HAVE you ever seen or heard Brian O'Driscoll, so animated, so highpitched, so visibly happy in a postmatch interview? He's breathless and the words are spilling out like coins from a slot machine that's just hit the jackpot. Apt really. Leinster have just landed their own prize and their captain is so distracted he takes a sip from a bottle of Ballygowan rather than his usual tipple of choice, Powerade. Delirious with excitement he may be but he still has time to respond cleverly when Marty Morrissey, himself carried away with it all, suggests that a Leinster and Munster Heineken Cup semi-final should be played at Croke Park. "Perhaps, perhaps, no better man to say it than yourself Marty." All smiles and in-jokes in Toulouse but a couple of hours later at Lansdowne Road and Paul O'Connell isn't exactly cheery. Hands on the hips, his lips are pursed like a man expecting an interrogation. "Far from vintage, " he tells Tracy Piggott, "but we're happy to get the job done." Brian and Marty, Paul and Tracy, the tale of Ireland's most memorable Heineken Cup day in sound bites.

But have you heard the full story of Saturday, 1 April 2006?

Sofitel Toulouse Airport, 10.30am (French time) Paul McNaughton, Dave McHugh and Johnny O'Hagan head to the stadium. Director of rugby, team manager and kit man. It's their normal pre-match routine. Drop off the gear, check where the coaches will be sitting during the game, that kind of thing.

Nothing too strange about this visit but there was on the way back to the hotel in the equipment van.

The Toulousians were out in their gardens, sun shining down, tables set up, wine at the ready, colours donned, all ready for the match. It wasn't a team Leinster were about to take on. It was a city.

Toulouse city centre, midday (French time) Robbie O'Connor is tired. He's the chairman of the Leinster Supporters Club and after the travelling of yesterday, and the organisation of the past few weeks, he's feeling the strain. He does a bit of work in the GPO, too, lest we forget the day job. The club have produced an informative booklet letting those newbies to Toulouse know how to get in from the airport, work your way around town, where to eat, shop and all the rest of it. They've also organised a shipment of bodhrans and flags, kindly supplied by Bank of Scotland Ireland. Last night Robbie was in De Danu, the club's weekend headquarters but he didn't have a sip. Too much to do. Now he and his motley crew of helpers are unpacking the stuff that's been shipped over earlier in the week and soon they'll be out and about Toulouse handing out the drums and colours to Leinster fans. They're expecting 5,000, maybe 6,000 if the wind has been blowing the right way but still, in the midst of 30-odd thousand Toulousians, they could be lost. Utterly lost. So it's off to Place du Capitole for the first stop, Place Wilson after that and so on and so forth around the city's squares and gathering spots until they've unloaded all their freebies and the blue army becomes exactly that.

Blue.

Le Stadium, 2.45pm (French time) The Leinster team roll in. They like to get to the ground one hour and 15 minutes before any game, be it Celtic League or Heineken Cup. They drop the gear in the dressing room and then it's time for a stroll around the stadium. Already three-quarters full by the way. The kickers do a bit of kicking, the hookers throw a few balls and the jumpers practise the restarts. Just to reassure themselves.

Le Stadium, press box, 3.53pm (French time) David Knox sits on his own. That's what he does during a game. He always has and he always will. He always gets invited to pubs to watch football, football in all its various guises, but he just can't do it.

Even if it's not his team playing. Even if he doesn't care about it. He has to watch football on his own.

He's just bounded up the east stand and is sitting at a spare seat at the back of the press box, the whole pitch, the whole match sitting right in front of him.

He'll make comments to himself during the game and anything he deems of such importance to be repeated, he'll hold down the button on his walkietalkie and let Michael Cheika listen in to his views.

But apart from that odd crackled word to his coaching partner, there's nothing. Everything else is his and his alone; he can watch the match and depending on how it's going, get mad with it or get excited with it, but always on his own.

Bective Rangers' clubhouse, 3.22pm (Irish time) There's a cheer, a loud one at that. All genuine, too.

The Munster Supporters Club have set up their Dublin headquarters at Donnybrook and Brian O'Driscoll has just scored a try for Leinster.

Before that there'd been some half-hearted applause for Felipe Contepomi's three penalties but certainly none of the meanness you'd usually associate between these provinces. And why should these Munster fans be bitter or jealous? Sure aren't they here, sipping pints for 4 a pop, eating goulash from the buffet and getting ready for their own quarter-final, a stroll down the road at Lansdowne Road. They're not going to let Leinster ruin their day, that's for sure.

The back row of the Leinster scrum, inside the Toulouse half, 5.05pm (French time) Keith Gleeson is ready. He's done his homework long before this moment. In the weeks up to now, Leinster have been working on playing Toulouse, working on the little things while the Six Nations has been chugging along. Like closing down the space on either side of the ball-carrier so that he isn't in a position to offload. That kind of stuff. But Gleeson has his own particular job in mind. He's an open-side flanker so Freddie Michalak is his specialist subject.

Over the past week he's watched footage of the outhalf under pressure, how he dummies one way and passes the other when the opposition are right in his face. Game on. Jean-Baptiste Elissalde feeds the ball to Yannick Bru who hooks it back to the base. The scrum wheels a little leaving Gleeson at the prime side to attack Michalak once the ball is snapped. Two seconds later the out-half has the ball in his hand and Gleeson is on top of him. He dummies right, goes left but Gleeson gets his right hand on Michalak's shirt and forces him to pass. He does. To Cameron Jowitt.

Lansdowne Road, West Stand car park, 4.11pm (Irish time) Munster have arrived. The supporters in the space behind the West Stand watch them take their bags fromthe bus and clap them through to the dressingroom area. It's almost routine at this stage, it happens wherever they go. In front of the Paddy Power stall a crowd are gathered watching the Leinster match on a tiny screen, very few punters amongst them. A couple of players strain their eyes on the way past to see the score but they'd want to have been Superman to see it. Leinster are 26-18 to the good. Munster are just putting on their war paint.

Le Stadium, touchline, 5.16pm (French time) They're 26-21 up but Leinster are on the back foot.

Seriously on the back foot. Michael Cheika's sitting with Mike Brewer and Paul McNaughton up in the stands but those on the touchline can't hear the head coach through the communications system.

They hear his voice but not his words. What to do?

Brian O'Meara, the spare back who's travelled over, is dispatched to the stands to find out what the boss wants. He scampers up, gets the instructions and comes back down as though his life depends on it. He gets back down and there's commotion on the sidelines, a general kerfuffle. What happened? Some kind soul, in a state close to delirium, tries to explain Denis Hickie's try to him in words. Oops. Missed it.

Le Stadium, West Stand, 5.21pm (French time) Shane Horgan has just scored Leinster's fourth try but for Robbie O'Connor it's a blur. In fact it's all