The Range Rover and horse-box arrayed as if for a state wedding told the story.
Like most great love stories, the long-running romance between Lily and Sam had had its problems - he'd been playing hard to get for the past 70 years, but Lily had demonstrated patience and conviction. And this time the elusive Sam had never been more eligible or obtainable.
The people of Kildare, this most horsy of counties, are well accustomed to betting and had faith in Micko's heroes. Kildare town, home of the skipper Glen Ryan, has easily sustained a carnival atmosphere.
The wedding motifs were dominant. No one was entertaining the possibility of Lil being jilted.
The white "champion mobile", a four-door saloon, which had been occupying a place of honour at the heart of the village of Rathangan, was driven to Croke Park yesterday by fans expecting to return in triumph. Horses being exercised on the Curragh during recent weeks have been sporting white. Even the most serious of equestrian types have acknowledged their county's footballing achievement.
The quiet country lanes had been infiltrated by large white teddies, some sitting on hedges, others strapped to roofs, dressed in Kildare strip, and with determined expressions.
Small children had adopted team shirts and several dogs had come to like wearing the white rosette attached to their collars. A stream of cars, the majority white, cruised the roads, white ribbons affixed to aerials; the most daring symbol on display was a long white silk stocking.
Long before kickoff time yesterday, the Curragh Racecourse carparks were as full as if for a major race meeting. Supporters came to take their places in the main stand. Many of them had followed their county's campaign around Ireland but couldn't get tickets for Croke Park on final day.
Out on the racecourse, a giant TV screen captured much of the atmosphere. Kildare scores were greeted with good humour rather than hysteria. The Kildare supporters enjoy their football. One man was dressed like Lawrence of Arabia and the sheikh was obviously a Kildare supporter.
A father and son appeared, dad carrying a plastic urn-like garden pot carefully wrapped in kitchen foil in imitation of Sam. The son seemed amused while dad seemed as serious as one entrusted with a sacred vessel. "If all else fails, that'll do grand", remarked a woman dressed as if for a nightclub.
Meanwhile, the sheep continued to graze, untroubled by the match commentary booming out over the Curragh on the racecourse public address system. A small child asked her father: "Am I from Kildare?" "Yes," he said. "But Mummy's not, she's only from Wexford." Mummy looked helpless.
In the second half, the atmosphere at Lawlor's Hotel in Naas had switched to philosophical resignation. By the full-time whistle, the carnival had ended in Kildare town. A girl at a newsagent in Monasterevin remarked: "What a difference a few hours makes."
