There is a lot wholly uninspiring about the senior inter-county hurling championships at present, particularly in the southern province with quite sobering attendances at the three Munster SHC games played so far this summer.

Hurling may be the fastest field sport in the world but its mystique has diminished for supporters, or so the numbers through the turnstiles would indicate.

25, 531 souls arrived at Semple Stadium on Sunday seeking inspiration.

Yet, aside from the creation and execution of Tipperary’s third goal by the McGraths, John and Noel, and Seamus Callanan, patrons had to settle for a whole pile of perspiration.

While exiting the Thurles venue after Cork essentially pulled in to the hard shoulder allowing Ryan’s men to overtake them I overheard three teenagers, two wearing Cork jerseys and the other donning Tipperary colours, reflecting flippantly on what they had seen.

One of the Leesiders piped up: “That was bloody hard to watch”.

Obviously, you would expect such sentiments from a supporter of a side that were soundly disposed of in a fixture of such standing.

Nevertheless, the response from the local in blue and gold was revealing. It has stuck vividly in my mind since.

“Jees lads I’m not so sure what the fuss is about the Munster championship,” before adding, “is it really as magical as they say? I’ve not seen a really ‘magical’ game in Thurles, or any other venue in Munster for that matter, that justifies all this fuss. Talk about rose-tinted glasses.”

After I heard this the next while was spent trying to counter their argument in my head by recalling a really brilliant Munster championship game in the last few years.

It proved a fruitless exercise.

Isn’t that a sad state of affairs? Oh how we long for the days of years past. During my late teenage to early adult years the Cork-Waterford rivalry was very much en vogue.

Trend-setters of a bygone era.

Even Tipperary-Cork clashes in the noughties had a distinctive bite about them.

I remember one year standing on the Blackrock End Terrace with a cast on my right leg and crutches in each hand. Madness, really, when you think about it.

But then, you daren’t miss that fixture at the time because iconic moments were never far away. And you wanted to be there to witness them.

Of course, later, in 2008, it was on that very occasion the gasps were audible all over the old ground as Eoin Kelly swivelled on a sixpence and rocked the net we were pitched up behind.

I can still see Kelly’s movement in that play - the grace of a ballet dancer on the turn and the power of a juggernaut out of it as he sprung a bolt of lightning from his hurl beyond Dónal Óg. Mesmerising.

Everybody’s opinions are different, obviously, but has there been any truly memorable moments or clashes in the Munster championship in the last three, four or five seasons?

Eoin Edwards of the Irish Examiner made an interesting point: ‘Is it a case we are so distracted by the world around us we don’t truly appreciate the likes of the Munster Championship nowadays? People have other priorities’.

Maybe socio-economic factors are playing a greater role on lower attendances than just the product on offer becoming more sterilised.

Regardless, Ger Loughnane was practically laughed off the stage for stating Kilkenny were a ‘functional’ side, recently.

However, maybe the undercurrent of his thesis holds more substance than he was given credit for at the time.

Of course, Kilkenny have slightly more about their collective than justifying attributing the term ‘functional’ to them. Just slightly, you’ll understand.

Still, what Loughnane was trying to say, as he later explained with much more logical references, was that the opposition are lacking the cutting edge required to puncture the chinks in Kilkenny’s armour.

Kilkenny’s greatest strength is their relentlessness.

That sickeningly admirable capacity to keep on keeping on despite snaring more medals than they have lost broken hurls since their underage days.

Maybe it’s a case that you really need to experience that degree of success to justify wanting even more of it.

It’s a twisted logic of sorts and yet makes perfect sense.

And if relentlessness is the Cats’ greatest strength, their most laudable is their aim to dispel the notions of others.

Cody and Kilkenny keep their competitors in their place and they make sure those competitors know their place. You have to absolutely adore that about them. After all, they are a credit to a code that has lost its way in ultra-competitive terms since the noughties.

In contrast, the performances of Cork, Limerick and, to a lesser extent, Clare in the southern provincial series this year have been franking the theory of those teenagers outside Tom Semple’s field.

Where has the fire and brimstone vanished to? It’s one thing lacking the qualities necessary to compete and prevail; It’s quite another when sides aren’t even bothered to throw the kitchen sink at their opponents to see if that derails their more illustrious nemeses.

Physically, it is possible Limerick were just not able to compete with a more developed Tipperary.

All the same, the paucity of their fight was damning. Limerick should have died with their boots on. Instead, they stumbled with even their socks unravelled to mere threads.

What must the likes of Ciarán Carey been thinking watching that display of startle for the wrong reasons?

As is said, though, Limerick aren’t the only transgressors against the Munster championship fate.

Therefore, is it any wonder the provincial champions have such a shoddy record in the All-Ireland series nowadays.

The bottom line is the standard has dropped and the victors are not being tested in the way they were even 10 years ago.

Not that Cody cares too much, mind.