Everyone in Connolly's company had reacted much the same way for, in a way, one of their own had caught that ball and scored that goal. The goalscorer was Gerry McInerney, once of the famous white boots and jet-black long hair, now Gerry McInerney, 42-year-old manager and impact sub with Kinvara. Farrell had to smile himself; as McInerney's own 14-year-old son and team waterboy, Sean, would run on to say a couple of minutes later, it was a "great goal!" The white boots might have long been consigned to the attic and another pair of them auctioned off but there McInerney still was, still with the jet-black long hair, still hurling away, still loved and revered.

There's not a Galway man outside Portumna, Farrell can safely say, that wouldn't love to see McInerney and Kinvara win today, and not a man in Portumna that would begrudge them either. Kinvara can boast of a lot of things . . . like being a beautiful fishing village and gateway to the Burren honoured in song by The Waterboys . . . but it has never won a county.

The last time Kinvara played in a final was 1979 when the Connollys and Castlegar denied them, and even if it seems he's been hurling forever, even McInerney was too young to play then. The only time they got within a sniff of a final since was in '94 when Athenry pipped them by a point in a semi-final. It's been a long wait and long struggle back . . . only last year they were in a relegation battle, again . . . yet here they are, daring to dream, daring to win.

Portumna, says McInerney, are to be respected, and he'd "have good old time for Joe [Canning]" but he's not that concerned about them.

In the likes of Colm Callanan, Ger Mahon and Shane Kavanagh, Kinvara have their own county men, their own future stars. "It's the way we perform that counts, " says McInerney, wearing jeans, a hooded top and woolly worker's hat which temporarily conceals his trademark flowing hair. "It has nothing to do with them [Portumna] really."

That's what always struck Farrell about McInerney, that's why he'd always parachute him back from America and into the Galway starting 15 . . . his inability to be unnerved by any opponent, occasion or convention.

"You could tell him he was on Nicky English or Declan Ryan and because he was in America for most of the year, he wouldn't know them. If I mentioned some aspect of their play which he should look out for, he'd just grunt as if to say, 'Don't be bothering me with that stuff, who the hell is this fella anyway?'" The last day against Castlegar, Farrell spotted McInerney pucking a ball against the wall before the game like a kid without a care or fear in the world. All he could see was the ball. Thus it has always been. Even when McInerney returned home for good in the early '90s and Galway and Tipp were nearly overlyfamiliar with each other, that outlook never changed. During the course of the 1993 All Ireland semi-final which he would dominate from centre back, Tipperary would move three men off him . . . English, Ryan and John Leahy . . . something McInerney was oblivious to.

McInerney has always been a free spirit, yet a grounded one too. He didn't wear the white boots for show; it was just that they felt the most comfortable shoes in that Stateside sports shop that particular day.

When Jimmy and Kate McInerney returned from England in the '50s, they bought farmland gripped by the sea and, growing up, young Gerry and his eight siblings would farm the land and fish the sea. Days could be spent cutting and pulling seaweed or chest high in water, chasing lobster. As a kid you could make handy pocket money from it but you couldn't make a living from it and one time in '85 himself, Sean Treacy and Pete Finnerty went over to New York to play hurling for a weekend and McInerney didn't go back. Within days he'd got a job as a carpenter and a few weeks later, his future wife, Ita, had joined him Stateside.

Home and hurling would always have a hold on him though. Spring and early summer Sundays would be devoted to Gaelic Park and the New York championship, a competitive cauldron back then, while most weekdays he'd often rise at six to go for a run in Van Courtland Park in Yonkers where he'd admire the snow mounting on the sidewalks and dream of making the team back home for the All Ireland semi-final.

Every year he'd make that team, even when Galway were winning leagues without him. As Farrell would point out, McInerney must be the only player to win two All Irelands before he'd ever played a league game. Come championship Farrell knew that peerless half-back line had to finish Finnerty, Keady and McInerney.

They were great men and great days ("There was some strength in that team, " says McInerney. "And some speed.

I know the game is faster now, but Jesus, I don't know if there's still anyone as fast as Martin Naughton") but the great days didn't last forever and neither did America. At the end of 1990 McInerney came home and helped run a pub in Ballinasloe. It wasn't that the economy had picked up here ("The pub went well at the start; a rural pub always does when you have a recession"); Ita and himself had married and were just after having baby Colleen.

"Back then, drugs were rife in New York, " he says. "Now they're rife over here while they've cleaned up a lot over there."

He has no regrets though, not even about the pub he finished with ("Always wanted to try it; great experience"). Oranmore, on the outskirts of Galway city, has been a fine place to raise the kids. It's there where Colleen, now 18, started to play basketball, a sport she's represented Ireland in, and the two boys, Gearoid and Sean, try their hand at every sport.

There's hardly a day though where he's not in Kinvara.

Jimmy and Kate are still going strong at 91 and 86, and a lot of the work his own company, Gerry McInerney Construction, do is around his own homeland, even if he's anxious it doesn't become overdeveloped. "We can't let it get spoiled like Barna. The planning they gave up there, blocking off the sea, crazy." He still does some farming, some fishing and, of course, some hurling too.

The coaching is something he only took up a couple of years ago. It was no great vocation, it was just that the time was right and it seemed the right thing to do. He approaches it like life itself . . .

keep it simple and keep it fun, even if at times it can get hard.

"When you're training with the lads, in the muck and the shite, it's great, that you can drive them on, bring them with you. I thought about stepping down as a player last year but with all the injuries we had, I had to play and sure I was still enjoying it. Even earlier in the year, I went down to junior for a few games and it was great craic.

I don't golf, so I might as well hurl. Sure if you can still do it, you're as well off to do it."

He doesn't know if he'll come on today. If the team is going well, he might not have to. Either way he'll relish it and has told his players to do the same. It's a big game alright but sure isn't that great? Isn't this what they trained for? The parade, the crowd, the buzz; it's all to be enjoyed, not feared.

McInerney is to be cherished too.