Australia v Ireland: Gerry Thornley talks to Denis Leamy, who has enjoyed a remarkable rookie season as a Test number eight and looks destined for greatness

It says everything about Denis Leamy's remarkable rookie season as a Test number eight, that by the end of it he simply belongs in the same paddock as the All Blacks. The leading ball carrier in the Six Nations, this has been another step up in terms of physicality and intensity, and Leamy has visibly revelled in it. To the manor born.

Leamy brings so much to the party. His strength in contact, good footwork and sheer desire enables him to break tackles he apparently has no right to slip out of, and then he has the speed to make big yardage quickly. As much as any Irish forward now, even Paul O'Connell and David Wallace (who has been unusually quiet as a ball carrier to date on this tour), Leamy is a primary source of big plays. He's even become more of a lineout option.

Tempering his once infamous temper, Leamy remains utterly confrontational, never giving an inch, whether with drive tackles or impact at the breakdown. It is there, with his big bear-like paws as Anthony Foley calls them, that Leamy's ability to pilfer or delay opposition ruck ball at the tackle prompted Alan Gaffney to draw comparisons with the current Wallabies' openside George Smith.

Against Richie McCaw and his fellow thieves in the night, Ireland's competitiveness at the breakdown has been due in no small measure to the auxiliary openside play of Leamy, Neil Best, the D'Arcy-O'Driscoll midfield axis and others as well as Wallace.

Of course, all of this also prompted Gaffney to break up the closed cartel that had been the Munster backrow last season as an openside. Credit, too, to Eddie O'Sullivan for having the foresight to restore Leamy to the number eight position where he cut his teeth in a prodigious schools' career with Rockwell, Munster and Ireland.

Behind the Irish scrum at times he's made a silk purse out of a sow's ear. At 23, with only 13 caps, and a huge work ethic off the pitch as well as on which witnessed huge strides in his fitness this season, Leamy's best rugby should be ahead of him. Injury and reasonable luck permitting, Leamy now looks a fixture at number eight for years to come.

At Munster this season he has played mostly at six, but sometimes at eight, seven and even twice at 13, but he makes no secret of his favourite position.

"Basically the problem is Anthony Foley at Munster," quips Leamy, smiling politely, "and he's planning to be around for another couple of years. I'm delighted to play eight, it's my favourite position. I'd love to think some day I can totally concentrate on eight, but if somebody comes to me and says we want you to play six, I'll gladly concentrate on it, and try and nail down one position and be the best player I can possibly be wearing that jersey."

Leamy likes the greater opportunities and responsibility of playing eight, of making decisions off the base, of being the next man in support, as opposed to the more "holding role" of number six. Not that he's of a mind to complain, not with a Heineken European Cup and Triple Crown among the seasonal highs. "If every year was like this you'd have some career," he says, scarcely believing how it has unfolded. He speaks with almost the same Boy's Own wonderment of that unforgettable day in Cardiff, of the honour in sharing that moment with so many who'd soldiered for so long in that Magnificent Obsession, not to mention those who'd been part of the story before.

"When you think of the names who have gone through the jersey, great players and great men, just to go out there and be a part of it when we did finally win the Heineken Cup can never be taken away."

He plays with his heart, and recounts the sheer emotion of the day.

"Any of the fans I spoke to, most of them said they were crying, and it's great that people feel affected like that by a sporting occasion. We have fantastic fans, and I was just delighted for them as well."

Most of his current Munster team-mates were his heroes. When he first broke into the dressingroom, he sounds like he wasn't sure whether he should ask them for autographs or train and play alongside them.

"The first couple of years I'd say I hardly spoke. I'd be a quiet enough fella anyway. Claw (Peter Clohessy) and (Mick Galwey) Gailimh were still there at the start. It was just so surreal sitting two feet away from them. You're just taking it in but you're not saying anything. You get togged out, you go out and train, you come in and you get changed, and you go away without having said two words."

His season mirrored Ireland's to a degree. Initially, there was a certain rawness about his performances in the autumn, even if you couldn't ignore his phenomenal desire. He speaks, first and foremost, of the collective joy in winning a Triple Crown and four out of five games in the Six Nations. But it was redemption of sorts for himself too.

"Look, coming in there's always the questions. People were saying is he a number eight, or should he even be in the team? So I definitely had a point to prove. I'm my own biggest critic and I know exactly what I can and can't do, and I just wanted to go out and there to prove to everyone in Irish rugby that I could be an international player for my country."

He admits that testing himself against the All Blacks is where he wants to be. Looking at the names of his opposing backrowers and getting a thrill from the challenge. "I really enjoyed the two Tests, especially the first one. It was a real battle at the breakdown, everywhere, in the tackle and it had a great speed to the game. Sometimes you can just get immersed in a game so much, you could probably play all night you're enjoying it so much. It's great when that happens; it doesn't happen all the time. But it felt like that."

Training and playing with the calibre of players in this Irish team, and against this standard of opposition, can only help improve his game. He's learned plenty, and admits he's plenty more to learn.

"The McCaws and the Smiths get to the breakdown very, very fast. They're brave and strong to get on the ball early and get their body positions in such a position where no matter if a truck hits them they're not going to budge 'em. You can teach these things but they've mastered a fine art. Maybe it's in the environment of rugby they grew up playing in to what we have up north."

Like many a Munster forward, you think of Marcus Horan, Jerry Flannery, Donncha O'Callaghan, Paul O'Connell and Alan Quinlan, Leamy is a bit of a reformed firebrand. It's as if they've learned to play in a controlled rage. He now tries to avoid the petty individual squabbles that previously would distract him. "But certainly I wouldn't like to think I've taken the edge off my game," he counters. "You can never look like you're being intimidated or anything like that. You stand up to the challenge and you can never let anyone walk over you, or if anyone is trying to make a bit of an ass of you, you've got to let him know in no uncertain terms that you're not here to be messed around with."

He reckons he's learned to be smart about it, and the best way of doing it is on the scoreboard. It makes you wonder, though, where the Munster dog originates from. "I don't know what it is. It must come from the way we're brought up to play the game," he says, struggling to explain it himself.

"It's not a coincidence. I guess we were bred on a forward-orientated game. Certainly the (Munster) Schools' Cup is a great competition to win, there's great honour down there, so it must be something to do with that. I can't put my finger on it."

The eldest to five siblings, Ed, Kev, Maeve, Phylis and Anne-Marie, along with their parents, Anne and Kevin, he admits he's part of an intensely keen rugby family. "Rugby is the king in our home; there's always a massive debate and rugby is always the topic."

His father, Kevin, who played with Cashel, introduced him to the game at the age of 10, beforehe moved on to Rockwell at 15. It was there he came under the watchful eye of a Kiwi coach, Hogan Chapman. He'd sit down with the young talented firebrand, opening his eyes to how he could further improve. Now coaching his old school, Oathuhu College, they met up in Auckland last week for a few beers and a good chat.

Chapman can be proud of his pupil. "You just feel that you're doing the thing that you're best in this life at doing. Picking up a rugby ball and running at someone, just trying to test yourself. It's a great sport, and it's a man's game. If you break it down and look at it, you'd want to be mad to play it, but that's probably half of why you do it. Winning certainly helps the enjoyment. It's just so easy to enjoy it when you're winning," concludes Leamy.