After lunch the snappers arrange their subjects and a sleepiness descends upon the gathering. Frozen expressions and inevitable silence before a finger click declares the image stilled for eternity, or at least for this week's newspaper. General sighs, like everyone coming up for air. The support cast filter off, the star lines up besides the next group.

James Horan floats through the motions with polite detachment, smiling when required, facing camera lenses with a patience which appears to know no bounds and offering a measured speech in accepting his Eircell player-of-the-month award.

It might be a working Monday but Mayo's football mafia are out in force. Here at Breaffy House, on the outskirts of Castlebar, rustles of hushed anticipation peak and subside. John Maughan is there, impeccable and charming, and everyone revels in the reawakening, glad that there might yet be another September to wring out of this unsettling era. They are there to re-embrace the good times. "Christ, though," goes the refrain, "isn't Horan a big man when you stand beside him."

The Ballintubber man waits on patiently, giving of his time, not fazed by the attention but not exactly soaking in it either. Merely handling the occasion as each sequence presents itself. And they are right. He stands tall in the flesh, broad shouldered and light footed. In the Connacht final, where he cracked three consecutive points in the second half (nailing five in all), his expression rarely deviated from that of introspective calm as he trotted back to his position, elbows high as he ran. It was just like 1996, when he rained long-range bolts upon Meath, firing eight points over the two All-Ireland matches. On those glittering days he stood alone, blessed with this sublime gift of accuracy. Seemed like he could summon points at will. On other days though, they'd tail his every movement in vain, waiting for the snap kick which could illuminate the entire team. Nothing. Some days, he'd leave them muted and puzzled behind the wire, wondering if they'd ever have the measure of him.

"Yes, I suppose there is that element about James, he does hold a curious place within the affections of the Mayo fans," agrees Martin Carney.

"The first thing that strikes me about him is that he is a big game player. I wouldn't claim to know him well, but he is a quiet, laid back individual and that temperament might suit on such occasions. But on other days, you'd see him play and wonder if he is interested at all. I'm certainly at a loss as to what precisely motivates him, as to what that X factor is which spurs him on. But he is a forward of huge potential and one John Maughan rates very highly."

For the Mayo manager, it was a case of being sold on first sight. Maughan responded to the loudening chat about this kid who had no under-age pedigree.

"I had recently taken on the post of manager with Mayo and had heard so much about this James Horan from Ballintubber," Maughan recalls. "Hadn't even seen him playing. But we brought him in for a challenge game up in Breffni Park against Cavan."

Maughan observed the newcomer and that evening boarded an Army flight for Cyprus fervently gushing about his latest secret. And to think he might have been playing southern hemisphere rugby.

"Well, I was born in New Zealand - my mother is from there and all the family were born there but in 1975, when I was four-years-old, we moved to Ballintubber and I have been there since," says Horan. The summation is devastatingly concise yet more or less complete.

On the surface, Horan is as his demeanour would suggest; self-contained, friendly, mildly reserved. He considers his contribution to Mayo's win over Galway in the Connacht final last month with a half grimace.

"It was a strange type of game. In the second half, I remember they were two points up and we had a few bad wides but just kept plugging away," he says.

"It was clear they weren't the same team as they were last year, they were tired. Winning was great, just to get another crack at an All-Ireland. I mean, we always considered ourselves as good as Galway and seeing them win last year really spurred us on.

"From my own point of view, things went well and you can tell when you're going to have a good game, when you're feeling strong."

Of his prolific shooting ability, Horan is a bit indifferent, allowing that he is "sometimes in the right place at the right time" and that he is generally willing to have a pop. Brings up the misses as readily as the streak scores though.

One stands clear, though - the All-Ireland final of September 1997, when Horan came on as a substitute after four minutes.

"What I remember most about that game is how flat we were. Just didn't perform. But still, we came back to within a point and then I had a chance which I shot wide. I think Colm McManaman turned another shot wide. If we had gotten those, well, maybe we could have gone on to take the thing."

It was the complete reverse of the semi-final the previous year, when Mayo silenced an unfancied Kerry side on an afternoon sealed by Horan's eloquently chipped goal. That tale is related as perfunctorily as the missed point.

"Yeah, Declan (O'Keefe, Kerry's goalkeeper) took a quick kickout which went to me and I just tried to return it accurately and it went into the net. We went on to win from there."

But the economy of words do little to reignite the levels of elation which electrified the Mayo sections of Croke Park as they witnessed the goal. It was a visual exorcism of the bitterness visited upon them on their previous All-Ireland semi-final outing against Cork three years earlier, when they were mauled by Cork by 20 points.

Horan went on to establish himself as the gemstone in Mayo's attack in the epic 1996 two-match All-Ireland rumble against Meath. He is reminded of a tussle with Martin O'Connell under the Cusack stand.

"Yeah, I was watching a video of that the other day, Martin didn't like it, he was a bit contrary about it," he laughs.

It is pointed out that O'Connell graced the recent millennium team.

"So he must have been right and I must have been wrong," he laughs.

The harrowing manner of Mayo's subsequent loss in the replay threatened to leave the side emotionally scarred. Horan spoke forcefully in the immediate aftermath, defending his team-mate Liam McHale, who was sent-off for his part in the general scatter at the outset of the game.

Mayo's collective fortitude in returning to the same stage 12 months later surprised a number of observers and they were the sentimental favourites to take the 1997 title. Their failure could in part be attributable to Horan's dip in form, so dramatic that he failed to start against Kerry.

"Maybe he didn't quite capitalise on the standards he set the previous year," offers Maughan.

"But he is an absolutely superb player, one of the best forwards in the game at the moment. I rate him so highly, such skill levels and attitude. I got to know him quite well over the last few years travelling to training and he is just a quiet guy, a good guy with a young family. And as a player, you know that no matter how tough it gets, James will keep trying, firing the shots."

Horan blossomed late as a footballer. He always had the languid athleticism, although in his early teenage years it was often given expression on the basketball court at St Garald's (De La Salle college in Castlebar) as much as on the field.

"He filled out physically and was a midfielder on the senior team by the time he was 18 but in his early days, he wouldn't have stood out, no," offers Eamon Murren, who coached football at the school.

"What do you say about him? A nice lad, quiet, fine attitude. He's a droll individual, if you know him. It's great for St Gerald's, his being a past pupil. He'd be a player a lot of lads would look up to."

And Ballintubber has undergone a revival since Horan's star began to soar. Sometimes, in club games, he finds himself double teamed as other clubs try to subdue the county man. Those tactics wash fine with Horan.

"It can be hard sometimes. But if it gives some of the other lads on the team the chance to shine, well, that's fine," he shrugs.

Tomorrow, though, Mayo folk will be praying that it is Horan who lights the skies. He stands revered among them, albeit in a distant way. There will always be something separate about this latecomer who has hauled his county forward on historic days. Isn't there a doubt, though, that all the nightmares of the past three years might flood back to them when they sit alone in the dressing-room and all the talking is over?

"There is always a bit of fear going into every game - if you don't have that you'll be in trouble and you'll get beaten. But we can't allow ourselves to carry any baggage, we have to use the previous experience to our advantage. And we have a more balanced side now than a few years ago. So I think we can do it," he says.

In New Zealand, his aunts, uncles and cousins will chart his fortunes on the Internet. He hasn't been back since 1975 but he might get to show his relatives the elusive medal in the off season. It's all vague for now. Only Cork matters.