It's fitting that Whelahan has called it a day not long after DJ Carey did likewise.

The pair of them, who made their full intercounty debuts on the same afternoon in 1990, were the two supreme hurlers of their era - or, as Liam Dunne put it to me the other night, Whelahan was "the DJ Carey of the backs".

For me, Whelahan's greatest strength - and he had many of them - was his anticipation. He was a supreme reader of the play and was blessed with exceptional spatial awareness. As a result, he was what could be termed a non-confrontational defender. With Whelahan, the sliotar was everything. Like Muhammad Ali, he floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee.

Like all the truly great players in different sports, he seemed to have so much time on the ball.

On the other hand, not all the true greats were surrounded by men as competent as Whelahan was surrounded with for Offaly.

He had Kevin Kinahan and Martin Hanamy, two very capable defenders, behind him. He had Hubert Rigney and Kevin Martin, two fine examples of understated competence, alongside him.

He had Johnny Pilkington, a midfielder of boundless energy, in front of him. In short, Whelahan was blessed with the colleagues he had. By playing their individual parts, they allowed him to be himself, while the physical hardiness of Hanamy and Martin meant the Offaly defence was never a soft touch. They did the unglamorous but oh-sonecessary little jobs around the place at the same time that Whelahan was providing the artistry. The balance was ideal.

His striking was clean and fluent off both sides. His swing was tight, with the result he didn't need much space to get his clearances away, and his sidestep was a considerable asset to him.

Whelahan on the front foot was one of the most significant weapons in Offaly's armoury. When he unleashed those precision-guided missiles to the likes of John Troy and the Dooleys, a scoring attempt was the almost inevitable outcome.

We in Wexford were only too aware of this prior to the 1996 Leinster final, when we sent Larry Murphy out with specific instructions.

Don't let Whelahan out with the ball, we told him.

Don't let him break the tackle and get his clearance away. Larry did exactly as he was told and proceeded to have the game of his life. By deploying a forward to act like a defender, we stopped Brian Whelahan. By stopping Brian Whelahan, we stopped Offaly. Simple!

Except it wasn't. Only rarely. His nerve and temperament never let him down, which is why Whelahan was so effective on so many big occasions. Again and again he did it for Birr and for Offaly. It is nothing less than the truth to say that his displays in the second half of the 1994 and 1998 All Ireland finals helped turn defeat into victory for the county, indeed. One other match that sticks out in my mind is the third game against Clare in Thurles in 1998. I'd love to know how many of Joe Dooley's points that day originated from Whelahan's stick.

Tell me most of them did and I wouldn't be remotely surprised.

His place in hurling's pantheon would be assured even if he hadn't been selected on the Team of the Millennium.

The game has never been short of fine wing-backs. Jim English was a stylish performer in the position on the Wexford team of the 1950s.

Bennettsbridge's Seamus Cleere was a magnificent stylist with Kilkenny in the 1960s.

Jimmy Cullinane of Clare and Denis Coughlan of Cork were two other prime examples of the species, while anyone who watched hurling in the 1980s will have admired Joe Hennessy. Yet Brian Whelahan was the most graceful of them all.

Nor did I see him pull a dirty stroke. I say this not for the sake of it but to emphasise that Whelahan's game was based on different principles and priorities. He didn't pull dirty strokes because he didn't have to.

That was Brian Whelahan.