Keith Duggantalks to Benny Coulter, who is desperate to finally achieve success with Down after so many missed opportunities.

THE TOE-TO-TOE extravaganza staged between Down and Tyrone has already been mourned as a lost gem of modern football, one of the few big summer GAA matches of the decade not covered live on TV. When you consider the football life of Benny Coulter, there is something appropriate about that.

For far too long, Coulter has been the hidden star of Down. Even as a teenager, he was acknowledged as one of the arch-exponents of clean, predatory goal-scoring but his chances to shine in the iconic black and red shirt - the most evocative summer colours in the Northern game - have been fitful at best. Coulter is the household name seldom heard. That ought to have changed in Newry as he contributed 1-3 to Down's sensational extra-time replay victory over Tyrone. But to witness it, you either had to log on to cyberspace or be there in the flesh.

"Those were two epic matches, really," he said this week. "It is a bit sad it wasn't on television. I think it was the only Ulster match not shown. But sure, it's their loss, not ours."

COULTER IS drinking tea in the Canal Court Hotel in the centre of Newry. Although most of Ireland is rain-soaked, it is exuberantly summery here and the Mourne Mountains look Mediterranean. This valley town is Benny Coulter's stomping ground. Mayobridge is just five miles away and when the football team go out celebrating, the Canal Court or Bellini's are generally the last ports of call. It is a good football town and already, the public anticipation of the Armagh match is in full swing.

Newry is something of a stopping point for the players on both teams. Coulter regularly bumps into Steven McDonnell here, Aidan O'Rourke has a business not far away and many Armagh people went to school in the town. Strange as it is to hear it, there is a lot of affection for Armagh around Newry.

"Let's just say since Armagh began winning things, half of these Newry people started supporting them," Coulter says mischievously. "I would meet boys walking about in orange shirts and I would say, 'how the hell are you Armagh?' And they'd be back, 'Nah, Benny, my Da's Armagh, sure.' And I say nothing. But they are Down people really. Some of them have changed so they can't really lose. But it is good auld fun."

Coulter is too sanguine a character to ever become irritated by the easy loyalties of the public. In any case, there were plenty of seasons when he was just glad they had some other county to shout about because it seemed Down could do nothing right.

He can broadly sum up his championship years in the Down shirt as "watching all these big games in July and August on the television. And it is a heartbreaking feeling," he admits. "It is just very frustrating. I know I have a lot to offer but we haven't been getting it done in Down."

Coulter played with five Mayobridge lads on the Down team that won the 1999 All-Ireland minor final, a stunning contribution from a club that had not won a senior county championship in almost 80 years. One of his best friends is Thomas O'Hehir, whose father "Big" Tom was full back on the celebrated 1968 All-Ireland winning team.

Sometimes, for japes and nostalgia, Tom senior would haul out videos tapes of those vintage matches, to show the young lads how it was done back in the day. "The football was different," Coulter grins. "I'd tell Tom all he did when he caught the ball was hoof it as far up the field as he could."

But hanging around an All-Ireland medallist's house was a constant education on the heritage of Down football. There are certain shibboleths about Down football. Down will always score goals.

Down are the boys of summer. Coulter grew up near Mickey Linden and, from 1991 and 1994, when Down had a team that appeared capable of winning the Sam Maguire any time they happened to be in the mood, it seemed as if their neighbour had cosmic powers. Those two wins underlined the Down reputation for enigmatic flair and arrogance needed to win an All-Ireland. For any teenager, getting on to the county team promised a sporting life of fulfilment and riches. But if Coulter has been unlucky in any way, it was in timing.

He made his debut for the senior team while still a minor. It was against Antrim and Down lost. That set the tone. A few years later, Down were knocked out of the All-Ireland qualifiers by Longford, a match that signalled a sad end to Pete McGrath's long and impassioned period in charge.

"That was the absolute low point," Coulter says now. "But there were plenty of others too."

IN RECENT YEARS, Down developed a reputation for blowing it. The most infamous case will always be their Ulster final against Tyrone in 2003, when they were nine points up and cruising. "Then Peter the Great (Canavan) got a goal and broke out hearts. Big Gregory McCartan got sent off for nothing. And the way Tyrone were then, 15 of them flying at you, they were hard to stop."

A year after that, they were engrossed in another tiny jewel of a match, a second-round qualifier against Derry. The world was not paying much attention but Coulter will always see the closing sequence vividly. Time is running out and a long ball falling upon him. Down are trailing by two points so it is a goal or bust. He rises to meet it and palms it perfectly to John Clarke. He continues his run even though he is certain Clarkey is going to shoot. Clarke picks his spot and strikes the ball low and accurate and it is whistling towards an empty net until it catches the back of Benny Coulter's heel. Coulter turns, appalled, and tries to retrieve the ball but it is spinning away and he hears the referee's whistle. Down and out. Gone.

Out. What was it? Early July? The usual. Right lads, see ye next year.

