Keith Duggan talks to Mayo's Conor Mortimer who is convinced his side will not be found wanting in terms of self-belief against Kerry on Sunday

The Gaelic football arena is filled with solemn, muscle-bound young men - the archetypal strong and silent types - so Mayo's Conor Mortimer was always going to stand out.

There is a famous bar-stool story told in Mayo about the day the youngest of the Mortimer dynasty watched the 1996 All-Ireland final, in which his brother Kenneth was playing. Conor watched at home on television with a neighbour or family friend, whom for convenience sake we shall call Mrs Duffy. The match was electrifying and ended in a draw against Meath: the older brother played brilliantly and would finish the year with an All Star.

"Wasn't Kenneth great?" proclaimed the neighbour. "Mrs Duffy, you ain't seen nothin' yet," predicted Conor Mortimer.

The promise was on the money. A prodigious underage talent, Mortimer has evolved into one of the most recognisable players in the game. The slight frame, the booming left-foot kick and the Slim Shady hairstyle would make Mortimer a conspicuous figure on any field.

He has taken abuse for daring to be different - as recently as this year's Connacht final, a GAA "fan" dragged a key along the paintwork of Mortimer's car. He is naturally talkative and has been outspoken, sometimes at his cost.

Two years ago, an excellent season ended badly when he was hauled off early in the dismal All-Ireland final loss to Kerry. He explored the delights of New York and Miami that winter. "If you stay put, you would only be getting grief. So I cleared out for a while."

When he returned, he was still the same young player: outwardly cocky, somewhat exhibitionist, loath to blend in. Although he is a dedicated trainer, he despises the dreary devotion to weights work that defines many teams. He always preferred the notion that he would simply outrun defenders rather than burst through them. In Mickey Moran and John Morrison, he found men who think likewise.

At DCU last season, he won a Sigerson Cup, thereby winning his first national medal. He was surprised just how thrilling the feeling was. He got into trouble during the season for being lippy with an official but was back in the Mayo team in time for the championship, still confident, still unrepentant, playing his own game.

Arguably, his season hinged on the already timeless free he landed against Galway in the dying moments of the Connacht final. Dead silence in a crowded McHale Park and a kick to win the match: schoolboy fantasy stuff coming true.

Later, as Mortimer spoke to the press in the deadpan, downbeat manner of his, John Donnellan of Galway ruffled his head and winked congratulations. The big Dunmore place-kicker knew the magnitude of Mortimer's achievement. Mortimer just grinned and threw his eyes to heaven. His message was simple. Kicking points is a routine. Most of the time, they go over. Sometimes they go astray. All you can do is shoot with belief. That is what he has been doing all summer.

The most notable feature of Mortimer's game this summer has been his refusal to hide. Even if he strikes a bad wide, he comes looking for the next ball, eager to have another pop, brimming with self-belief. He is the top scorer in the championship on 1-32.

"Ah, I don't think much about that," he said airily, surrounded by around a dozen pressmen, including a clearly charmed Jim Fahy of RTÉ during Mayo's media night.

" Since I started playing with Mayo I have been top scorer every year. And it is not about you as a person, it is not about the scores you get or what you finish up with. I think you realise that as you get older. Look at the job the substitutes have done when they come on. Plenty of lads are stepping up and hitting scores so you can lay the ball off. And there is probably more ball coming through me than in latter years."

The response is classical Mortimer. He does not come over coy about his ability or try to deflect it elsewhere. Nor does he dress it up. As a consequence, he can sound offhand and even bored when talking about the game. He is only 24 and somewhere along the path of a high-profile GAA career, he learned that couldn't change other people's perceptions about him, good or bad.

More than most high-profile GAA players, Mortimer could find plenty of reasons to have an axe to grind against the media monster that seems to preoccupy so many. But he is always polite and friendly and turns up at Mayo's official engagement as promised even though the Mortimer family had just suffered bereavement.

"He was one in a million," Mortimer says warmly of his grandfather George, the Shrule man who died after a long illness.

"He brought us everywhere and we owe a huge chunk of our lives to him. And to our Granny Evvie (Evyln) too. As long as we are playing, his memory will live on in Mayo football. Everyone has great esteem for him. It has been a tough few days but we just have to get on with it, go back training.

"The day after the Dublin game, we had a good chat. At least he got to see one of the best games Mayo were involved with. Sadly he didn't last to see the All-Ireland. And I think he knew he was going and he would have preferred to have that than the night before a final. And he is looking down having a laugh. And that is one of the reasons why this match is so important.

"There are a lot of players out there who won't play two All-Ireland finals in their whole career. I know for Trevor and myself, this All-Ireland is vital. On Kenneth's behalf and on my grandmother's, after the loss of our grandfather. This is an All-Ireland we want to win and dedicate to him."

His brother Kenneth famously lost 11 All-Ireland finals. His other brother Trevor has battled all summer to regain fitness and is at last available for selection. Conor Mortimer has flown the family flag and two years on from a miserable All-Ireland final, he is back, looking the same but with more depth to his game.

"We know what it is like to lose a final now," he says quietly. "Still, we are up against a formidable outfit in Kerry. Against Dublin, it was heart and guile that won us that match. It wasn't free-flowing Mayo football. We will need both to beat Kerry. And I know we won't be found wanting in terms of self-belief." That's for sure.

All summer, Conor Mortimer has matched the flamboyance with substance when it has mattered most. And who knows: maybe we ain't seen nothin' yet.