BOWLING: Patricia Devine, a coach with the United States bowling team, is having a breather outside. It's summer in west Dublin and the sun is beating down. Bizarre.
No wonder the natives, casting a distrustful eye heavenwards, armed with factor 20 in one hand, umbrellas in the other, are looking so bemused. It's June, it should be pouring.
That's what Patricia Devine expected, any way. "I brought all my rain gear with me, this isn't how it was supposed to be.
"Tell you what," she says, pointing at the cloudless sky, "somebody up there knows it's the Special Olympics, somebody up there knows what he's doing."
If there were clouds in the sky Devine, judging by her mood, would be taking a seat atop the ninth.
"I've never felt like royalty before in my life," says the Connecticut woman, who has worked in special needs for 18 years.
Queen for the day? "Yes," she laughs, "that's exactly how it feels, that's the way we've all been made to feel since we arrived in Ireland.
"You should all be very proud, and I mean that - you should ALL be very proud. The Games are wonderful, truly wonderful, but the people have just made it for us, all the way through."
"Our host town of Antrim was incredible, our team's memories of there will last forever, that was such a special time - I tell you what, if they had said 'the Games are cancelled and you have to stay here for the next week' there wouldn't have been a tear in the crowd.
"No one wanted to leave there, Antrim will be in our hearts forever. And ever. They made us all feel so special."
True enough, the Special Olympics are special. No matter how hard you try to retain the last helpings of world-weariness and cynicism in your soul they just fade away, their heads bowed with shame as they exit stage left.
Entering, stage right, is a man by the name of Johnny McShane, a native of Dunamanagh, Co Tyrone, a resident of Dublin. Special Olympics volunteer, Media Services, Leisureplex, Blanchardstown. One of the hundreds and hundreds of volunteers who have lit up these Games with their natural, unaffected warmth and kindness, efficiency and co-operation.
Johnny McShane? What do you do in your regular life? His expression reads: uncomfortable. C'mon Johnny McShane, spit it out. "Do I dare to say it," he says.
Go on. "I'm an . . . accountant." Silence. Graceless shifting of feet. Johnny's face says: "do you STILL want to talk to me". Well. . . profanities are exchanged. Then mobile phone numbers. Then it's back to the Special Olympics.
"The atmosphere has been absolutely . . . ah, I just can't explain it to be honest, it's just been overwhelming," he says.
"I've just enjoyed it so much. Ireland probably won't get this opportunity again, but I would love if they could all come back every year."
McShane, a special needs coach with South Dublin Sports Club in Templeogue, is one of those folk who makes you feel like a poor excuse for a human being, his enthusiasm is quite marvellous, his passion for the Special Olympics intense.
"For our own personal development it's fantastic, so many nationalities, so many languages, it just makes you appreciate it's a big world out there. The only problem we've had so far has been the overwhelming response, the number of spectators we've had coming - but that, of course, isn't a problem at all, the more the merrier."
"We've had media people from Australia, New Zealand, Japan, Britain, Venezuela, USA, every nationality really. Brilliant.
"But what I love the most about it all is the fact that, being from Northern Ireland, that Northern Ireland was incorporated in to the whole thing - the whole country has been involved, it's not just about Dublin. Makes it great. Just love it all, really," he says.
It's go, go, go at the Leisureplex. Barely time to snatch a word with Tramore's Brendan O'Brien, winner of a bronze medal for Ireland on Tuesday. "I'm enjoying it immensely," says the 56-year-old, "I trained hard, but I love it."
Time to go home. The Blanchardstown taxi driver has spent the week shuttling volunteers and families to and fro.
"You know what all this makes you feel like," he says, "like you're not alone, 'cos that's kind of how you feel in this country these days. It's nice. Hope it lasts. I think it will. Maybe we've found what we lost. I dunno."
