Mostly Hurling:Right. In the Liam McCarthy competition there are eight teams left out of 12 after all those hurling games so far, writes John Allen.

We've had some really good contests involving teams from Munster, and all the same Munster sides are still involved.

Of the teams left, two have no chance of ultimate glory - sorry, Wexford and Clare.

That does not mean Wexford won't beat Tipperary or Clare won't beat Limerick, but I cannot see them going any further.

I cannot see Galway or Tipperary in Croke Park in September either, particularly given they are both on the Kilkenny side of the draw. But we all know there's many a slip twixt cup and lip.

Current form is, however, the yardstick we are using to arrive at these present, debatable predictions.

Of the four remaining teams, only Limerick have climbed the ladder, replacing Galway/Tipperary in the early-season prognostications.

I have no personal animosity with either Clare or Wexford. In the Slaneysiders' case I just don't think they have a good enough team at present. John Meyler has done a good job, but he hasn't enough top-quality players to pick from. Clare did really well to beat Galway but Limerick, on current form, are better.

Will Limerick turn the tables on Waterford if they meet again? Will Waterford finally overcome the Rebels in the All-Ireland series? More thought and analysis are needed before answering those questions.

I was taken to task by some Waterford fans recently over comments I made on a Radio One Sunday-evening sports show on the day of the Munster final. I'm sorry if I came across badly. I was trying to analyse the game critically but was not given time. A minute to analyse a game like that is hardly enough.

(The programme seems more interested in soundbites than analysis. There are way too many managers, past managers and pundits on in far too little time. If I'm asked to go on again I'd say I'll be looking for a sick note from my mother.)

So much for that digression.

So that leaves four teams in contention. And in assessing those I will use the captains as my next point of departure.

Of the four only one has a captain that can be called a legend. He is, of course, Henry Shefflin. How do we define a legend in hurling terms? I think he has to have played at the top level for at least 10 years. He has to have been a star player for most of those years. In recent history, names like Anthony Daly, DJ Carey, Brian Whelahan, Brian Corcoran, Ger Cunningham, Seánie McMahon, Brian Lohan, Nicholas English, Ger Henderson and George O'Connor would fit the category.

Henry fits right in there in terms of awards won and years played (well almost). But he has not captained his team to All-Ireland glory yet. I believe a great player like Shefflin is destined to achieve this honour. Fate has it written in stone for him.

And now for another digression.

There's a story told of Frank, a young, unemployed man living in New York in the 1950s. His friend Leroy comes home from the hospital one day to tell him there's a job as a porter going there.

Frank goes in, arranges an interview, impresses and is offered the position.

"You might fill out this form and we'll get you on the books," says the interviewer.

Frank reluctantly takes the form and sits there looking at the manager.

"Is there a problem?" asks the manager.

"Not really," answers Frank. "It's just that I can't read or write."

Of course the astonished boss has to inform him he cannot now offer him the position, because it entails reading signs on doors and signing forms.

Clearly sorry for Frank, he reaches into a desk drawer, produces a box of best Havana cigars and hands it to Frank as a kind of consolation or runner-up prize.

On his way home Frank passes the shoeshine boy at the corner of the street, which gets him thinking. He finds a pitch at the next corner and starts selling the cigars one by one. With the profits he buys another box or two more from the tobacconist on Christopher Street.

Through rain and hail he carries on a thriving business for several years.

Then one day he sees a "for sale" sign on the tobacconists. He goes to the estate agent, who informs him it can be had for half-a-million dollars.

The following day Frank makes his first visit to the bank manager. He wants to buy the tobacconists but has no money in the bank and needs a loan.

The manager tells him he cannot possibly give him all that money without collateral.

Having enquired as to the meaning of "collateral", Frank opens the shoebox he carries everywhere and brandishes three-hundred-thousand dollars.

The manager smiles and takes out the forms. Frank smiles back and tells him he is illiterate so cannot sign the forms.

"No problem, but imagine," says the manager, "that you made that much money selling cigars at the corner of the street and you cannot even read or write.

"Imagine if you could read and write where you'd be at right now."

"Yes," replies Frank, "if I could read and write I'd be one of the porters in Mount Sinai Hospital."

End of digression.

So I guess the plan is all predetermined.

Mind you, our friend William Shakespeare doesn't agree - "It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves" - which all means, I suppose, there's hope for the rest of the teams and Kilkenny have to keep training, just in case.