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31st July 2016
07:31pm BST
But as a player received treatment around the middle of the park, a screach was coming from the Canal End.
The stadium silenced for a minute to draw oxygen from the breathless drama Liam Kearns had served up for a second week running and Conor Sweeney stepped away from his man with intent and anger.
He was gesturing towards his manager. He wasn't happy. He was furious. And, double-digits between the sides or not, all of Croke Park could hear the Tipperary corner forward roaring manically towards the sideline: "Tell him to give me the f**king ball."
Sweeney had already scored two goals. Tipperary were already plain-sailing towards history but they had Galway by the throats and the Ballyporeen man wanted them dead and buried. The 26-year-old has standards and, when the ball is on, he wants it played.
When asked about it afterwards, as the players filtered one-by-one from the changing rooms into the lounge, laughing and messing, still embracing and savouring every last minute, Sweeney was still annoyed at the thought of the ball not being played.
"I remember it well," he said. "And I'll be saying to him again."
You could've picked out a dozen differences between Tipperary and Galway on Sunday but that was the moment that summed it all up.
That was the moment that made it abundantly clear that Tipperary were here to win a game of football and they were here fighting for a place in the All-Ireland semi-finals. No half-measures, no shortcuts, no hiding. And no bloody messing.
Galway? God knows what was going through their heads. Unfortunately for Damien Comer, he had to play with 14 other men and the rest of them didn't seem too bothered about the prize that was at stake. They shirked the idea of playing to win and they were strung up for it.
It was the most one-sided nine-point victory there has possibly ever been
Time and time again, Tipperary cut the Tribesman rearguard to merciless shreds and ran through flailing tackles like they weren't even there. The Connacht champions got 13 men behind the ball and Liam Kearns' side couldn't have cared less. Behind that wall of maroon were the posts and those posts were Tipperary's path to immortality.
Nothing but no-one was going to stop them coming through.
Goal chances came, goal chances went. Bernard Power was seeing no end of football and, after Conor Sweeney fisted past the Galway stopper for his county's third green flag, Tipperary only grew stronger. The kickouts they were already pushing up on to deadly effect were now being suffocated. Blue jerseys were actually standing in front of the opposition for their kicks and immense momentum was washing over the westerners like an unstoppable Atlantic tide.
Acheson, Hannigan, O'Halloran, Quinlivan, all these lads were plucking balls from mid-air and driving them straight back down the canal where Galway were drowning.
When Tipperary got a sniff of the semis, they transformed into blood-thirsty savages that went for it. They took their shot when it presented itself, they didn't hope for a mistake, a lucky break, or for someone else to do something. For an hour, they all became warriors that weren't afraid to die and, because of that, the county has never felt so alive.
When they went behind 0-4 to 0-1 after 15 minutes, Galway were playing serious football. But Tipp never wilted. They never feared. And they never stopped. 3-12 they hit to the other lot's 1-6 over that next period and the damage was done.
It was done because they wanted it done and they wanted to do it themselves.
It was done because they wanted to win.
It was done because Conor Sweeney wouldn't accept anything less. Not even when they were 11 points up.
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