THEY'RE back. Eoin Kelly hitting 12 points in Nenagh last Sunday, three of them from play, a return that for him constituted little more than a normal day at the office. Ken McGrath manning the centre of the Waterford defence at Wexford Park with his customary blend of poise, swashbuckle and high anticipation. Tommy Walsh going into the Parnell Park tackle with a little more cutting than usual while never being less than Tommy Walsh.

Henry Shefflin didn't play last Sunday, but he did line out the previous weekend in the All Ireland club semi-final at O'Moore Park. And he wasn't wonderful either, but here's the thing. Out of touch or bypassed for long periods, outhefted by Benny Dunne under successive Shamrocks puckouts midway through the second half and scoreless from play for 55 minutes, Shefflin kept his nerve, held onto his patience and eventually popped up with the assist for Cha Fitzpatrick's game-breaking goal and the pass for the 61st-minute point that gave his team the lead for the first time in the game. In summary, he did what the very best players learn to do. He paid his fare on a day when the ball had a mind of its own.

He's back. They're back.

Blessed are we to have them.

The identity of the Hurler of the Decade to date? A pointless and contrived exercise, you may respond. An interesting and necessary one on a non-hurling Sunday in February, we'll respond.

Bear with us anyway.

With seven National Leagues and seven championships contested to date in the decade, the race might be called thus: Shefflin in front, Kelly a neck behind, McGrath a length or two adrift of them and Walsh steaming up on the outside. Feel free to disagree . . . we'd be appalled if you didn't . . .

but our rationale is a straightforward one. These guys have done their stuff over and over again, season after season, championship after championship.

Polestars rather than shooting stars. Form temporary, class permanent: a formula at once as simple and, for the rest of us mortals, as inaccessible as E=mc 2. Shefflin's two Hurler of the Year trophies bearing more than ample testament to his achievements, here's an addendum to consider before moving on. In his six All Ireland final appearances, the Ballyhale man has hit a total of 2-34, 2-12 of it from play, the latter figure only 0.3 of a point short of Eddie Keher's average from play on the big day in Croke Park. Praise in excelsis.

But Shefflin wears black and amber. That Eoin Kelly is jousting for the title despite not having appeared in an All Ireland final since 2001 or an All Ireland semi-final since 2003 arguably says more about him than the bare cadaver of his career tally of 10-194 in 29 championship outings. It's easy to forget now, and widely has been, the knots he tied the Waterford defence in during the first half of the 2002 Munster final, or how close he came to turning matters Tipp's way against Cork during the closing 10 minutes two years later in Killarney. Ollie Canning's performance in the 2003 All Ireland qualifier in Salthill, moreover, is celebrated largely because it was Kelly he had for afternoon tea.

With half a yard more of pace, Kelly, the king of the over-theshoulder point, would be untouchable. As it is, the only mild criticism one can make of him in the circumstances is that he doesn't score enough goals from play, even if . . . far more significantly . . . the points have been clocking up for years now. To which the obvious reply is that, with better service from the men around him, he would score more goals from play.

And yes, Kelly did put two green-flag opportunities into Donal Og Cusack's paw in last year's provincial decider, a failing the Tribune attributes in part to a syndrome that seemed to afflict Martin Storey in the first half of the 1990s: the belief, or knowledge, that if he didn't do the scoring, nobody else would. It remains for Kelly to make a Munster final, an All Ireland final and a championship his own. He at least has time on his side.

His former colleges colleague Tommy Walsh has almost single-handedly disproved the old saw that the tag of 'versatile' amounted to a euphemism for "crap in every position". Walsh began 2003 at right-corner back in the opening match of the league at Walsh Park. He finished it at left-half forward, lancing over the first point of the All Ireland final off his left hand under the Hogan Stand, a score that . . . straight outta Tullaroan, with a hundred years of hurling history behind it and the ghosts of Lory Meagher and Paddy Phelan blowing it over the Railway End crossbar . . . was the equal of if not better than Tommy Dunne's storied opener from the far side of the field in 2001.

Since then, Walsh has won All Stars on four different lines of the field, with his form at left-half back last summer . . . tight, watchful, playing his position as opposed to taking on every ball and generally trying to be head bottlewasher . . . an indication of a boy becoming a man. Still Harry Potter, but an apprentice wizard no longer.

Ken McGrath saw in the decade by giving a creditable impression of a man who was going to beat Tipperary on his own in the 2000 Munster quarter-final at Pairc Ui Chaoimh before injury finished him and Waterford. On Munster final day three years later, when his decision-making was only marginally less off-beam than his accuracy, he never stopped looking for the sliotar. Fitting it was, then, that it should be his salmon leap that secured the last crucial ball versus Cork in 2004. A shame Waterford can't photocopy him and have McGrath the left-half forward fastening onto clearances from McGrath the centreback.

Around the four of them we've fitted 11 others on our work-inprogress Team of the Decade to date. Although beauty remains in the eye of the beholder, even the best will in the world cannot furnish a wider spread of counties; where the 1990s saw six different names engraved on the McCarthy Cup, the current decade has seen three. No apologies either for choosing players out of position; this is the Tribune'sXV and we'll fit them in any bloody way we want to, so boo sucks to you.

Liam Griffin spoke here last week, in relation to Brian Whelahan, of the very best players having "so much time on the ball". Ronan Curran, who gets our nod inches ahead of Seanie McMahon, possesses that quality in spades, plus a smoothness of stroke off both sides that rivals if not surpasses Ken McGrath's (though, oddly, it seems slower), plus the resilience to recover from a forgettable 2005 and claim his third All Star last year. Form temporary, rememberf Sean Og O hAilpin has made the leap from being a supreme athlete who hurled to a splendid wing-back. JJ Delaney squeezes out Michael Kavanagh and Brian Murphy: a judgment call. Canning was a force of nature for three or four years. Noel Hickey, whose quiet ruthlessness made a difference in two tight All Ireland finals, shoulders aside Diarmuid O'Sullivan, whose record in Croke Park has been better than his record in Munster. In recognition both of his box-tobox athleticism and his status as an emblem of Cork's reinvention of the wheel, Jerry O'Connor is a no-brainer at midfield.

Paul Flynn rattled over 13 points in an All Ireland semi-final and rewrote the narrative of two Munster finals with goals from close-range frees. Much as onlookers have frequently felt like giving him a good shake, no modern hurler has made us spend more time grumbling about what he hasn't done than appreciating what he has: call it our fault, not Flynn's.

John Mullane makes it for those patented, light-footed electrical surges of his. Martin Comerford, Kilkenny's second most important forward since 2002, has seamlessly succeeded John Power as the county's huntergatherer and boasts a far better scoring record besides. Joe Deane, more than the sum of his individual parts yet a counterpuncher rather than a knockout merchant, is another judgment call.

Finally, goalkeeper. Up to two years ago, conventional wisdom placed Davy Fitz, Brendan Cummins and Damien Fitzhenry together on a ledge above the one occupied by Donal Og Cusack and James McGarry.

These days, the Tribune would quite happily accept any of the quintet as his goalie. On this particular day we'll go with Cummins. Just don't regard it as a binding contract.

They're back. Ignore greybeards who drone on about the giants of bygone days and their mighty shadows. Blessed are we indeed.