Interview with Shane ByrneGerry Thornley gets the hooker's thoughts on his desire to keep going, his move to Saracens, and the botched Lions lineout

He's still living the dream. His Test career may have started a month short of his 30th birthday, but the twilight years have been the best years, and Shane Byrne is not inclined to give it all up just yet.

He feared he might have pulled on an Ireland jersey for the last time when, during the Lions tour, he tired of the IRFU's lesser offers and foot-dragging, and uprooted himself, his wife and young twins to Saracens.

Nor is he foolish enough or naive enough not to have seen the signals that came with the omission of Reggie Corrigan and Anthony Foley. More than ever, he's entitled to treat every cap as if it might be his last.

Even when he reached his own holy grail of a first cap four summers ago in Bucharest, while frontliners such as Keith Wood were Australia-bound with the 2001 Lions, he couldn't have envisaged much of what's happened since. So he's always had a tendency to treat every subsequent cap as a bonus. Now, the 34-year-old seems almost to be on a one-man crusade against ageism in sport.

"People always talk about how long is left, but when I pull on a green jersey I feel like I can go on forever. I've said it a hundred times, I feel fitter and stronger than I've ever been. So why shouldn't I be given the opportunity to keep going? If I stop doing something, or if there's somebody better than me, move me on, that's fair enough. But if that's not the case, let us play. So what if we might be a bit older than other people? Let us bloody play rugby. We're good at it, that's what we do."

Eternally youthful? Hardly. A paragon of professionalism? He'd laugh at you for suggesting that. Byrne has never been noted for being one of life's diplomats and as his mullet (long since past its sell-by date) testifies, and no doubt as many a fellow player, coach or official can testify, he can dig his heels in about contract renegotiations, or any other tactical or selection matter better than most.

The secret? "Stubborness. Just too stubborn to say no," he answers with true candour. "No healthy lifestyle here. I think that's probably part of it, that I don't go mad about it. I do have my family life and my business life. Yes, it means everything to you but there's time to draw the lines in the sand and unwind. And in terms of my body I'm not doing anything to my body that a good hard work-out won't fix."

Of particular concern to Byrne was not only the thought that he might be out of sight and out of mind, but that Saracens weren't giving him the game time he wanted. Thus far, he's only had three starts for the club, coming on as sub for the rest, although he at least played in their most recent game, a Heineken European Cup win over Treviso.

He's phlegmatic about it, and though he might be less inclined to admit it, is enjoying a different set-up to Leinster. "Everybody does the same thing, they just do it different ways. But if you're ticking all the boxes, they have great facilities, good coaches, good players who are really showing the way now. But that's not saying Leinster doesn't have that. If I had to join somewhere, I'm glad it was Saracens. It has everything you want it to have."

Ask him if he has any regrets, though, and it's a different matter. For a rare moment in the interview, he pauses to think. "I'd prefer to be at home. But I wasn't allowed do that, so I had to go away."

He stands by his assertion that the Celtic League is more physical than the Premiership, though counters this by admitting that the latter is generally more skilful, and although it was clearly a wrench moving to London, he has been pleasantly surprised by the lifestyle change. Home is Harpendon, a country village 10 minutes from Luton airport and 11 minutes from the training ground, where he cycles to "work".

"It's brilliant. When we were moving over to London we genuinely thought we were going to be living in the city, and we were dreading it. But then when we landed in Luton airport, we drove past the place where we saw this magnificent old Roman village with huge big greens."

They rented there for a while, until something they liked came on the market. "It's hard for Caroline now, being away from home and from an extended family."

And the bright lights of London? "I don't want that. I'm 25 minutes away from that on the train if I want it, but I've had no cause to go in there yet."

A change of scene mightn't have been the worst, after a Lions tour which for Byrne, curiously, was both a peak and a trough, with his selection for the first Test and the lineout shambles which followed.

