AUSTRALIA v IRELAND: Gerry Thornleytalks to the Ireland scrumhalf as he recalls how he coped with life on the sidelines

FOR NINE years he was part of the furniture; then, all of a sudden, he was moved around before being shifted to the attic. He still looked in good order. Everything worked like it used to. It wasn't as if he'd started to rust away. Just that something different had come along.

No one has a right to any jersey, and Peter Stringer knew that as well as anyone. Even so, that intense inner drive that propels a player to the top and keeps him there for so long must make the hard days - watching from the sidelines or the stands - even harder. For such a devoted professional and arch competitor, confinement to a watching brief in the Heineken Cup final cannot have been easy.

Save for John Hayes, no player has enjoyed such longevity or durability for province and country. Since being selected for his debut against the Scots at Lansdowne Road in 2000, Stringer played in 78 of Ireland's next 90 games. In the next nine seasons he was, in effect, dropped only once, for the rearranged 32-10 Six Nations defeat to Scotland in Murrayfield in September 2001.

Until last year's historic Six Nations outing against France, when he was injured for that defeat, it remained the only competitive international he missed in that time. The rest were mostly end-of-season tour games or the weakest link in the autumnal windows. With one, fateful intercept pass against Namibia, however, he was suddenly jettisoned.

His form had, in truth, been rusty after a near five-month lay-off from matches but he hadn't been the only one searching for his best game. And while Ireland's analysis had expressly emphasised the dangers of risking intercept passes against the Namibians, it seemed tough on Stringer that he was the only one of the "15 Untouchables" to carry the can.

He was on the bench throughout the Six Nations. Worse followed though when he lost out in the knock-out stages of the Heineken Cup after a couple of slightly unsure Magners League outings, and even when Tomás O'Leary was struggling in the semi-final against Saracens, Stringer remained on the bench. Ditto the final. Now, he's back, starting his first Test today since that nervy win over Namibia.

"To say the least, it's been up and down alright. It's been strange. I'm at a point now where it's the last game of the season and I'm delighted to be here, to be involved in a great Test match."

If nothing else though, he must be fresh?

"Yeah, fresh, and looking forward to it. Going through a season, you always want to play more and more games at the highest level, whether it be provincial or international. In particular, you always want to give more and in particular this year when I haven't been given a chance. Just really champing now at the moment."

Essentially a private lad, and normally a little guarded, he drops the mask a little when reflecting on the season and reveals the inner doubts that plagued him.

"The World Cup was the mourning period, I suppose. It was a difficult time. Mentally you start questioning yourself as a player, as a person, and I suppose those few weeks and even months, you kinda do doubt yourself. I think I made a conscious decision in my own mind to keep my head down and keep working. I didn't want to be moping around the place. So I just stuck at it."

Yet, not a start came his way in either the Six Nations or the Heineken Cup since January, not a chance to showcase his game at the level he'd become accustomed to for nearly a decade.

"It has been tough. I won't lie about that. Like I said, you do question yourself big time, but I've tried to stay positive and keep working as hard as I always have, and keep doing the same things. I have an opportunity there and it's an unbelievable feeling to be back in now."

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Leaning forward in his chair, elbows on knees and head bowed, he had - for the first time since early last September - been named in the Irish number nine jersey he's played in more times than anyone. It had clearly felt good. "I was just thinking on the bus on the way to training that it's really, really special. Not that I ever took what I had for granted, but it means so much."

Stringer is now 30, and so many players in his position, in all sports, learn to appreciate things the older they become, all the more so if it's taken away from them, by form, injury, selection or the many vagaries of being a sportsperson. As good as the first?

"Yeah, I was actually just thinking that. I was trying to compare it to my first and the first is an unbelievable honour, but I think sitting on a bus this morning and trying to compare it to a first cap - it's emotional, it really is, and it's hard to really explain what it really feels like."

Like so many of his fellow provincial men, he regrouped within the warm and familiar embrace of Munster, performing as well as ever throughout the pool stages. "It's a different team, a different set of coaches you're coming back into, and everyone has their own opinion. You meet different people throughout life and they have their own feelings on what they think, and they try to let you know as often as possible whether it be good or bad.

