Tomorrow will tell whether the marriage of Ulster nous to Mayo skill and passion is enough to scatter the Tribes, writes Keith Duggan

"In future the Mayo boys will be like Northern boys. They will maintain their programme." - John Morrison, The Irish Times, February 2006.

Mickey Moran is the first to admit it was a culture shock. The quiet-spoken Derryman knew by instinct and popular word that the public obsession with football in Mayo had no parallel. But nothing prepared him for the overwhelming warmth and enthusiasm and ambition he encountered all through last winter. And although he and John Morrison believed they had been well versed in the meanest and toughest arts in the game through their many years patrolling the sideline in Clones, they were both taken aback by the raw ferocity and antagonism of the league semi-final between Mayo and Galway in April.

Galway combined the celebrated velvet touch with purposeful - and fair - aggression that afternoon and brought what had been a cavalier Mayo league run to a shuddering halt. It felt worryingly familiar to the cognoscenti of the Mayo game, and talk immediately turned to the inevitability of the rematch, the real match, the latest Connacht final between the two giants of the west.

Both counties have done enough to make that happen, though not as convincingly as they might have liked. In his understated way, Moran, one of the most sincere and dedicated of football men, reckons the depth of feeling and interest in this latest chapter of the Connacht final rivalry is as intense as anything he has experienced in his home province.

"Everyone saw the pride that Armagh clearly take into the Ulster championship. I think it is the exact same here. Castlebar is going to be a sell-out. You have both teams wanting to win it. The quality of this Galway team is no secret and they have probably stolen a wee march on us in that they have had a settled team for a couple of seasons. We came into Mayo knowing there were a lot of quality footballers, and the first part of our year was taken up with trial games all over the county.

"And it was attending those sessions and various dinner dances that gave me a feel for what Gaelic football means to the county. And it is a complex thing. People cannot do enough for you; they are incredibly friendly and full of goodwill for Mayo football. But the drawback is that you worry that the players cannot escape from it, that because the focus on the team is so constant, they are existing in a goldfish bowl."

A need for some degree of separation and privacy prompted Moran to run Mayo's training sessions over the past month behind closed doors. It was regarded as a radical move within the county and was not the most popular as local fans, particularly in the build-up to a Connacht final, liked to spend an hour or two watching the progress when the evenings were fine.

"It was something we felt we had to do," says Moran. "Again, we were surprised by the number of people who had an interest in attending the sessions, and while most of them were, of course, genuine Mayo supporters, it had reached the stage where you couldn't be certain who was there from what county. So it seemed simpler to do it this way."

Training sessions are the key element to the coaching philosophy of Moran and Morrison. Players from any county they have worked with rave about the inventiveness and thoroughness of every session. But the laborious and somewhat leaden performances against London and Leitrim drew critical comments from several quarters, and concerns were voiced that the team did not look as fit or as sharp as other counties. It may well have been that low-key football exaggerated the team's sluggishness, because conditioning has never been a problem for teams under Moran and Morrison.

But the new formation, with the forwards playing in a tight "nut" before exploding in different directions for the ball, came unstuck against Galway, causing Morrison to memorably declare it was impossible to play Brazilian football given the destructive tactics of the Tribesmen.

Both counties went into that April fixture obviously believing a victory would carry much psychological weight. A thundering and perfectly timed shoulder by Galway's Diarmuid Blake on Peadar Gardiner, the dynamic Mayo wing back, made clear the intent of the visiting team.

In the second half David Brady was introduced to add some substance to the Mayo centrefield cause and was quickly clattered so hard he played out the game with a suspected broken jaw.

It was a match that suddenly illuminated the live potential in the Galway team. And equally, it was a setback for the new Mayo administration.

With Ciarán McDonald just coming back into the team and the Mortimer brothers seeing only limited action because of injury and college commitments, it was not a full-strength Mayo team.

