AND SO it came to pass that the epic Munster-Leinster clash was just an average Friday in Limerick city. Thirsty mobs did not descend in fleets of mini-buses. Hotels were not booked out.
The atmosphere in the city centre was pleasant. Vast hordes did not materialise. Coming up to the magic hour of six o’clock, the “queue” outside the famous South’s pub comprised four genial gentlemen from Lixnaw, Co Kerry, who actually disagreed with the special licence.
“The pubs should be kept closed on Good Friday”, said Frank Quilter. “I’m glad the Limerick crowd got the exemption but the timing is all done to please Murdoch and the television crowd.” As he spoke, a little ceremony was proceeding, presided over by the deputy mayor of Limerick, Jim Long; a whistle was blown, a countdown to six o’clock, a muted cheer and the pub was declared open. After about 15 minutes, David Hickey, the owner, estimated a crowd of about 120, in a pub with a capacity of about 200. “Average for a Friday evening”, said customer, Pat Shanahan.
There was similar order in Clohessy’s pub, which had opened for food at 3pm, and moved smoothly into alcohol sales at 6pm. “There won’t be any ceremony. We don’t want to be rubbing people’s noses in it”, Peter Clohessy said.
They settled for a blast of The Final Countdownfrom the sound system and a hooter marking the start of beer time. There was no rush for the bar. "The queue was rather less than for the National Concert Hall", remarked a Leinster woman.
Out at the Ardhu Bar, a short walk from Thomond Park, a huge crowd was being catered to by an outdoor bar. This is where much of the projected mini-bus invasion should have landed. Thirty minutes before the match, the only invasion was conspicuous little pockets of Leinster fans, nervous but standing their ground among the teeming Reds.
Their nervousness was unfounded: a point rather than a pint saw Leinster run out winners by 16-15.
