Proud of his game and 82 caps to show it

IRELAND v NEW ZEALAND:  WHEN YOU learn that you are in, you are surprised at just how thrilled you are

IRELAND v NEW ZEALAND: WHEN YOU learn that you are in, you are surprised at just how thrilled you are. Maybe it is because this is Declan Kidney's first big statement as Irish coach or maybe it is because this is the All-Blacks.

But you get this adrenaline kick, this big gust of nerves and anticipation shooting through you and it reminds you of 10 years ago, when Warren Gatland threw you in against the Springboks and it was all new.

The tingles.

Now, though, you have been through this rigmarole over 80 times. It is a business, but it is still an honour. That old amateur thing - that sense of prolonging a tradition - doesn't fade.

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If anything, it deepens the longer you play for Ireland. And you can't pretend you weren't unsure. Declan Kidney is as inscrutable as he is mild mannered. He talks to you and he talks to everyone else and you just don't know which way his mind is leaning. You ignored the newspapers and the radio bulletins, but you knew the public was raving about Keith Earls.

And you knew, too, that Rob Kearney has a lot of fans. Rob is direct. They ask him where he would like to play and he tells them - fullback. In an ideal world, fullback. You were like Rob once.

In Terenure, Ciarán Clarke was the established 15. In Leinster, it was Kevin Nowlan. So they put you on the right wing and you ended up making your full Irish debut on the left wing. Where would you like to play, they asked then. Fullback you said. In an ideal world. Fullback. Everyone wants the jersey.

Geordan Murphy is there too, the guy who, where Ireland is concerned, has sometimes seemed too good for his own good, has too much "play anywhere" brilliance to play anywhere.

"The heir apparent," Eddie O'Sullivan called Geordan when it came to the fullback spot. That was 2002. It seems hard to believe. Everyone wants the jersey and everyone has a legitimate claim. You like these boys and you share the same aspiration.

If they get the call, you will want it to go well for them, but inside you will be burning. You are all locked into that universal contradiction of team sport. You would do anything for the team. But you want to play for yourself.

You want to be on the field so badly that it still hurts.

And then Declan is talking to you and explaining to you in that gentle, amused, confident way of his of what he expects against the All-Blacks. You are in.

"Declan spoke with me," you will say later in the day when it is time to parade before the flash bulbs and talk into tape recorders. The questions you have heard a thousand times before, but will still have resonance because this is still a huge deal - this is your 82nd Irish honour and it will not come around again. Ever.

So you answer the questions in the way that you have been answering them for 10 years - which is the only way you know how. Politely and as honestly as you can. Not as chatty as if you were out with friends and maybe not filled with punchy one-liners, but true to yourself.

"He (Kidney) is very much aware that he needs to get to talk with players and explain the situation as to where he sees them within the squad. He is brilliant that way. He is talking to everyone and giving them an opportunity to air their questions or grievances or whatever.

"And when he told me, yeah I got a good tingle out of it because I haven't had a start in a while and it did feel like the earlier caps, with the anticipation and the hunger that you have to get out there.

"Getting injured in the Six Nations and being on the bench for the summer Test and then being in competition in Leinster, having to vie for my place with Rob and with Isa (Nacewa) has reinvigorated my enthusiasm and my hunger."

Noontime in hotels is a sleepy time. You can get lost in the building. After training and swimming, the squad melts away and even as you sit here answering questions, you know that other team-mates are squirreling up and feeling glum and wondering what more they could have done.

They make trades with themselves and demand of themselves that they will be in for the next game. It is the most frustrating feeling in the world, believing you have done enough, but still not getting the nod.

If there is one thing you have learned about professional rugby, it is that there is no room for sentiment. Coaches can like you as a person, but that doesn't mean they will pick you as player.

You think back to that first full cap 10 years ago. The 'Boks on a wintry November and hopes were rampant. You were the new boy in a three-quarters line of Conor O'Shea, Justin Bishop, Jonny Bell and Kevin Maggs. Eric Elwood was at number 10. Conor McGuinness at number nine. Then you.

"I don't think he has made a mistake," Donal Lenihan marvelled. "That is why he is in there."

That was a different time. You were playing with boys who had made the transition from the beery days of amateurism to pay-for-play, in other words. The gang who had, in Moss Keane's memorable phrase, "crossed the Menin Road."

