s probably not recommended that you sleep with it on but I’ve been doing that for the last two months now. I must have spent hundreds of euros on ice in that time.

I don’t feel a thing while I’m asleep but my patterns are so defined that I was awake again just after 6. If I’m tired, I go back to sleep on a day off. If I’m not, I get up. I did because I was as fresh as a daisy. When I looked at my phone I saw a Snapchat from Aoife so I knew she was up with the girls.

I had my supplements and coffee. I drove into the coffee hatch in Lahinch for another hit of caffeine, along with a protein ball. I cruised back into Spancilhill and spent most of the day playing with Freya and Ella. I went into Coffee Rush on the Tulla Road to get Aoife a coffee and two cupcakes for the girls.

Aoife spent the evening getting ready to go to Dublin with her Mum and Dad. After we said our goodbyes, I dropped the girls back to the Armada to Martin and Erin. I was trying to make sure that they stayed awake and didn’t fall asleep so I took out Spotify on my phone and started playing songs from ‘Frozen’.

Freya and Ella are two little princesses. They know every single song from that movie. Any song that wasn’t about Elsa, Freya let me know about it straight away. I kept the playlist going but five minutes before I got to the Armada, they ko’d. I never said anything to Martin and Erin.

On the way back over to Liscannor, I stopped off in Ennistymon to pick up my food for the evening, chicken and pasta, before skipping into Hugo’s bakery in Lahinch for a sandwich. Around 5, I packed my bags, gear bag and clothes bag. I cleaned my boots and had everything spotless, ready to go for the job at hand.

I lit the fire, cooked the dinner and chilled out.

I always puck for 20 minutes against the wall with the earphones on the day before a game. I always stay going until I know my touch is 100 percent. When I felt it was, I just sat down out the back and stared across towards the Cliffs of Moher, visualising what I wanted to do the following day.

Catching balls. Tackling. Scoring. Winning.

I always have a routine of watching mundane shows the night before a game. So I stuck on ‘Person of Interest’ a series around a mysterious reclusive billionaire computer programmer named Harold Finch.

When that was done, I put on ‘Up for the Match’. I don’t think many players would the night before an All-Ireland final, but that stuff never bothers me in the slightest. I’m not superstitious. I knew I was never going to watch it back so why not watch it now for the craic?

I gave up on it at about 10.40 and hit the sack. It was a little later than normal but I felt really chilled out. And slept like a log.

Sunday, 5.50am

I set my alarm for that time, got up and had a shower with eucalyptus drops. I had my oats and coffee on the couch before flooring a few bottles of water. I left Liscannor at 6.30 and pulled into Lahinch a few minutes later to see if there might be a coffee shop open. What was I thinking? The whole county was in Dublin, or was heading there.

I picked up Fitzy in Inagh on the way around 7am but the main reason I left so early was because I always call into the home house in Spancilhill before I get on the bus. Mam would kill me if I didn’t get the holy water and the blessings from her. I’d already got that spray of God’s juice in Fitzy’s.

Donal, my boss, and his son Daithi collected us in the house, before picking up Cathal Malone at the West County, and dropping us to the bus in Clarecastle. We spent the journey talking about pouring concrete because Fitzy is building a house at the moment too.

The bus stopped off in Kiltullagh and Kinnegad on the way up for a toilet break before we arrived at the Clayton hotel near the airport around 11am. We had our food, chicken and pasta and pancakes, but I never eat much the day of a game. I eat like a horse the day beforehand to make sure I I have all my carbs digested because I want to feel light for the match.

After going for a rub, we went outside the hotel for a few pucks before Brian Lohan briefly spoke to us and then the Garda escort took us into Croke Park. Although it was the biggest day of my sporting career, I never overthink things too much. 

The day didn’t feel that different. My only pre-match routine is I put Vicks on the front of my jersey. I’m not superstitious. I never get too worked up. Travelling to Australia changed me a lot that way. 

Hurling means everything to me but I realised out in Australia that there is a lot more to hurling too. That perspective has taken a lot of pressure off my shoulders. If people are criticising me or giving out about how I am playing, I honestly couldn’t care. I’m just a happy, smiley person, no matter what. Very little really fazes me. I knew I was ready to go. Ready to do whatever was needed to be done for us to win.

The backs and forwards met in separate groups around the dressing room to firm up on a few tactical setups. All of us gathered in the dressing room together. Brian had his say. Tony had the last word. Two collective deep breaths and out we went, into an orb of light, hit by a wall of noise and colour.

Electric.

Sunday, 3.57pm

There were 27 minutes gone in the half and I remember thinking, ‘We haven’t played anywhere near our potential yet and we’re still right in this game’. I knew we had a huge chance. I knew that if we turned it on that we would get over the line.

When the match was a draw at the break, half-time was all about resetting. Brian told me to stay inside full-forward and that we were going to try and few crash puckouts. I knew my job. I knew who I needed to get the ball to, to make sure who we got on the ball most.

I have hurled with Tony for so long that he is effortless to find. His runs are unbelievable. You’d nearly see him out of the corner of your eye and know where he is going to be, which means that you can try and make the ball break in a certain way for Tony.

That doesn’t even mean having to get a flick – you can force your man over that way so that he is going to be pushing the ball in that direction even if I don’t win that contested aerial ball.