At worst, it felt like he was invisible, a spectator in this grand competition in which he was supposed to be a participant. It wasn't the glory he was after as much as the chance to see what he might do - what Down might do - on the shimmering days when Croke Park becomes the throbbing heart of the country.

He watched the lads he knew from Armagh, from Tyrone, and he wondered what it was like to be in their boots. It might have been unbearable if it hadn't been for Mayobridge. There were days when he felt as if his county career was going nowhere fast but at least the club was doing something extraordinary.

Led by the five minors and the canny stewardship of Jim McRory, Mayobridge have come from nowhere to establish themselves as the pre-eminent force in Down football, winning seven senior championships since 1999. Last autumn, Linden, the eternal footballer, sat in the dressingroom, muddy as a child and beaming from ear to ear. In another lifetime, this man had been the choice player in the country. "Boys, I never thought I would get one of these," he said of the Down championship. "Now I have seven."

Maybe there was a lesson there. In 2002, Coulter took a phone call from John O'Keeffe inviting him to trials down in Dublin for the International Rules squad. Instinct told him to forget about it and a year later, he was still reluctant, feeling he wouldn't fit in to this elite band where he didn't really know anyone. But he packed his bag and found his way to the training ground in Crumlin. Afterwards, O'Keeffe praised him and told him he had a big future at the game.

Coming from someone of O'Keeffe's stature, at that stage in Coulter's sporting life, it meant a lot. He has been an automatic selection on all Irish Rules teams since, fast and brave and never ruffled by the Australian rough housing. He enjoyed the games but most of all, he enjoyed the thrill of playing with the best Gaelic footballers in Ireland.

"To be on the field with someone like Ciarán McDonald, with the talent he has and being the individual he is," he marvels now. "Sure that is just fantastic. If I hadn't tried out for the Rules, I would have real regrets now. It was the best thing I ever did."

He understands the allure a life of playing Australian Rules holds for some elite Irish players but couldn't imagine such a journey for himself. "Too much of a home bird," he explains. The same is true for the American junkets often fluttered in the direction of players of Coulter's calibre. The notion of a sweltering summer playing easy football for easy money is attractive. But if it compromises his involvement with Mayobridge, then you can keep Manhattan.

"There is nothing in it," he laughs, thinking of Mayobridge. "Nothing but a pub. Gorman's. But I love the place. It's hard to explain. Like, I would go up to the clubhouse on nights off just to chat to a few boys and for a laugh. And if we go out, everyone would head into Newry together instead of dribs and drabs. I suppose its just about growing up in a place and having everything revolve around the football."

FOR THE PAST two years, he has been working as a football coach in Down. He is a bricklayer by occupation and spent long periods of this decade heading up and down the M1 to Dublin, spending his days on a site on O'Connell Street and then crawling out the airport road to get back in time for training. "I'd leave at 10 to six in the morning and get back from work at 20 past six in the evening. To make matters worse, I was with a pack of Armagh boys."

No question, they had the bragging rights in those days. At least this year has shown something is stirring in Down. The significance of that night against Tyrone went beyond winning a championship match. "A lot of boys were at this for eight or nine years," he says quietly. "Some of us were at a crossroads. Losing to Tyrone again might have been the end of a few careers."

He admits he believed it was going to be another night of "what if" when Tyrone went four points clear. Out there on the field, he was vaguely aware there was something special about the flow of the match but all he could do was keep playing, looking for the gap. His goal, just before the break in extra-time, came from nothing. Aidan Carr sent a long ball in, the shot sliced so it was coming unusually fast. Ryan McMenamin was committed to it.

"I says to meself, 'I'll take a chance here and not go for it because I knew there was a wee chance Ricey would drop it. It was coming in hard. So I let on I was going for it, gave him a wee shout from the back and it went through his hands. So it came in from a lovely height and I just palmed it into the net."

It was pure Coulter opportunism, ghosting in from off-stage, coming behind the last defender at the perfect angle so he appears to materialise from nowhere. "That's what I was trained to do from eight years old. If I see a gap, I go for goal. Of course I do. I think all out-and-out forwards would."

In the end, Down held on and afterwards, for the first time in his senior career, he felt something like the hot breath of celebration, something akin to pride and joy. The team had given Down people, something to shout about again. Afterwards, in the dressingroom, Ross Carr congratulated them and reminded them this was simply a beginning. But after eight years, it felt like some form of freedom too. He was on the edge of the field when Brian McGuigan from Tyrone sought him out.

In September 2005, he had watched the Ardboe man all but conduct the All-Ireland football against Kerry, marvelling and, in his heart, applauding. McGuigan has been haunted by injury and bad luck since - he was a late withdrawal from the team that night - but when he spotted Coulter through the bedlam, he made his way over. "Hope you go on and win it now, Benny."

The words might well have been fireworks blazing over the Mournes. It may have been a beginning but at least Coulter still has a say in this year's Ulster championship. And that will do fine - for now.