But nothing polarises fear in Mayo like a poor display against Galway, and the defeat tempered the optimism that soared after the team's eye-catching displays in the league, when a new-look attack featuring Ballina's Ger Brady and the left-footed Austin O'Malley from Louisburgh were tearing apart Monaghan and Offaly.

Perhaps as a reaction to that, Mayo have been conspicuously low-profile in the build-up to this final, with the private training sessions and the fact that only the very senior team players like David Heaney and James Nallen are talking publicly, leaving most observers in the dark as to the shape and mood of the team.

The media presence in Mayo was another element to the job that surprised Moran and he marvels at the scale and in-depth analysis the county team is afforded in the three main print weeklies: the Mayo News, the Connacht Telegraph and the Western People.

"And the radio stations like Midwest cover any game that is going live, there are talk shows and analysis and the build-up to championship games is very thorough," notes Moran. "It serves an audience and the players have grown up with it. But while they may give the impression that it doesn't bother them, I just feel that there has to be a way for the players to escape from the hype."

Certainly, the analysis and comment on the county team in Mayo is formidable.

"I think it reflects the appetite for the game in the county," says Martin Carney, the former county player and current RTÉ analyst. "In the days and weeks before a Connacht final, the prospect of the team is a constant topic of conversation around the county. You can feel the anticipation. And it does mean that there is a sustained focus and attention on the players involved.

"That is something that has probably increased over the past decade or so to the point where I think playing for Galway and Mayo has become an entirely different experience.

"Galway seems to be able to absorb its football team better and it is possible for a high-quality county player to go about his day-to-day business in relative peace and anonymity. But to play football for Mayo, even for fellas who may not necessarily be automatic choices on the team, means a profile that maybe can have its advantages but that must also be very demanding."

The idea of Mayo footballers as public property is nothing new. Former midfielder Liam McHale, a selector under John Maughan, has spoken out about numerous altercations he had with disillusioned supporters. And a nasty experience with a small section of the crowd after a league match in Fermanagh caused Ciarán McDonald to temporarily leave the panel when he was arguably at the peak of his game.

As the bittersweet experiences of Maughan demonstrate, managing Mayo is a volatile pursuit. With the exception of the Dublin football job, no management post is subject to such relentless scrutiny.

That is why the appointment of Moran and Morrison, definitively Northern GAA men, was regarded as such an adventurous departure by the county. In a period when the entire ethos of the GAA has been consumed by the importance of winning, Moran has always offered the stubborn, gentle insistence that his primary aim is to leave a given county in better shape than he found it.

But Mayo football has been crying out not for cultivation but for a success to equal the power of its clubs and to sate its self-esteem. That is the ultimate duty for Moran and Morrison.

"Underpinning a lot of Ulster football," Morrison remarked last year, "is the fear of losing." That also applies to Mayo.

The consequences of losing a single match, be it a Connacht or All-Ireland final, always seem disproportionately awful on Mayo teams. Disappointment can descend upon the county like a black depression. The hope is that the combination of Morrison's bright ideas and Moran's steady, intense dedication can deliver Mayo from those dark hours. The first true test comes tomorrow afternoon.

Years ago, when Morgan was working in tandem with the fast-talking and charismatic Eamonn Coleman, he was known as the quiet man in the Derry football camp. Yet at half-time of the 1993 All-Ireland final against Dublin, with Derry trailing and Coleman exhausted from his travails during the stressful first half, it was Moran who delivered the keynote address that sent Henry Downey and company out with renewed fire.

The knowledge of how to win is definitely there as well as the consummate bag of coaching skills. Allying those qualities to the delicate Mayo temperament is the key issue at stake tomorrow.

Galway and Mayo finals are nothing new in the west but the accents on the sideline will be fresh and novel, bringing an Ulster tang to the old garrison town. They will be straining for every word and instruction behind the wires.

It remains to be seen if Mayo have become like the Northern boys. But sparks will fly.