Ian O'Riordan finds an indispensable member of the Clare full-back family, Brian Quinn, still happy to avoid the spotlight

He isn't a Lohan but he is still an indispensable member of the Clare full-back family. Brian Quinn is the quiet man of a famously articulate generation of hurlers. After contesting the All-Ireland junior championship with Clare in 1993, he was drafted into the senior panel with little fuss, served his apprenticeship with little fuss and now regularly hurls opponents into oblivion with little fuss.

On Sunday, chances are the Tulla farmer will hurl in the company of a man who could not be more different from him. DJ Carey is as flamboyant as Quinn is taciturn. The man everyone knows against a man that likes life just fine not being known at all.

Little is familiar about Quinn other than he belongs where he does, the perfect number two, wanting only to keep himself and his man anonymous for the afternoon. But Carey detests anonymity. It makes for an interesting clash of principles.

"Well, no matter which of the Kilkenny forwards you get, you know they are going to be good," he says, deflecting the issue away from DJ. "And they move around so much, you just have to take it as it comes. Ah, we have a big job ahead of us but sure we will give it a go and hopefully it will go well."

Although Quinn was on the panel for the Munster and All-Ireland breakthrough in 1995, he went through a long time as understudy. Mike O'Halloran had the corner-back spot tied up in those years and Quinn did not make his championship debut until 1997, against Kerry.

Although the colossal half-back line of Doyle, McMahon and Daly broke up in the years after Quinn's debut, with only McMahon remaining, the full-back line looks as fresh and resolute as ever.

"Well," he says, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of elaborating on flattery, "we have been together now for a while and things have just fallen into place for us. But All-Ireland finals are different days, nobody honestly knows how things will be or what will happen so . . ."

So he would he happier not saying anything.

Quinn travelled in from Tulla to school in Ennis and came through the St Flannan's nursery, winning a Harty Cup medal with the team. At 5 ft 11 ins and 12 stone, he is neat and economical, an unselfish hurler content to let others be the "Show". He just wants to guard his corner.

He is 30 now and in his prime along with the two Lohans, Brian and Frank. Gradually, more people drift across the field to listen to the non-Lohan of the Clare full-back trinity. Because that's how Clare's last line is generally referred to: the Lohans and Brian Quinn.

"Well, sure, that's the way it is," he laughs taking in what now constitutes a small crowd with a bit of unease. When it is all over, you get the feeling Quinn will not be reminiscing on this moment as one of the highlights of his life.

He is asked about the leaders in the Clare defence, the generals.

"Well," he says, " it depends. I suppose everyone takes command at times."

And the way they will deal with the individual threats presented by Carey, Henry Shefflin and co, they will just hustle together, sort of a blanket defence?

"Eh, yeah, something like that."

Enough is enough. There is a silence and the defender seizes it.

"Listen, lads, thanks," he says with a note of apology, and slips deftly through his audience, trotting with relief down the tunnel of Cusack Park.

There goes Brian Quinn.