"It's amazing how something can mean so much and hurt so much at the same time; just all wrapped into one. But that's the way things go. I was just very lucky that I got the chance, somewhat, to redeem myself in the third Test. But that would probably only be with people who know rugby. Forever and a day I'll be remembered for the first Test, but I still would prefer to have been there than not."

In Brian O'Driscoll's diary there is confirmation that on Thursday, June 16th, just nine days before the Tests, "we have decided to change our lineout calls because they are too simple for the opposition to break. Listened in for a minute to the new ones and they seemed over-complicated to me."

And he goes on to explain the fear of New Zealand spying and espionage which might have decoded the Lions' calls.

Then, incredibly, on Wednesday June 22nd, three days before the Test, O'Driscoll writes: "Still seems to be some debate about the lineout calls. I thought that was sorted last week."

"Yeah," says Byrne, "that's the way it was." That Byrne also assumed responsibility for the lineout calls made him appear even more culpable, but there's no hint of bitterness or recrimination about carrying the can for a collective failing.

"There's no doubt about it, I took it, but I probably put myself in that situation, taking on the control of the lineout. That's the way I prefer it. I've no issue with it. What happened, happened. It happened because we messed up. There was a complete breakdown from A to Z in the lineout, absolute breakdown, so you've got to live with it."

However, you only begin to put it to him that perhaps it was a tad too close to the game and Byrne interrupts you. "There's no doubt about it that it was too late."

Another observation, that the Lions made somewhat belated use of the lineout maul in the third Test, draws an even more despairing and knowing response. "Don't talk to me," says Byrne, shaking his head, "but that was a players decision."

Indeed, Byrne points out that "we had better stats against the All Blacks in the third Test than they had against us in the first Test, but no one mentions that. We robbed eight balls of theirs in the third Test, and I think we won all our balls bar one - fantastic Test rugby. But not a breeze about that, but that's the way it goes. People will just remember me for being the hooker in the first Test, but that's the way it goes."

He's being harsh on himself there, but not in a self-flagellating way, more with the knowingness of a 34-year-old. Indeed, his maturity assuredly weathered him against such an experience.

Byrne still looks back on the whole experience as a fantastic one for him personally and many others. "It was actually horrible to come back and see how it was portrayed, that it was a disaster, because it bloody wasn't, it was a fantastic trip, except for the three Tests. That is the best way of putting it. But unfortunately, the trip is about the three Tests."

It particularly irks him that prophets of doom have again questioned the future of Lions tours. "In two years' time all people will be talking about is who'll be going on the Lions tour."

The sheer organisation of the tour, was on a scale he'd never experienced, ditto the media frenzy, the public attention.

"It was absolutely brilliant. There was a mistake made before the first Test. The Test team should have played together before the thing, once, maybe twice, and we suffered because of it."

Byrne remembers standing on the sidelines after the third Test watching the presentation to the All Blacks and agreeing among some fellow Irish players they couldn't wait for November.

"They're a superb side, yes, but they capitalised on mistakes and if you're with a fully firing Irish team we don't make a lot of those mistakes."

Now that the games have come along, the All Blacks have changed their entire team, featuring relatively few of the players who were in the frontline, but Byrne says "so what?" "Sure aren't they always boasting that they have this depth in their squad? Who gives a crap what team is playing against us. The fact remains the records show that Ireland have never beaten New Zealand, and if Ireland beat New Zealand the record will have changed. End of story."

No doubt Wales carried a similar self-belief in their own system, set-up and players, as well as a patriotic fervour into last Saturday's chastening 41-3 hammering, but when discussing what Ireland need to do today Byrne's words carry a clear vow of intention.

"Belief, patience and just be precise in everything we do. Don't make mistakes, don't let them get their heads up. They're going to have golden patches in the game, and you've just to keep your head, never let your head go down."

As for himself, well, he's not cashing in his chips yet. "Who knows if circumstances had been different, and Frankie (Sheahan) had been around? I don't know. Look at Reggie's gone, look at Anthony Foley. That could as well be me. But I've been dealt a lucky hand and I'm going to take it."