And you were ready for it.

"I'm just going out there with no fears and no worries," you said then. And Ireland lost, but you did well - you were rock steady. And you watched as one-by-one, that gang were magically erased from the Lansdowne dressingroom. Even Keith Wood, the imperishable one, called it quits eventually. That is how it goes. Warren went. Eddie came. Eddie went.

You just did what came naturally to you - you played fullback the best that you could whenever you were asked.

Perhaps that early salute from Donal Lenihan came to haunt you. As the seasons passed, you found that you were tagged with a certain label. They said you were safe as a house. But. There was always a "but". They said that you were maybe a bit too safe, that you weren't always up to the adventure of the counter attack, that you were old school at heart: a conservative fullback.

And it strikes you as a bit daft that being a fullback who excels in the primary duty of patrolling the last patch of turf should be criticised for that but you get on with it. Bitching in public - or in private - has never been your style. You lived with the tags.

If Drico was Mr Flamboyant, you were Mr Dependable. Girv the Swerve: Good old Mr Consistent. You don't buy into it. You always felt that you looked for the gaps when it was prudent to do so.

You could point out that you have scored 19 tries, the fourth highest in Irish rugby history, that that was you sliding into the corner on that madding Triple Crown afternoon in Twickenham four years back. But justifying yourself has never been your style. Bragging has never been your style.

And yet it comes up again, that word "conservative" when you are answering the questions and you know you sound mildly exasperated when you acknowledge it.

"Yeah, sure. I have been labelled with that for years," you shrug. "I don't think it is justified at all. It is a major part of my game and it is one that I pride myself on. But I have always felt and have said that there are many other elements to my game and I feel I have shown them over the last few years.

"My form over the last few months I have been happy enough with and the likes of Alan Gaffney has really helped me with my game and given me new ideas and new direction in how to go about attacking and doing different things.

"I think it is fairly obvious that the new ELVS have put a huge demand and emphasis on the kicking game and I think as a back three you have to be really astute in terms of how you position yourself and also in deciding what to do with the ball, whether to kick or have you heads up for counter attacking opportunities.

"And I think because of the ping-pong kicking duel that goes on, fullbacks really have to be more aware than ever and work with their back three to cover the back field."

When you were a kid, you used to watch Hugo MacNeill playing at 15 on those frozen Lansdowne afternoons and allowed yourself to dream. Years later, you would meet Hugo at some function or other and he would compliment you on your game and it meant a lot when he gave you advice. You always listened. You have always been conscientious.

Going back to listening when John McClean's voice, after school on the Terenure rugby field, was the most important voice in your rugby life, you have always been diligent about learning. It remains a habit.

As a professional, you were always one to study old film, to watch the others, how they catch, how they feint, what they do just before they jink off the right. You always pick up something.

"Any player will give away triggers on what plays they are going to execute. I think if you study and put in the work you can nearly pre-empt them by reading their game and by seeing what they are going to do and it does give you an advantage.

"The All-Blacks, ah, they are very dangerous - they have strong runners and they mix it well between kicking and a wide attacking game. We sort of look back on certain games against the All-Blacks and wonder how we lost because we played so well.

"It often boils down to a momentary lapse in concentration or moments of individual brilliance from the All-Blacks. If you look at the game in the summer, it was horrendous conditions and was fairly close. In fact, in both Tests we were unlucky not to come away with a victory. You just have to concentrate for 80 minutes and keep the pressure on them.

"I do believe we can beat them. Look at the experience and talent we have. There is no reason that if we go out and perform to our game plan that we can't come away with a victory."

You are closing in on the top five all-time Irish appearances now.

Girvan Dempsey, fullback, Declan said. Eighty-two caps!

"I know," you smile.

"I do have to pinch myself sometimes to think that I have reached that figure."

Ireland have never beaten New Zealand before and at worst, they have a decent chance this evening, with the great stadium and all its ghosts willing them on. You will soak it up: the anthem and noise and lights and then you will get down to business in your own solemn and unassuming way.

"I am not going to give away any secrets," you say lightly. "But I think, yeah, it is going to be a tough day at the office. It is nice to get the opportunity to put on the green jersey and go out on Saturday and hopefully make history."

Ten years ago, when you were starting out, you vowed to go out there and play for Ireland with no worries and no fears. You believe you have been as good as your word.