For those left behind to fend for themselves, O'Connell Street provided the focus with its big screen, flashing lights and dancing masses.

Even the screen had been hyped to a high. Advertised as a giant 45m by 45m, it turned out to be a fraction of that size. Still, nobody was complaining and O'Connell Street was closed.

The city had never seen anything like it. Wise old sages cast their minds back through Munster's storied history, and deigned that the last time anything was as hyped as this was way back in April 2006, when the foe from the Pale was defeated.

And that hype begat this one.

These days, Munster is no longer a place, but a state of mind. Every Tom, Dick and Fionn has hauled himself aboard the bandwagon, including a few D4 clowns.

But in reality Munster is just Limerick with other bits added on across the deep south and that truth was evident on the streets yesterday.

Everywhere Limerick folk were togged out in the red jersey, adorned with the ancient kamikaze battlecry "TOYOTA". A few oddballs preferred an older battle cry, "Bank of Ireland", which is a term that could easily well up rage in thousands.

Anyway, if you couldn't be in Cardiff, Limerick was where it was at.

The team's journey over the last seven or eight years has yielded much, and one thing was the spectre of the open-air gathering for the match, hauling punters from darkened bars into the street while the clouds above debated the merits of raining on the party. By and large, they kept their distance.

In the build up, O'Connell Street was awash with red.

Even the august Augustinian Order just down the street was pledging God to the cause.

"The Augustinian community have decided that their church services on Saturday afternoon cannot compete with the Munster roar. Alternative arrangements have been made, " read the notice inside the oak doors.

On the street, the sun had come out, music was blasting from loudspeakers of a vintage last seen in the 1977 general election, and all was well.

Further down the street, loitering with intent, was RTE's Marty Morrissey, a great man to have in a tight corner when it comes to kicking the party off. The sun was out, all was well in the world, and suddenly the screen beamed pictures from Cardiff and we were off.

The next 80 minutes was a series of ohs and ahs and cheers and groans as the crowd roared on the team.

Emotions were held hostage as the game ebbed and flowed.

Hearts sank when Biarritz went over for a try soon after kick off. But the two tries with which Munster replied nearly lifted the roof off the sky. At half-time, the dream lived on.

And it all ended well, despite a second half of high tension, which rendered the huge Limerick crowd alternately mute and wildly vociferous.

The eruption in Limerick at the end was the sound of thousands of answered prayers. Maybe the Augustinians should have stayed open for business.