As always, Sean Boylan is deflecting waves of warmth and wonder elsewhere. He enters the dressing-room beaming and raising the hand of Mattie Gilsenan, captain of the Meath All-Ireland team in 1939. "Raise a hand for Mattie, lads. Raise it for him."

The weight of history rests easy in this room today. The natural thing to ask Boylan is how this one compares with those of other years.

"Ah look it, this is the mecca of the game, you know, it's like reaching the promised land. I'm as happy as I was the first time we did this. You know, to see a group of young lads pick up the mantle and grow together and achieve something, it's marvellous to see."

Around him are the men who formed the bones of the 1996 team, athletes who find themselves back at the summit so quickly that it's a wonder dizziness doesn't set in. But this team, this county, they are expert at tempering their emotion. Trevor Giles, a grin fixed on his face, is the epitome of calm as he answers the inevitable question.

"The penalty? They're all askin' me about that," he exclaims, feigning shock. "Ah no, give a bit of credit to Kevin O'Dwyer," he begins as Enda McManus groans in mock disdain.

"I scored one on Kevin in the 1996 Sigerson final and this time he guessed the right way and got the rebound as well, so fair play."

Giles has had days of near flawlessness in a Meath shirt and although this wasn't one of them, he was again to be found at the coalface when things got uncomfortable, dictating play in the last crucial minutes and nervelessly dispatching distance frees.

"Ah, sure, all scores are vital in a game like that," he says, gently refusing to acknowledge the immensity of his contribution.

It is a modesty which runs through this Meath camp, as though their accomplishments have more to do with the quirks of fate than any artistry of their own. Similarly, Ollie Murphy is cheerfully dismissive of his own first half goal.

"Ah, I was delighted. I thought about sticking it over the bar and then I seemed to get free and decided that I'd have a pot anyway. I'd had a few misses before that so it was a relief to see it going in."

It doesn't seem right that Meath have won an All-Ireland without Tommy Dowd having been up to his elbows in the narrative. The veteran grins wryly at his guest appearance in the final seconds, a ceremonial showing in honour of his efforts when summer was young. The Meath faithful shook the foundations of the old Hogan Stand at the sight of him.

"Ah, fair play to Mick (Curley, referee). I think he saw me out of the corner of his eye and gave me an extra minute to come on. It was frustrating watching from the dugout, you're there kicking every ball and watching the mistakes and there is not a damn thing you can do about it.

"As I saw it, Graham (Geraghty) kicked a few great points, we took those chances and Cork didn't. That was the basic difference. Not a great game from a spectators point of view, but we'll not worry about that."

Darren Fay is relaxing in a corner. Usual day at the office for the big fella; his man left scoreless, reputation enhanced.

"We didn't panic," he offers. "After the two goals we gave against Armagh, we weren't going to panic after they came at us in the second half. In the last 15 minutes, the ball just didn't come down. When we missed the penalty, they rallied for a while, but I think we settled well."

Meanwhile, Boylan continues to hold court. He is in the realms of legend now, up there with Heffernan and O'Dwyer. Perhaps he has been sated, maybe he will end his sporting career with the century. He chortles at the mention of retirement.

"Look, I'd say the same thing if we were beaten. Year in, year out, we sit down and look at how it is in the county, in the homes and, most importantly, so see if there is enough left within ourselves."

And the man is radiant, aglow with energy. There is a sense that this odyssey is not yet near travelled.