France v Ireland:  John O'Sullivan finds Gordon D'Arcy, for all his cavalier instincts, happy to follow the playbook

Gordon D'Arcy doesn't do straight lines, not on the pitch and not off it. His rugby career has been a tryst of triumph and despair, an exceptional talent that keeps hitting speed bumps. He bears one or two scars, mental and physical, but where once he found it difficult to cope, maturity has endowed him with a sense of perspective.

He remains remarkably unaffected by his talent, comfortable in its expression on the pitch, pointedly modest and unassuming when asked to talk about it. He possesses the ability to laugh at himself, grounded by friendships that date back to his schooldays at Clongowes Wood College and the unconditional support of his parents, John and Peggy, and siblings.

There is a perception, supported by the cavalier style in which he plays, all slashing breaks and slaloming through tackles, that he is a free spirit on the pitch, someone who disdains the playbook and relies on instinct.

The truth is a little more complex.

By his own admission he likes to be handed a clearly defined role, a general remit, but one flexible enough to allow interpretation as the game ebbs and flows. In the first half of last week's game against Italy, D'Arcy tried to be a facilitator for others; the second half was an illustration of what he does best: running hard and breaking tackles.

"In the first half I was very tentative, standoffish - trying to put people through holes and be the playmaker. In the second half I concentrated on trying to make the busts," he says.

Ireland coach Eddie O'Sullivan has issued simple and specific instructions for today's game at Stade de France. D'Arcy smiles: "I'm to get the ball, get over the gain line and look for an offload. Eddie told me that when I get the ball, unless the Red Sea has opened up in front of me, I am to get over the gain line. I'm to stop looking to put someone else through a hole.

"It's quite simple when you think about it. One of my strengths is in a bit of traffic. I have to be a little more assertive. I can do more damage with the ball than with my passing. I wouldn't say that my passing would ever overtake my strike running. When you get that bit of continuity and understanding I will be able to put guys through gaps."

Yesterday he celebrated his 26th birthday and today he revisits an arena in which he excelled two years ago in his only game on French soil with the senior side, en route to being acclaimed as the BBC Sport Player of the 2004 Six Nations Championship.

It came as a surprise - a shock is how D'Arcy described it. He was well versed in being named in 30-man squads, but only on four occasions had he made the pared-down version. On the Tuesday O'Sullivan called him aside and handed him the number 13 jersey and a straightforward brief.

Scampering from the room, he raced to get his boots and on the way put in a phone call to his parents. His father tried to offer a counterbalance to the giddy excitement.

"My dad, ever the realist, said, 'Don't get excited. Brian's (O'Driscoll) injured.' My dad is very level headed, but in trying to keep me calm he urged me to enjoy it."

That afternoon a young fullback-cum-wing blossomed in his new role as centre. When O'Driscoll did return from injury, he slotted in beside D'Arcy. Injury has often deprived Ireland of one or both in the interim, but they remain O'Sullivan's preferred pairing.

For all D'Arcy's precocity - as a teen sensation he was asked to tour with Warren Gatland's Ireland to South Africa in 1998 - and ability he is partnering a player widely regarded as the best centre on the planet. O'Driscoll could cast a long shadow, but D'Arcy rejects the supposition that he must limit himself to the more mundane duties of inside centre.

He explains the dynamic between the two players and the roles they fill. "It is down to positioning. When I was playing at 13 and Shaggy (Shane Horgan) was at 12, he was doing all the unglamorous work and I was making the breaks, putting chips in and running all over the place. Now that Brian's back he's slotted into 13 where all the traffic goes through, whereas 12 is more a hard-yards position.

"Brian wants to throw some of the passes and will look to switch around to give me a chance in the outside-centre role. It's important for a team to find its true potency in terms of running. His strengths are getting the ball at pace and either ducking back under or standing someone up; mine is probably getting a late switch and powering through a tackle.

"I think we complement each other and have that flexibility to switch around. We encountered problems the last day - some of our own making in lying too deep, others down to excellent Italian defence. Everyone has to put their hand up and say it was a bad day at the office."

D'Arcy no longer feels desperation to prove himself. "I definitely feel I belong and have been settled in for a while. I'm always trying to improve. I have been over-analytical in the last while, wondering all the time what I'm doing rather than accepting that's what I do in a given situation - too caught up in the details rather than letting natural instincts take over."

He admits, with an impish grin, to having learned to differentiate between the role of a professional sportsman and that of a young man looking to enjoy time with his friends. The line is no longer blurred.

"The biggest thing for me with my friends was developing an inflexible line that was right for me. I'm a professional sportsman. These guys are all working very hard, earned their masters and degrees in college, and some have positions in work with high stress levels.

"Friday and Saturday are their nights. They might play poker on a Friday and then go out for a few beers. On Saturday they might go out and have a lot of beer. That's not acceptable for me. I can meet with them and stay there for a while and when things move on so do I. On Saturday the same - meet up for a few coffees and then head off at 11pm. You have to be able to draw that line. It's all about picking and choosing your moments."

There is a candour too when he reflects on a disappointing Lions tour, especially the last week, when he was alleged to have turned down a place in the third test because of fatigue. It's an accusation that hurts, and one that doesn't stand up when put in the context of the serious shoulder operation he underwent after the tour. He's not going to dredge it up and won't point fingers. He hasn't forgiven or forgotten, just moved on.

He points out that he was fortunate to have strong influences that helped him cope with that shoulder operation and its aftermath, people who believed in him like O'Sullivan, his family and friends and the Leinster coaching team of Michael Cheika and David Knox. They restored his focus.

Of the Lions episode he admits: "I have some great memories but still have that horrible feeling in my stomach about how things turned out. I underperformed for the whole tour. I had about 25 minutes in the Auckland match when I showed some semblance of form. I had every injury under the sun at that stage.

"I had some real kicks in the stomach over my career. That's up there with them. I don't believe that anything that doesn't kill you makes you stronger. That hasn't made me stronger. I can take anything that's thrown at me but when it affects my family then I stop being tolerant.

"If you were picking on form leading into that tour then there is no way that I should have been there. The last game I played before I played against Argentina (last May) was for Lansdowne against Clontarf - and I didn't exactly play well.

"I owe Clive Woodward a huge amount. He gave me every opportunity to perform on that tour. I just did not click. I was coming off the back of two hamstring injuries, the second of which killed my confidence.

"In the Six Nations just before the English game, my hamstring popped and when it does you actually hear the pop. I was inconsolable. That killed me.

"I played like a crazy man in the Maori game and tried to do everything. If that tour had been six months later, I would have been flying. Timing, huh?"

His view is endorsed by the November test series, where he was one of Ireland's better players.

No one demands more of D'Arcy than he does. He's happy at Leinster and with Ireland has a contract that runs out after next year's World Cup.

He has long-term plans to travel the world and finally get "a day job" in quantity surveying, which he is studying.

He's taken his fair share of lumps and bruises along the way but retains that unaffected, pleasant nature.

He laughs: "What you see is what you get with me more often than not. I'm not a complex guy."

Today in Paris D'Arcy will hope to relive former glories and to do so will rely on those basic instincts that characterise his outstanding performances. A case of less thought, more action.