KEITH DUGGAN/Sideline Cut:  It was interesting to view the extraordinary events in the clandestine world of Limerick hurling unfold through the media over the past week. The gravity of the Eamonn Cregan affair really hit home when it became apparent that RTÉ Sport had assigned Special Agent Morrissey to probe at the heart of the matter.

Marty becomes a figurehead to the nation at times of true crisis in the darker provinces of the GAA. The Cregan resignation gripped even the most casual of GAA fans and, all week, people hung on Marty's every word. He leaves his journalistic brethren for dead at times like this, heat-seeking his way to the core of the issue and telling the country what we need to know.

And there is the sense that, with Marty at the helm, the final resolution will be a happy one. This is because Moz, far from wanting to sensationalise crisis stories, genuinely wants a peaceful outcome. You could see it in his beatific and reassuring gaze when he closed his evening news reports from various strategic hotspots around Limerick over the past seven days.

He deeply loves all that is good about the GAA and wants to preserve it. Marty is a veritable beacon of optimism and when he suggested there was hope you believed him. And so it transpired. Rightful order restored.

Marty is the John Simpson of the GAA Corps (and if you admire the BBC man's cajones for simply walking down a street in Kabul, you'd be forced to re-evaluate if you saw Morrissey deliver a post-match championship report on the streets of Castlebar or Clones. And he doesn't even wear a flak-jacket).

Furthermore, Marty delivered the key players in the week that shook, well, greater Limerick. Ciarán Carey spoke for the players. And Eamonn Cregan turned up, not only in front of the cameras, but also for a gravel-voiced inquisition from David Hanley and company on Morning Ireland.

The closing RTÉ news shot depicted Cregan leaving his house with a sports bag slung over one shoulder, as if he were, even as we watched, heading off to make up for lost time with his hurlers and hurler/footballers. It was visual proof that the crisis had been abated, and Moz bade us well with a twinkle in his eye before presumably exiting Limerick in some exotic mode of transport and compiling a dossier for the perusal of "Q" back at Montrose.

In short, the Limerick crisis was a very public feud. Far from opting for the traditional GAA option and heading for the bunkers until public interest simply exhausted itself, both the county board and Cregan stepped forward to clarify respective positions in the matter. In this environment, there was only going to be one winner.

Regardless of the forum, Limerick hurling could not afford to allow a man of Cregan's calibre to walk away. Once the crisis became a matter for public consumption, it was obvious that the masses would side with the individual as opposed to the establishment, i.e., the Limerick County Board.

And when a player as revered as Ciarán Carey stepped up to communicate the fact that the squad found Cregan's departure unacceptable, then the writing was on the wall for the Limerick executive.

Whether Cregan's stance was justly founded or not is irrelevant here. The Limerick man's profile and character is such that it seems fair to surmise that he resigned out of deep conviction and principle. Thus, he was prepared to accept the fact that he was walking away from a team that he loves and has worked patiently to build into realistic All-Ireland contenders.

But having taken that plunge, his use of the media as a conduit for casting his position in a sympathetic light was swift and deft, and effectively pulled the rug from under the feet of his adversaries. There is nothing wrong with this.

Cregan is a clear thinker, articulate and more impressive in front of a camera than are those who will seek our vote for leadership next month. He made a stand and defended it with typical loquacity and substance and, ultimately, he was vindicated.

Impressive as his performances were, however, they served to highlight the incongruity of the "ban" he has imposed on his squad when it comes to liaising with the media.

Cregan's imposition of silence (with the exception of team captain Barry Foley) on a squad of 30 adult athletes was the most starkly advertised example of an uncomfortable trend that is emerging in the GAA. The hierarchy constantly harps on about the desire for higher profile while, at ground level, team managers seek to widen the trench between the media and their players.

The philosophy behind such negativity is partially understandable. The pressures on intercounty GAA players are all but untenable, and if shielding them from the media makes life a bit easier, then so be it.

But that theory is insubstantial. It ought to be stressed that most GAA players are extraordinarily helpful and courteous in dealing with the media. However, the growth in media outlets and the rise in popularity of the games mean that for the bigger stars, the constant phone calls do, as more than one has noted, become a pain in the arse.

Banning, however, is no solution. Men like Ciarán Carey, Joe Quaid, TJ Ryan or Stephen McDonagh are old enough and wise enough to know if they feel like giving an interview or not.

And on that, the vast majority of GAA media pieces, written, visual or audio, are overwhelmingly positive and enhance for what many players is becoming a valuable commodity: their public image. This is partly because those in the media appreciate the fact that players are amateur and are taking time out to talk. But it's also because, like Moz, many of them really love the games and are actually fairly decent people. (There are, of course, one or two exceptions. Yours Truly, for example, is a miserable sod at the best of times and is, regrettably, no different in that regard than the rest of the GAA crowd with this newspaper).

A Limerick All-Ireland would be good for hurling because, as anyone who saw them against Wexford two days before Cregan's announcement, they represent all that is unique and wonderful about hurling. They play a joyfully expressive game.

Their manager understands the media. He has spent many seasons as an analyst on these pages and is incisive, sometimes bluntly critical and never less than honest. So it is frankly mystifying that he chooses not to allow players in whom he invests so much time and faith to at least have the choice to do the same. If Limerick contest the Munster hurling final or the All-Ireland final this year, it will be a sad day indeed if the players, the men whom tens of thousands idolise, are forced to stay mute amidst the excitement.

Given the events of the last seven days, it would be foolish to declare here that Eamonn Cregan is not a man to change his mind. So here's hoping he removes the gag and allows his team to reflect his proven eloquence.