In Focus/Brian Corcoran: It was nothing as clear-cut as a calling for Brian Corcoran. More a general restlessness deep in his soul, a sense that hurling had not finished with him.

Great players do not walk away from their sport. DJ Carey, a flickering presence this September but a giant of the Kilkenny scene, learned that many years ago. You can only sunder the connection up to a point.

Now Corcoran knows that. One rainy evening last spring, he got up from his armchair and showed up for a training session with his club, Erin's Own. Just to see what was left in the wrists, the legs.

Five months later, he is an All-Ireland champion.

He hurled with unfailing class and splendour for almost a decade with Cork before he won his first medal in 1999. This one came swift and suddenly and so he stands in a peaked cap in the narrow tunnel of a stadium that has changed beyond recognition from when he first shone with a range of gifts that belied his teenage years. That was 1992. Ever modest, he is surprised and perhaps even a little embarrassed by it all.

"I wouldn't say this is sweeter than 1999 but it certainly is as sweet. Five years ago was fantastic but I suppose I didn't really think I would be back for another one. But it is a great feeling to be involved with a super bunch of lads and this team.

"Like, last year I watched from the upper deck of the Hogan. At the time I was rooting for the lads but I felt I made the right decision to be sitting where I was. Ah, hindsight is a great thing. It never really entered my mind - obviously we were disappointed with how things were going with the club. But I never regretted it at all - they are the nicest lads I could be involved with and there was a great atmosphere at training. And you could see it in guys' eyes at training during the week that they were up for it and weren't going to let this slip."

Corcoran's leaving of the game was like a cold wind blowing through the GAA. One of the gentlemen, one of the best, had simply become overwhelmed.

In Cork, he was an anointed son since starring at 15 years of age on a county minor team. He was only 19 and a debut player when he joined the immortal Christy Ring as the only Rebel county player to be honoured as hurler of the year despite failing to win an All-Ireland medal. That bittersweet position seemed set to define his career.

At times he seemed like a hurler from a bygone era, playing with stoic excellence for a generation of Cork hurlers that brought a period of novelty and romance to the game. When Jimmy Barry Murphy led a boyish Cork team to that 1999 All-Ireland championship, Corcoran, although only 26, seemed like a man apart, a survivor from a different era.

That is why his presence during this taut and wintry battle of the bluebloods was heart-warming for the neutral. Gone was the magnetic and compelling defender of a decade ago, reborn as a grafting, busy full forward, a Daddy battling among the leanest full-back line in the business. As the light began to dip, Kilkenny had succumbed to the rarest option, moving Noel Hickey out of his customary full-back spot.

"That gave us a little fillip," admitted Cork manager Donal O'Grady.

Corcoran kept James Ryall equally busy. At the end, with the contest long over and Cork songs ringing around the ground, the grand old man scampered out to a ball tight near the Hogan Stand. It begged for a shot, crazy as the angle was.

Years ago, as a young teenager, he used to score goals and points from crazy angles for fun. Now he did not hesitate, nonchalantly floating the score that announced another All-Ireland for Cork. A ferocious noise broke across the ground and Corcoran dropped to his knees.

"God, I fell to my knees, not dropped to them. But yeah, it was a great feeling. I knew at that stage we had the game because there was just the minute left. So it was icing on the cake. But in fairness everyone out the field were just incredible to hold Kilkenny to two points in the second half. And to hear that roar at the end was a dream."

And it must seem like that. As Corcoran spoke, his two young daughters appeared on the scene with their mother, tired and excited. Too young, perhaps, to understand the magnitude of the day but old enough to appreciate it was somehow special, that their father was a part of all the noise and colour. He will have plenty of time to explain the finer details.

"When I retired I was sure that was it," he marvelled.

"But it is amazing how time changes things and I certainly have no regrets at this stage. I won't worry about next year for three or four months. We will enjoy this. I will make up my mind. I have no plans at all at this stage."

This time, though, they will not let him slip into the night so easily.

The encore has been perfect. At 31, Brian Corcoran might be starting all over again.