The scores were coming but Cork were going nowhere. I kept going until I couldn’t go anymore. It’s just part of the process – next man up. You just want to make sure that we have as much energy on that field as possible to win the game, no matter what.

You just do what you have to. Everything is positive. Negativity is a disease. We didn’t close out the match in normal time but everybody was very relaxed in the dressing room. The energy was lifting out of the place. We knew there was more in us.

We were convinced we were going to win.

Sunday, 5.54pm

When Johnny Murphy blew the final whistle, I was like Lazarus – all the energy shot back into my legs. I sprinted onto the pitch, changing direction about four times. When I spotted Tony on the ground, I jumped on top of him and told him that I loved him.

Then I thought, ‘Where is Ryan Taylor?’ We always try and find each other after matches. When I eventually found Ryan and hugged my club-mate, it really was the stuff of dreams. It didn’t even feel real. It still doesn’t.

Normally, I’m an anxious person when it comes to time – I just love to keep going. When I’m out for food in a restaurant, I nearly want to be gone as soon as I’ve eaten, even though Aoife could only be halfway through her meal. I’m usually the same in the dressing room after games, win or lose, I’m gone out the door light lightning.

This time I wasn’t going anywhere. I could have stayed in Croke Park until midnight. We all could. A group of us sat down in the field, trying to take it all in. We were struggling to comprehend what we had done. Wow. Overwhelmed and euphoric. Every minute, every second, was just precious. Golden.

The dressing room was just the purest form of satisfaction. You can’t describe the elation, it’s like a warm happiness that just courses through your bloodstream. Hugs. Embraces. Photos. Smiles. Shaking your head in disbelief. And sticky jerseys. Some lads were throwing water around the place but Ian Galvin was spraying Club Energise like a hose.

On a trip to Split last year, Davy Fitz picked up a pack of these luxury cigars. He said to Tony and John (Conlon) that we’d smoke them when we won an All-Ireland. Fitzy had them in his bag so Tony, John, SOD (Shane O’Donnell) started puffing on them in the corner. How sweet was that?

As soon as the smoke started wafting into the air, the rest of the lads gathered around us. We felt like Kings. Lords of the land we’d just gloriously conquered.

Monday, July 22

The banquet was everything you wanted and hoped it would be. Just class. It was special to be there with my parents and brothers, and Aoife’s family. I didn’t get to bed until 4.30. I’d have had no issues with staying up all night but I knew it was going to be a long week and that I needed at least a few hours rest.

I’d say I only got one, maybe two. I was awake not long after 6.30. As soon as I opened my eyes, I could feel myself smiling. 

I jumped up and grabbed the speaker for my phone, selected a random Spotify playlist with massive dance hits. I didn’t have the sound turned up loud because I didn’t want to wake anyone in the rooms around us but that dance music reflected how I was feeling – never more alive in my life.

Aoife and I ordered breakfast in the room after 8 before I went downstairs to join the lads for a coffee. It’s surprising how many lads were downstairs by that stage. You think that everyone will be sleeping in after such a long day and night but nobody really does. You just can’t.

I had said to Aoife the night before that one of the things I was looking forward to most on the Monday was going to Temple Street Hospital. It was one of the highlights of the whole weekend. 

It makes you appreciate how lucky you are but bringing the Liam MacCarthy to those kids, and seeing how much it means to them and their parents, is both humbling and inspiring.

Winning an All-Ireland means everything but, as players, you soon realise just how much that emotion and effect spreads beyond the group. You see that right across the day, from the bus journey home, into Bunratty, onto Shannon, back into Clarecastle. 

Seeing 40,000 people welcome you back in Ennis would make your heart burst open with joy and pride, but one of the real high points for me was the open-top bus spin from Clarecastle over to the Fairgreen.

Everybody who loves hurling is already at the Fairgreen. 

The people who are only beginning to understand it, many from different backgrounds, are those standing on the side of the street, some individually, coming out of their houses or waving out of their windows. They don’t really know what is happening but they know something big just has. 

There is a kind of innocence there that makes it even more special again for me to realise that we have touched them in some small way, that what we have done has impacted almost every single person in our county.

After the homecoming event, we went back to the Temple Gate hotel, before heading on to Taylors bar at around 2am. We didn’t leave until close to 7. I could have stayed in the Temple Gate but myself, Mark Taylor, Ryan’s older brother, and Diarmuid O’Connor got a taxi back to Spancihill.

We just waved down a taxi on the side of the road. He was a guy originally from India who was wearing a Clare jersey. He told us how he had already brought a number of the Clare lads home. He had a hurley in the car, which he got us to sign. When he dropped us to my home place in Spancilhill, he wouldn’t take a cent from us. Class.

As soon as I got in the door, I collapsed into bed. I needed some shut-eye for what was coming. Ballyea on Tuesday. Tulla, Feakle, Scarriff and Clonlara on Wednesday. Inagh, Miltown-Malbay and Lahinch on Thursday. Quin in my own parish on Friday. The Eire Óg clubhouse in Ennis on Friday night.

Elation and ecstasy at every turn. The time of our lives. The days of our lives. The most special week imaginable, like a dream you just don’t want to wake up from. Except it’s real.

Beautifully real.