All-Ireland SHC Final/Kilkenny v Limerick:Age has not wearied Brian Cody or dulled his appetite for the spoils, writes Keith Duggan
Closing in on eight years now and there is no evidence that the mask will ever slip. Almost a full decade in Cody country and there is no sign that the big, soft-spoken, rose-coloured man is anything more or less than raptorial in his ambition for Kilkenny hurling.
The whole country has grown accustomed to Brian Cody on the sideline, round-shouldered and thickening but still recognisable to the middle-aged generation as the long, lissom stickman of yesteryear, sometimes lost in the game, sometimes smouldering in anger.
And on four victorious September Sundays we have borne witness to the few seconds of extravagance that he permits himself, when he loses himself in the immediate, transcendent joy of the victory, the championship, a man in black-and-amber peaked cap performing a kind of Sioux sun dance of fulfilment. By the time the television people have reached him, the composure has returned and Cody is modest, thankful and proud. He is reserved and ultimately unknowable.
Tomorrow, Cody will attempt to manage Kilkenny to a fifth All-Ireland title in eight seasons, a staggering period of success in modern Gaelic sport and dynastic even by Marble County standards. It will be the county's eighth All-Ireland final under Cody, just those two thundering, epochal semi-final defeats to Galway preventing his teams from marching to every decider since 1999.
Throughout that time, he has guided Kilkenny through the controversial departures of several highly regarded forwards. He was intransigent in his demotion of Charlie Carter in what was to have been the Young Ireland man's celebratory year of county captaincy.
He was equally unsentimental in the diminishing roles of Brian McEvoy and Andy Comerford, the 2003 All-Ireland winning captain. He permitted Denis Byrne, another highly regarded black-and-amber captain to defect, out of frustration, to Tipperary. He ignored calls to hasten the end of DJ Carey's career, and under Cody the great tricks merchant and flair hurler of the modern age was allowed to show he could flourish in September. He enabled John Power, the flame-haired farmer from John Lockes, to enjoy a glorious twilight. Last year, he persisted with young Aidan Fogarty at corner forward and was rewarded with a man-of-the-match performance that was central to denying Cork their three All-Ireland titles in a row. Fogarty was man of the match last year; he may not start tomorrow.
Cody has shaped three distinctive teams in his period as manager. It seems like a terribly long time ago now since the hurling world was raving about the dream full forward line of Shefflin and Carey and Carter. Cody hated that hot talk, with its implication Kilkenny were simply too good to lose, and he did his best to pour cold water on it.
It was as though the famous sting that Galway managed in 2001 was the price Kilkenny had to pay for other people's hubris. Then came the emphasis on physique and effort and winning-your-own-patch for the 2002 and 2003 championship years. It was no-frills hurling, almost Protestant in its directness and overwhelming sense of team purpose.
That period ended when Donal O'Grady's lighter, faster team literally left the Cats behind in the 2004 final. If the following year's madcap semi-final defeat, 5-18 to 4-18, to Galway was Cody's most frustrating and darkest season, then last year must have been his brightest.
In his playing days, Cork were the county he faced in All-Ireland finals most often, and unlike the rather lopsided 2000 victory over a great if aging Offaly team or the superior depth and strength that cushioned the All-Ireland championship win over Clare in 2002, last year's All-Ireland final was weighted with historical significance.
Had Cork won for three years running, it would have represented an indelible stain on Cody's legacy. But they did not. Noel Hickey put in a venomously complete hour at full back, the light and sinewy James Fitzpatrick was peerless at midfield and Fogarty was the ace in the pack. Kilkenny looked dauntingly strong.
Through all that, Cody has been boss. You will search hard for a catchphrase or a careless observation or anything even resembling a boast. Cody has never denied the virtuosity of the players at his disposal but has always preached the same doctrine of hard work and togetherness and fighting spirit and has always been genuine in his insistence Kilkenny teams respect opposition teams. That is why they blow so many teams away.
It is clear that Cody, a teenage All-Ireland senior finalist back in 1973, has a profound respect for the legacy of Kilkenny hurling but he has never been one for harping on the past.
When he sat down in a dim corner of the room in Langton's hotel one Monday evening in late August, he smiled inscrutably when the gathered press men (Cody has a fine line in dry wit and as his guests took their places around him he murmured, "the crème de la crème") asked him to reminisce about old battles with Richie Bennis, the Limerick boss who has reacted to this marvellous hurling summer like a hippy transported back to Woodstock.
"I played against him, yeah," Cody told the circle. "Marking man to man? I did, yeah."
"Did he get the better of you?" someone asked.
Cody stared at the table as if summoning those 30-year-old battles and paused just long enough to ensure his succinct answer was heard.
"Nah."
Those around the table laughed and Cody continued: "Look, we played the 1973 All-Ireland and Richie had a great success that year. Richie Bennis was a great hurler. But I have a very poor memory going backwards. I prefer to stay where I am. But that match did take place. Kilkenny had serious injuries going into the game but that happens. And Limerick came with phenomenal drive to bridge the gap since their last All-Ireland. Richie and I played that day. It was Richie's day. The following year, Kilkenny beat Limerick. I don't think even last week's match matters. It is something to talk about but that is as far as it goes."
It is hard to believe Cody has a poor memory, hard to believe the R Bennis of 30 years previously did not become an apparition in the dining-room in Langton's. Cody made his league debut against Bennis and Limerick. He was 19 and played at left half back, having won minor medals with St Kieran's in 1971 and captained the county minors to the All-Ireland championship in 1972 in the number-six jersey. That All-Ireland final loss was his first serious setback.
