DERBY'S players had been going hammer and tongs for 20 minutes in a practice match in driving wind and rain before Paul McGrath emerged, pulled on a pair of thick gloves and began gingerly jogging round the pitch at a pace that would have brought him home in the London Marathon long after Mr Blobby and the guy in the Superman suit.

"If one of our Croatians was allowed to get away with that, the natives would get a bit restive," laughs the manager Jim Smith. "But because the players have so much respect for him Paul can do whatever he likes. The players know he can't train like them, which makes it a bit awkward when we're working on things. But they accept it. Ninety-five out of 100 people in his condition wouldn't even attempt to play."

After more operations than Liz Taylor, McGrath's knees are so buried in scar tissue he has not been able to train properly for years. Yet, as usual, he insists they are fine At 37, he is a Methuselah among the young men of football, hobbling but game, desperately squeezing the neck end of the toothpaste tube to force out the remains of his talent. It is wonderful that he is playing in today's FA Cup quarter-final against Middlesbrough since he was bought not as an investment but to protect one, namely Derby's Premiership status.

Having stolen him from Aston Villa for £100,000 at the start of the season Derby must pay an additional £100,000 if they stay up. It will be the first cheque in football with a smiling face.

Villa did not think to ask for more if he won a Cup medal since they never imagined that with what is known in footballing slang as his dodgy biscuits (biscuit and tea: knee) he would be capable of climbing the steps to Wembley's royal box. He would be among the most ancient to do so, and it would be nice for the Queen to shake the hand of someone nearer her own age group.

McGrath, such a study in Irish laidbackness that he makes Terry Wogan look hyperactive, seems unconcerned about it all. "I know I probably don't show it that much but the Cup means a lot to me and I get very excited about matches like this." He could, of course, have been up to his ears in cups and medals by now had he not fallen out with Alex Ferguson and been shown the Old Trafford door back in 1989.

"It would have been lovely to have had all those medals," he agrees. "But I think my career has gone upwards since I left, so I'm grateful to Alex for something. He was new at Manchester United at the time and I think he was just flexing his muscles, showing he was the man in control."

On a scale of one to Merson, just how terrible an enfant could McGrath and his pal Norman Whiteside have been? "When we were injured we just did lads' stuff. It's frustrating sometimes when you're sitting on the sidelines and everything seems to be going by you. So you do have a few beers. We were no angels."

It has not escaped McGrath's attention, though, that these days the United manager is more a windsurfing and counselling sort of social reformer rather than a bang-them-up-for-life disciplinarian.

He has defended Roy Keane after acts of lunacy which, if they had occurred anywhere else but a football field, would have earned a compulsory invitation to tour

Broadmoor. In the ultimate act of patrician indulgence, he even welcomed back Eric Cantona after he had served his suspension for his Bruce Lee impersonation.

"Alex Ferguson seems to have mellowed a little bit," McGrath says. "He still has a few hot-headed players but instead of jumping in and saying you're out of the club, which happened to me, he seems to want to protect the players more. That's why he's winning trophies. The lads can see he's gone out on a limb for them once or twice and that way he's gained their respect.

"Neither of us wanted to continue a vendetta. After I played in the Villa side that beat United at Wembley in 1994, we shook hands. His methods have proved successful and I've grown up, which I needed to. I'm no longer the rebel I was trying to be back then."

In fact, Derby bought him as the wise old dog who could teach their Premiership puppies some new tricks. Smith says: "His, experience and ability have been invaluable and the way he's held the defence together at times has been outstanding. He's brilliant to have around the club talking to the young `uns because we say to them, `Just watch him play' - He's lost that bit of pace, but he's worked the game out." McGrath still has two footballing ambitions left to play one more Premiership' season and to play for Ireland again, preferably in the World Cup. "Even if I only play one more game for Ireland, I'll be happy," he says, and the strength of his ambition was the reason he asked the Villa managers Brian Little for a transfer when he was not involved in first-team practice in the opening week of the season. He and Little did not fall out, he explains. He understood Little's need to bring on his young players and Little understood his need for first-team football. Without it, his spirit and ambitions would have died.

Though born in London, to an Irish mother and Nigerian father, he was handed over to the Bird's Nest orphanage in Dublin at the age of five and stayed in the city until he was 22. "I had no other ambition but to play for Ireland, and my only regret is that we made a mess of qualification for Euro `96. Our fans were re-mortgaging their houses in 1990 and 1994 to follow us. Then when we were just a ferry ride away from a major championships, we blew it."

If there was any consolation, it was that McGrath was able to spend more time at home with his four boys - Christopher, 12, Mitchell, 9, and Jordan, 7, from his marriage to Claire, and Paul, his 18-month-old by his new wife Caroline. You can understand how much being a dad means to a man who still does not know anything about his own, other than his nationality.

McGrath, who hasn't a clue what he will do when he finishes his career except that his name will not be set in brass outside a manager or coach's office, does not even know where he will play that final season. Derby would be ideal for both player and club, assuming that he is still commanding a first-team place.

"In a year's time he might still be holding one down because he always amazes you," Smith says. "Then again, he might not.

"He's been absolutely super for us, though. He lives up in Manchester but decides when to come down for matches and what he needs to do. He's very strict with his routine; he's always right, always correct."

Words that will bring a wry smile to Alex Ferguson.