He may not appeal to the old traditionalists, he may be too Beckhamesque in his image and celebrity profile, right down to the pop-singing girlfriend, he may not even be that good just yet, but somehow Gavin Henson is the embodiment of Welsh rugby's rebirth.
A belated hero for their new stadium in the new Millennium.
Needless to say, he was last down the steps from the dressing-room, well after his dress-suited team-mates, immaculately presented and quintessentially Gavin Henson, having kept the last clutch of journalists waiting until 7.30pm. The ground was empty, and outside the streets were already mayhem.
The gelled hair was pointing skywards, in opposite direction to the arrow-shaped sideburns. There have undoubtedly been more influential players in Wales's Grand Slam, and he's been as much style as content in this championship, but his long-range penalty against England had been the seminal moment in their campaign, and not just Welsh kids will pick up rugby balls because of this fella.
Refreshingly unreconstructed in his public utterings, he's engagingly candid and calls it as he sees it. Fear of failure doesn't even enter his mindset. "Coming to the ground through the streets gave us a massive buzz because of the crowds. Even the weather, when we woke up this morning, we just knew it was going to be our day. We were never going to lose today."
So when you asked him if injecting a high tempo, especially in the third quarter, was the key to Wales's 32-20, slam-clinching win, he commented: "It's been the key to all our games in the Six Nations. We thought Ireland might come here and slow the game down the way they try to do. We were conscious of trying to get (quick) taps going and just try to play an open and fast game as much as we can. They (Ireland) are quite an old side now, aren't they? Very experienced and a good team, but compared to our squad - we're quite a young team."
Once again Wales were hardly dominant up front, but the mobility and handling skills of their pack in tandem with their pacey backs were, predictably, beyond the remit of the Irish pack. For Ireland to have an earthly, they had to be precise. Like Cheltenham for the preceding four days, if you make mistakes against the best you'll be punished, and they made plenty.
But all the indications from this 2005 RBS Six Nations, and particularly against the new standard-bearers of the Northern Hemisphere game, is that Ireland are going to have to start changing with the times. With nine of this squad 30 or over, not only will there be an inevitable changing of the guard but Ireland will have to move on from the slower, setpiece, kicking game to a pacier, offloading, running game, especially with the 2007 World Cup in the warm climes of southern France in mind.
Martyn Williams admitted afterwards, "If someone had told me two years ago when we were whitewashed that we'd win the Grand Slam now I'd have laughed at them." Hard work, he said in repeating the Welsh mantra, was the key, as well as a willingness to play their ball-in-hand game, on the premise that they don't have the bulk to take on the bigger sides in trench warfare.
But whereas Wales were completing a fourth under-21 Grand Slam in seven years last Friday, in Ireland there appears to be little coming through and with a long spell away from Lansdowne Road in the offing, Eddie O'Sullivan appears to be facing the most taxing period of his tenure.
The introduction of more dynamic, ball-carrying runners in the final quarter may, along with Wales's performances, have pointed the way forward.
Hence, only in the last two minutes could the Welsh nation breathe easily. Then they stood as one, and Bread of Heaven reverberated around the Millennium Stadium. Impromptu, born out of 27 years of underachievement in which they'd been weighed down by their halcyon past, it was truly spine-tingling stuff.
Cardiff had been some place to be on Saturday. A riot of colour, an estimated 140,000 people descended on an almost baking, sun drenched city.
The pubs and a large screen outside the City Hall catered for those who couldn't get tickets, selling for £2,000 on the internet; the throngs, colour and buzz were akin to a World Cup final, and Max Boyce had helped whip up the massed choirs beforehand as well as hamming it up for all it was worth afterwards.
They're not as arrogant as they were in the 70s. Almost three decades of woe has taught them to be humble. In 1991, after shipping a 63-6 defeat to the Wallabies in Brisbane, that night the players fought amongst themselves.
Three years before, they had lost to Romania in Cardiff. In 1998 they lost by 96-13 to the Boks in Pretoria.
It's been a long, often tortuous road. But Wales are back and rugby is a better game for that. You didn't have to be Welsh to appreciate that this was, as Stephen Jones said, simply, "a very special day".