When Kilkenny avenged their loss to Limerick in 1974, Cody was on the bench. He recovered, of course, winning his first senior medal and an All-Star at left corner back in 1975. It is highly likely he has retained vivid memories of that Limerick vintage. But it is also probably true he believes they do not matter a whit in terms of tomorrow's final.
Cody has always been impatient when answering questions about legacy and potential greatness - once in the dressing-room at Nowlan Park he looked genuinely shocked when a novice reporter asked if Kilkenny A and Kilkenny B were the best two teams in Ireland (he bluntly declared he would not answer such a question).
His genius has been to translate his own ability to enjoy championship victories until the arrival of the new season, when it is as if they are erased from the subconscious.
"I don't know, to be honest," he said carefully when asked if Kilkenny are better now that last year. "Ah, it's hard to say. We would like to think we are better than last year. But I never really think it's about that. I always think it's about are you better on the day. It does not matter if you are viewed as a great team or an ordinary team; it's about what you do when the match is on and if you are capable of doing the business. How we are rated does not bother me. What we are interested in is winning championships. To do that, you have to win matches.
"So it is the ability to go in there and win the game. The Galway game was there to win; it was up for grabs and it was encouraging the way we finished. What was more encouraging from my point of view was how we fought to stay in that position."
The abiding image of that absorbing and ultimately imperious win over Ger Loughnane's primed team was that of Tommy Walsh visibly pumped up. The ferocity of the Kilkenny competitive instinct has been the constant of Cody's teams. And of tomorrow's match he had this to say.
"They (Limerick) will have huge hunger. Why wouldn't they? They don't have the medal that is up for grabs on Sunday. Their players are good enough to win it but haven't yet. But I would be amazed if they outfight us because the hallmark of our team is that we will fight and keep fighting. We will have the same hunger. That is a guarantee. I would say we are a very honest team. We do work hard.
"That is what it's about. The last 10 minutes can put a gloss on the game but it is how you play for the rest of the game . . . You can be blown away at any stage of a game. It is how you react when things are going bad. And we are decent at doing that because we work hard."
Honest graft, though, seems like an insufficient explanation of Kilkenny's omnipotence. That the Cats have a fear of bold talk is well known. Six players appeared at the official media evening in Langton's and they controlled each question as deftly as they would a sliotar, handing back polite and perfectly coherent answers that paid handsome dues to Limerick and were devoid of any inflammatory, revelatory - or, for the most part, interesting - content.
But that is the Kilkenny prerogative. And it doesn't really matter whether or not we learn if Cody and Henry Shefflin are friendly in the sense of sinking pints together after these defining Sundays or if their common cause begins and ends with Kilkenny hurling.
It doesn't matter whether or not we know if Cody likes to listen to Jimi Hendrix or is a regular visitor to the Kilkenny omniplex. But it is natural that there would be curiosity there. In many ways, Cody is as compelling as his old college friend Ger Loughnane, if only because the longer Cody resides over Kilkenny the more reserved he becomes.
He has always kept his counsel, never publicly commenting on controversies, including the shameful treatment he received from a minority of Kilkenny fans after his performance, in the experimental role of full forward, was singled out as a chief reason for the county's failure to beat Cork in the All-Ireland final of 1978.
The rumour that he was subjected to the base affront of a stranger's spit was borne out by his teammate Mattie Ruth in the Kilkenny Voice newspaper this week, as was the suggestion that Cody silenced his antagonist four years later in Langton's hotel the night after he captained Kilkenny to All-Ireland glory in 1982.
"It was an awful time for him," Ruth remarks in the Voice. "An awful time. But maybe it was the making of Brian, left him to go his own way."
Cody had won his second club All-Ireland title with James Stephens that March and celebrated his second All-Star that autumn, a fine response to the hurt of being dropped from the county panel altogether after the 1978 fiasco.
In retrospect, Cody's playing life seems like one remorseless haul of glittering hurling prizes, from his school days through to that triumphant second coming. But there must have been plenty of disappointment and anger and detachment in between.
Cody came to Kilkenny management as something of a beginner, with no underage record and just a single county final appearance (a defeat to Young Irelands) to his credit. Kilkenny had not won the All-Ireland title in five years and would lose to Cork by a single point in his first year.
In the next six years, Kilkenny would lose just four championship matches. Brian Cody says he savours every Sunday. He says management does not remotely compare to the thrill of playing.
"I just believe in doing what you do at the time. Playing hurling is no longer a possibility so this is the only thing I can do right now. Would I have stopped playing if I could help it? No way. Out there, there is nothing to touch it. But there is nothing to touch what I am doing now either because this is all I can do."
He says he has never felt stale or exhausted at the demands of the job or fretted over the truth that confronts all coaches sooner or later: that what they said sounds familiar and jaded.
"Wondering was there any point in me opening my mouth?" he grinned, amused at the thought of same-voice syndrome.
"No, I haven't felt at any stage what is the point of doing this. When you are you there and you are on the line and you are staring defeat in the face, it is a brutal feeling. But no, I have never felt as if it has been a chore.
"With the players we have, they are hugely motivated and genuine and the hunger for success is a constant with them. It is from within themselves and it is a county thing too - there is a huge passion for hurling in Kilkenny and a huge ambition for hurlers. You get a limited time to do that."
Eight years now and Cody is moving into the pantheon of great, towering GAA managers and there is no sign we will ever see through the granite front of the hurling man.
And in Kilkenny, it is reported, they have marble stones there as black as ink . . .
