Irish people are said to be prone to a psychological condition called Seasonal Adjustment Depression (SAD) brought on, it is thought, by a shortage of sunshine in the deep winter months...

A similar sort of malady is inclined to afflict serious GAA supporters around this time of year, as the climactic hype of the All-Ireland finals gives way to a desperate rush by county boards to get their club championships out of the way. At least in the old days, the imminent commencement of the National Leagues helped provide a soft landing on the run-in to Christmas after which the stretch in the evening and its promise of the coming of spring helped keep the adrenalin from freezing over altogether.

Now, with the banishment of the National Leagues to the "calendar year", the fanatical follower is left staring into the abyss even before October is upon us. The increased profile of the provincial club championships and the advent of tertiary competitions such as the rather whimsical Southeast League do provide some diversion, but hardly adequate compensation. Things have been made worse this year by the hype added to the football championship by the new losers’ group structure and the fact that, almost unheralded, this year’s hurling championship was (if one excuses the insipid carry-on in Leinster) one of the best ever. No game in Munster was won by more than three points. One of the quarter finals was won with virtually the last puck of the game. One semi-final went to a replay and the other produced the best hurling performance of the year. The final was also a splendidly competitive affair.

To be plunged from these giddy heights to Junior B finals played in fading light borders on cruelty. Up and down the country, entire families dread Sundays, as the man of the house sits motionless in the corner of the room staring wistfully into the distance, totally oblivious to offers of tea and Sunday roast, and requests to take the dog for a walk or visit the in-laws. Mass suicide might be the order of the day were it not for the one bright spark of inspiration provided by the marvellous TG4’s live broadcasting of county finals.

There was a time when the GAA recoiled with horror at the prospect of any of their games being televised live. It wasn’t just that the box in the corner was the creation of the devil, sent to undermine the moral fibre of the Irish people which it was the bounden duty of this Great Assoosheeayshun of Ours to defend. Much worse, sure why would anyone bother their arse to go to a match when they could watch it in the comfort of their own homes (or, God forbid, in a local pub behind closed doors during the Sunday holy two hours). The only games that could avoid this fate were the All-Ireland finals and, accordingly, these were the only ones which were broadcast live. Now we have every class of game being televised, the country hasn’t degenerated into a spiritual cesspit, and attendances everywhere are up (boosted, undoubtedly and ironically, by the hype attending live coverage).

Now for the first time, hurling followers are able to judge the standard of club hurling in other counties against that of their own, and are able to put colours to the names of far-off places such as Clarenbridge. The current series got off to a limp enough start when a rejuvenated St. Joseph’s Doora Barefield toyed with an insipid Sixmilebridge, although a late surge by the latter did provide a diverting enough finale. The Kilkenny final was even more one-sided, but at least the neutral observer had the consolation of seeing history being made, as O’Loughlin Gaels captured their first title with an admirable fighting display. This game really proved the old adage that the team with attitude gets the breaks, as points rained over the Graigue Ballycallan crossbar from all sorts of impossible angles and positions.

However, the level of entertainment reached new heights with last Sunday’s mesmerising Galway decider. As in the Kilkenny final, it was a case of the challengers getting stuck in while the hot favourites found it hard to raise a gallop – apart from Sean Donoghue, who seemed to be playing Clarenbridge all on his own in the first half. Yet, despite the ‘bridge’s apparent dominance, were it not for Eugene Cloonan’s wayward shooting, there would have been little enough in it at half-time. It appears that Clarenbridge allowed their early flurry of scores to go to their heads, and began shooting for scores from all sorts of low-percentage positions.

Athenry clearly came out for the second half with choice words from Pat Nally burning their ears, and a couple of handy goals by Moran and Rabbitte had us all nodding in recognition of normal service being resumed. Sure, isn’t it the hallmark of all great teams that they can play badly and still survive? But Clarenbridge, to give them their dues, were having none of it. They upped their game to a higher level and gave a super exhibition of how to spoil opponents with driving play which Ireland’s rugby forwards would have been proud of. They generally kept their heads and didn’t allow a couple of bad misses get them down. Even Darragh Coen, not unknown for a tendency to bottle it under pressure in the past, maintained his poise and his freetaking accuracy. While the final whistle was greeted with delirious relief by the Clarenbridge hordes, it will also have brought a welcome smile from would-be contenders for the All-Ireland Club title in other counties. No doubt the St. Josephs Doora Barefield mentors are already pleased that they will not have to face the prospect of a change of jerseys should they end up taking on the Galway champions.