Watching last weekend’s epic All-Ireland semi-final, it’s hard to agree.

Surely such a momentous occasion achieved both.

As a contest, it had absolutely everything you could ask for; even more than drama and even more than skill, it brimmed with character.

Former Clare manager Tony Considine described it as “pure man-to-man hurling, the game played as it should be… real raw hurling”.

And he was right. It was magnificent.

In that context, it seems churlish to dedicate column inches to quibbling over rules.

Such was the degree to which questions regarding the laws of the game were raised, it merits discussion though.

To begin with, had a player been sent off the game may very well never have reached the pitch it ultimately arrived at. Much of what made it the thrilling spectacle it was were the hooks, the blocks, the chasing down, the hunting in packs.

When Declan Hannon put Joey Holden on his arse with a thundering shoulder as the rain cascaded down in biblical proportions, not a single Limerick man feared drowning should Croker flood. A rising tide lifts all boats.

When, not long after, the Cats had shot holes in Treaty bows and held their heads under water, their effort was at least the equal of Limerick’s earlier in the game.

Had a man been removed from either side, none of this drama might ever have unfolded.

That said, four should’ve walked. Or more accurately: two and another one, twice.

Pull or take hold an opponent’s helmet? Goodbye Tom Condon. Goodbye JJ Delaney.

Striking an opponent whether intentional or not; whether it injures or not? Goodbye Donal O’Grady; if not the first time, then the second.

It might be harsh, but these things are usually harsh until such time as serious injury is caused. At that stage, it’s usually known as a disgrace.

How any of the above decisions, or lack thereof, can be justified to high priest McEnaney is hard to determine. James McGrath must be plastered to the Westmeath equivalent of the Blarney Stone at present.

But for all that, not a single player complained to any great degree having fallen foul to the above.

It was, as Considine put it, real raw hurling. It was hurling at its best; hurling and its expert practitioners ruling themselves with a kind of quasi-Gaelic omertà.

It was brilliant but someday it might not.

To rule by the book or with common sense is an age-old question. This week it remains as unanswered as ever.