"All that matters really when you're playing for Munster is the Munster set of coaches and, like I said, you can't take anything for granted, going from one set-up to another."

While his Munster form earned him a recall to the Ireland 22 for the Six Nations - hardly surprising given Isaac Boss's difficulties at a troubled Ulster - it wasn't enough to give him a start. While he admits that disappointment led him to "another questioning point of my life", his experiences at the World Cup helped him cope.

"You just keep going at it. You don't throw in the towel, because we don't have many more years left in it and I'm not prepared to give it up yet."

One ventures that being demoted to the bench for the last three legs of Munster's latest Euro odyssey was an even bigger let-down, and like any player in his position, he must have had decidedly mixed and even awkward feelings before, during and after the final. No less than Shaun Payne or Anthony Foley, he had contributed hugely to the triumph, playing all six games in the Pool of Death. But that would not have been at the forefront of his thoughts. After all, two years before, same venue, same final, same result; except he'd been a try scorer and man of the match. Not quite hero to zero, but not far removed either.

"I won't deny it was quite mixed the way that I felt. Obviously not getting on was disappointing. It was a situation that I hadn't been in that often and I think within the initial feeling of celebrating, you're kind of in two minds whether you deserve to celebrate because you feel you haven't contributed anything to the day. And these things start creeping into your head, but when you start looking at the overall thing, and you talk to people, you feel your contribution wasn't just on the day, but over a number of months.

"Yeah, it was quite mixed, but it was an unbelievable day, looking back on the whole thing. It was great for the squad and I do feel very proud of that."

He thrives in the coalface; barking and snapping at the heels of his forwards, whipping the ball out to Ronan O'Gara with a speed and accuracy of pass that still has no peers. To be confined to bit parts - coming on in the 74th, 71st and 71st minutes of the Six Nations games against Italy, Scotland and England - is not what he was used to.

Yet, he is also driven by a near-obsessive fear of failure, and a fear of not being prepared. So while he's been in unaccustomed territory of late, when on the bench he prepared himself all week and mentally readied himself all through games to be introduced, be it in the first minute or the 79th.

"Back in the days when I did exams in school, I want to be prepared for something if I'm landed in it. I was never like that about exams in college or whatever. I'd go in there feeling I wasn't prepared, and there's no worse feeling. It's something I've brought forward into my rugby. If I'm in a situation, I want to know everything, I want to basically be as prepared as I possibly can be, so whether I'm on the pitch or on the bench it doesn't make a difference."

He's always had his knockers, and there's no doubt Eoin Reddan brought more of a running game, yet too often team-mates were not on Reddan's wavelength as they are at Wasps, and throughout Stringer's enforced sabbatical, Ireland hardly ever regained any of their old fluidity. What's more, his introduction for Reddan or O'Leary invariably saw the tempo ratchet up immediately. So it was again when he was introduced for the final seven minutes in Wellington last Saturday.

"It's strange, because you're thinking about your own situation and trying to impress and do everything you can, but at the same try to communicate what you think is best to the rest of the team in order to get a couple of scores or whatever. You just try to bring a level of chat to the lads.

"They'd gone through a very physical game which had been very demanding on them, and I suppose they were quite tired at that stage given the conditions. You try to relay what you've seen from the sideline, and try to bring a new kind of energy and enthusiasm to it."

He feels sharp, although this will be his biggest step up in quite some time. "I always try and work as hard as I can for the 80 minutes I'm on the pitch, and increase pace and intensity. That is something I'll try and do, and bring guys with me, and try and direct guys as best I can."

A scrumhalf's role is to serve and, no less than with any other position, ultimately the collective comes first.

"We've beaten them at home and they've been great days, but I think for us to get to a new level is for us to start winning these games in the Southern Hemisphere. We've been there or thereabouts in these games for about 60 minutes over the years but it's about winning these ones now, and that's all that matters really."

It's been a long road back, at times a dark one. But, he's back.