Many, many years ago, this column got its first close-up of a prize-fight, when assisting the old Daily Mirror scribe, Frank McGhee, from ringside at Wembley Convention Centre. McGhee scribbled his wisdom long-hand and this cub dictated it down a phone-line. At the time, John 'The Beast' Mugabi was just coming to the fore as a clubbing terrorist and, soon enough that night, he began wreaking terrible destruction on a young fighter directly above McGhee's head. When one punch landed flush on the bridge of the victim's nose, the contents of said nose descended with a plenary splat onto one of the hand-written scrolls. McGhee scarcely blinked at the trespass. Cub's legs turned soft as cooked linguini. You cannot simulate the effect of a heavy punch igniting in someone's face. Nor can you get used to it. The sound is always disturbing. A man's (or woman's) brain cannot, feasibly, be knocked about like a pin-ball without running serious threat of calamitous harm.

So you can understand the revulsion some people feel for boxing. Pro boxing especially. It's just too brutal to be comfortable. But what you cannot deny is the physical courage of the fighter. The manliness.
Take Robbie Murray. The guy's so pale and inoffensive-looking, one wag in the bleachers shouted 'C'mon Casper' while he was fighting a Welshman, Ceri Hall. It was a good line, but Murray wouldn't have much appreciated it when he hit the deck in round two, a geyser of blood rushing from his face. Yet, somehow, he fought back, dropping Hall in round six and edging the fight on points, his white shorts now cerise in colour.
Barrett had an equally troubled passage, taking a procession of venomous jabs from Lithuania's Oscar Milkitas that reduced his face to what Americans like to call 'a bust tomato can'. Through the fifth round, Francie actually looked in trouble. But his legs held and he got a pretty ropey hometown verdict in the end.
Anyway, too much blood for you with the morning muesli? Fine, we're finished. It's just this column believes that fighters are extraordinary people. That the questions they routinely ask of themselves are questions that most of us would run from.
Ask yourself this: What is it that you love in sport? What leaves you in thrall of its heroes? Skill? Indisputably. Mental strength? Absolutely. Bravery? Write it down.

THE hurling goalkeeper used to have a fairly straight-forward posting. He turned up on time, got a different-coloured jersey, made a few breath-taking saves and tried to flake the rims off the sliotar when pucking it out. This season that job description has changed: goalies like Damien Fitzhenry and Donal Óg Cusack are quarter-backing their teams, providing primary possession for forwards 80 yards away.

Then again, was it ever a matter of pucking the ball out with a big ignorant slap? Donal Óg himself plays down the tactical element of the puck-out "People talk about tactics, but I don't know if hurling is that kind of game" but concedes that definition of the terms may be an issue: "Is tactics all about playing to your strengths? If it is, then any goalkeeper in Ireland is going to play to his strengths."

Damien Fitzhenry echoes the Cork keeper's outlook: "I suppose up to a few years ago it was a case of hit and hope, you'd be trying to drive the ball as far as possible. Nowadays, though, teams play to their strengths more. "Generally a goalkeeper has 25 to 30 puck-outs in the course of a game, and each of those is a chance to dictate the play. If your team can win 60% of its own puck-outs then you're on the way to victory."

Tipp's star keeper Brendan Cummins shares that view: "When you think about it, a puck-out is a free shot, and in the modern game you can't waste possession. There's a lot more work in training sessions on tactics and signals for the puck-out," he says. "All of that's becoming more and more important. People don't realise the effort that goes into getting the goalkeeper and his half-forward line, in particular, to work on the same wavelength when it comes to the puck-out."

Cummins suggests that sometimes spectators may not be quite on that wavelength. "If you're up in the stands you can maybe see a wing-forward who has 30 or 40 yards of space in front of him, who's wide open. But there may be 16 players between that wing-forward and his goalkeeper. With that kind of crowd, as keeper you rarely get a good sight of the forward you're aiming at, so you're always looking for a nod from the forward, or for him to point.

"The forward's hoping you can see his signal, you're hoping you'll be accurate with the puck-out; there's a lot of hoping going on! That's where the hard work in training comes in, getting players to tune into each other." Some teams, of course, make you work that little bit harder than others. Cummins has talked in the past about the difficulties of finding his men when playing Kilkenny: "Playing against them you're looking at a line of big half-backs who are well able to catch the ball, so you're trying to place waist-high ball into your wing-forwards, which is pretty difficult."

Fitzhenry concurs "Who'd disagree with Brendan?" and outlines Wexford's strategy this year: "Apart from Tommy Walsh, who's well able to catch the ball, the Kilkenny backs are all big strong men and well able to hurl. It's very difficult to pick out your own men, because if you go low the Kilkenny half-forwards are tall enough to intercept the puck-out. "We decided to open the game up and switch the puck-outs to the wings, which worked well against Kilkenny. The only problem was that kind of tactic can be a bit of a one-day wonder; Cork saw what we'd done against Kilkenny and were ready. It's a tactic that doesn't necessarily work for you a second day."

Cummins acknowledges that Wexford effort against Kilkenny: "Nothing happens by chance in a championship game and you can be sure Wexford put a lot of work into that plan; they have relatively small forwards and their puck-outs had to find those forwards." It's not all one-way traffic, of course. Fitzhenry and Cummins have also admired the handiwork of their opposite number in black and amber. "Kilkenny have players like Martin Comerford, John Hoyne and Henry Shefflin in their half-forward line, all of them big men who are well able to win their own ball in the air," says Fitzhenry. "James McGarry probably has the best options in that regard; after all, if you're winning your puck-out by going long, then you'll keep going long."

Cummins goes even further: "When Kilkenny puck the ball out James McGarry doesn't just hit it downfield. He has good options in front of him, particularly when Henry Shefflin starts to drift to the right and John Hoyne comes into the centre. Those players aren't stationary when they catch the ball either, they're always on the move." Cummins and Fitzhenry have both played against Kilkenny's All-Ireland final opponents this year and the Wexford man admires the Cork custodian's deliveries: "I think Donal Óg Cusack is probably the most accurate keeper around from the puck-out. He'll be looking to get the ball upfield as quickly, but as accurately, as he can."