Oh, the places they have seen. Galway have become globetrotters since doomsday visited way back on June 3rd, navigators of an unseen path. Hitchhikers on the N17 and just about every other national route towards this brave, new All-Ireland.

"Funny, I was dead against the back-door system at the start," muses Kevin Walsh.

"I reckoned if you got beat, that should be it. But people really took to it, and looking back, it was a fantastic thing. You know, to come through Cork, Armagh, Derry and Meath in one year, you'd nearly deserve two medals."

This has been the big man's most blessed season, requiring a trifling two visits to the hospital theatre to see him through. His autumn years have been his finest and John O'Mahony's most under-written link has watched the team change since the revolution began in 1997.

"I suppose it is a different team than that of 1998, but the backbone is still the same. But the fantastic thing is the talent that is coming through. The likes of (Kieran) Fitzgerald and Joe Bergin - there to fill up the shoes of the old lads."

The older lads are smiling widest. Ray Silke has the '98 beam on, Seβn ╙ Domhnaill is delirious despite a less central role.

"Just fantastic. A great bunch and a great backroom team. And we are not through yet either."

In another corner, team captain Gary Fahey is holding court, keeping half an eye on the Sam Maguire.

"Personally, it is a dream to see the cup just sitting here. God, strange game. What was it, six apiece at half-time? And the way it transpired is hard to fathom, I haven't really thought about it yet.

"I suppose Trevor's (Trevor Giles's) penalty miss was the defining point - when it was wide, you had a feeling it might be our day. And the way it was at the end is just a feeling you do not expect to have when you play Meath."

Fahey is the picture of quiet joy. Everywhere it is the same. Most of the talk is of Padraig Joyce and his unearthly poise. It is a happy dressing-room. Hard not to smile at the gloomy pictures of early summer, when the rumour mill had it that relations were at breaking point.

John O'Mahony was at his most masterful then, all but holding press nights when most managers would cede to paranoia. Here he is minutes into what must be the finest achievement of his career, the same old John, measured and modest .

"It was a great feeling," he allows when considering the last, few leisurely seconds when another famous crossing of the fabled waters was inevitable.

"I think the most pleasing aspect was the sustained effort because we had come in for a bit of criticism in our previous games over that aspect of our game," he says.

It is typical of this regime that the perceived trouble spots were those most fiercely ironed out. As a team, Galway were never so totally at one all summer. And, individually, it was Padraig Joyce who toppled the argument that his form was not as godly as in previous years.

"The unfortunate thing is that people tend to see players for five minutes and base their season's assessment of him on that," says O'Mahony.

"Players like Padraig Joyce should not have to be constantly proving themselves. He was written off but then in ways, the whole team was written off. So it is very pleasing, you know.

"In the first half, we soaked up a lot of the expected tension and pressure and then applied our game. And we talked about what to do both mentally and physically in certain situations and just kept going."

No stone unturned. That his is secret. There was a great moment in the chaotic corridors when O'Mahony, trying to make his way into his dressing-room, bumped into Seβn Boylan, departing after addressing the winners.

"I missed you again, Seβn," said O'Mahony, embracing the Meath man.

"Just as well," laughed his counterpart, before hugging him with the ferocity of a football-mad Tuam man.

Few teams have been shaped more thoroughly as these two have by Boylan and O'Mahony.

"Ah, look, lads, fierce disappointed, just lost an All-Ireland and it's not often you get to them," said Boylan to the journalists in the same sing-song voice we normally hear when Meath are winning.

"It was all to play for at half-time but we were not able to respond when Galway picked it up and that was that. It was a great Galway performance and so we honour them for that. I feel very sorry for our lads but these things happen."

And then the Dunboyne man smiles back at his inquisitors, benignity in his eyes.

Shocked, we start hurling excuses at him. Trevor's miss. Nigel's (Nigel Nestor's) dismissal. The curse of a long dead coven of Kerry forwards, bewitching Meath out on Valentia.

Boylan disperses them with a casual wave.

"Look lads, there are no excuses. Sometimes these things go for you. Days like today, they didn't. Like, Trevor put the ball down, hit it well, it went wide."

And the Kerry thing? "Ah, it made no difference. The lads are too long around. Least I hope that's the way it is."

Back to his boys he wanders and heads shake in his wake. He handles September loss with the same grace as all the winning days, deflecting attention back to the only relevant fact now that this epic, winding trail of summer football has finally reached a just conclusion.

"Galway are a fantastic team," he announces, as if to finally make it fact.

It is a good epitaph to an unforgettable season.