All-Ireland Final day, '98.He sat in the Hogan Stand beside his father, disbelieving eyes fixed on the remote pageant unfolding before him. Saw Offaly's Brian Whelehan clip a late goal to cap a wondrous afternoon and was gripped by the same feeling of ill-ease, haunted by that thought - it could have been us.

Hell, but for a point, a single swish of a hurl, he might have been out there, orchestrating those impassioned screams and whoops which tumbled around him. They said it was a day of hurling purity. Maybe, but for him it was just a lost opportunity. So they traipsed down the stone steps, the pair of them, neither feeling the need to articulate what he felt. But what has all this airy talk got to do with Tony Browne? The man walks the streets as an artist of no little renown, a midfield trailblazer of confirmed pedigree. Tony Browne, they say, is a winner, the soul behind Waterford's shuddering revival. Won't you say it, Tony, that life has never been better?

"I dunno, I think that our league disappointment this year has a lot to do with losing to Kilkenny last year. Missing out on playing in an All-Ireland is, when you come from one of the weaker counties like ourselves, something that's very hard to come to terms with. Especially having lost by just a point. You can't help wondering will you come that close again. It's not something you ever forget, really, until you get there, until you win something."

He is sitting in a hotel lobby on a dead calm day in Waterford, a reddish light settling across the city for the evening.

Browne, a Lismore lad, lives in town now, though there were times this year when he could scarcely remember his address so rarely did he see the four walls. Last year's epics played on him over the darker months. Over time, hurling, his love, became a drudgery, a chore and one day, about five weeks ago, he woke up and found he wanted no more of it.

"I just totally lost my appetite for the game. There just seemed to be nothing else to my life. Hurling, hurling, hurling, that's all it was. I was training as hard as ever but instead of getting fitter, I seemed to be more exhausted. I just needed to take a break."

And so he had a sabbatical of sorts, leaving the boots aside for almost three weeks. Rumours skirted around about a rift between himself and Gerald McCarthy. There was talk that Browne was maybe flaunting his All Star as a sick note, whispered allegations that he just didn't want to put it in anymore.

"Eventually, I decided to speak out about it. There was never any row between myself and Gerald, it was much more serious than that. It had gotten to the stage where I was wondering if it was all worthwhile. I felt that I had to put Tony Browne first for just once," he says.

"I mean, after the All Star last year, I was attending a lot of functions. And don't get me wrong, I was very honoured to be asked. But it was like, you'd get home from work, off to a function, up for work, training, the same the next evening, rest on a Saturday, game Sunday. I needed to step back. And there were a lot of journalists calling and asking what was up, was there a row or whatever. I just felt burnt out, lost the hunger. I mean, I'd never class myself in the same bracket as DJ Carey, but I could understand totally his perspective when he decided to retire."

Everything hinged on those lost weeks. He talked to team-mates and mentioned his doubts to his folks and sat down with McCarthy to air things, but ultimately it was his call. Twenty-five years of age and on the rocks? It was nearly so.

"When I returned after the three weeks and still had no desire to hurl, I was very worried. I didn't say all that much to the family, what with the tradition we have in the game. If I said to my father I didn't want to hurl, he'd look at me as if to say, `what are you talking about?'.

"Thankfully, I have rediscovered the old zest. I'm so looking forward to the Limerick game now, but it was a real problem. And I felt I needed to speak out about it because I think it's going to be a problem for the GAA with future stars who will just burn out."

He has rid himself of that sense of running on empty and moves with the old lightness again. Like the rest in Waterford, he has a glint in his eye when he mentions Limerick.

"I suppose this is a massive year for Waterford hurling in that the surprise aspect is gone now. Teams know we can compete. But I think Limerick would always expect to beat us, even if we are flying. To be honest, we went out to win every game in the league this year, it's just the form wasn't there. I think our season turned in the game against Wexford after Paul Flynn was sent off for a softish foul. We've won nothing here, we can't afford to be waltzing around fields for games. Maybe other counties can but not us. We need to build again this summer."

Over the coming months, Browne will chew up mileage in his job with Eric Wardour Services, a Guinness supplier.

On the road, you get to turn things over and on idle stretches sequences from last year's surge present themselves. The clammy euphoria in the underbelly of Pairc Ui Chaoimh after they vanquished Tipperary, the frenzied opening to the Munster final replay, winning in Croke Park, the gnarled calmness of the Kilkenny veterans. It was nearly too much to take in.

"I think a lot of lads remember the win over Tipp as the best of the summer. They gave us an awful roasting in Cork a few years previous, really hammered us. That knocked us back a bit. The rest, well, after the Munster final I suppose the media were saying, `who are these crazy people busting each other up', but I dunno if it's possible to imagine the intensity of an occasion like that, with 50,000 people there and the blood boiling in everyone.

"It was a nasty day for hurling, I suppose, but that stuff does happen. It was unfortunate for Colin (Lynch) that he got three months but it's all over now. I don't think there is any animosity between the sides."

He stops for a minute.

"Anyway, when all is said, that Clare team will be remembered as one of the finest, they have proven themselves. With us, there is a sense that if we don't do it this year, we'll be written off as a flash in the pan."

There is still a coltishness to this Waterford bunch. For all the deep rooted confidence Gerald McCarthy has quietly instilled, the grim years are still fresh in the memory. After Browne won an under-21 All-Ireland in 1992, they rode through the city in an open-top bus.

"I suppose the lads in Kilkenny or wherever might laugh at that. Meant so much to us, though. And it took six years for the good of that to appear at senior level," he says.

That Browne will hurl this summer should be a source of joy to all who love the sport. On his game, he is a transfixing athlete, light-footed and commanding with sinewy grace. It seems unusual that someone so blessed should have doubts at all. Perhaps it's that residue of bleakness carried from the bad years or maybe he's just a realist.

After all, Waterford might be felled by Limerick. So would he switch off then, enjoy the occasional lie on and a few pints?

"God, I must have given the impression I'm awful lazy. Yeah, it's funny, if it did happen, I'd be saying to meself, `a few weeks ago, you didn't want to play, now you can't and you're going mad'."

He laughs as he leaves the lobby. On the wall hangs a photo of Browne, taken last May, tuxed up and clutching some award. There is a half sheepish look to his open smile, like he's charmed by the fuss. As if he floated through days without a care in the world.