Does anyone remember the day that a plane landed in Wexford park? Neither do I, but my Da does. He was there, with my Grandad, Nick Roche who was park-keeper there for donkey’s years. What I have is memories of crepe-paper hats, flags on bamboo sticks and being lifted over the stiles in Croker to see what turned out for me to be a twenty-year build up to 1996. I remember Tony Doran plucking sliotars out of the air from what seemed about 30 feet up, George O’Connor’s dashing (and dashing moustache), and I’ll never, ever forget the sight of Fitzy running the length of the pitch to bury a 21-yard free in to the back of the net against Limerick to give us the win.

As Springsteen once said, glory days.