THE easy thing to say to Paddy Wallace about what happened in the final minute in Cardiff last Saturday is forget it, let it go and simply luxuriate in the historic achievement. The hard thing is to ask him what it feels like to be the man who almost blew Ireland's Grand Slam.

Wallace knows only too well it could have been any one of 21 other players who gave away that penalty just inside Ireland's half, but this past week there were moments when he had to remind himself that Stephen Jones's kick did actually drop inches short of its target, and that Ireland really did win the Slam.

He's also adamant that he won't let those couple of seconds define his championship. He started three games, and has the physical scars to show for his part in Irish rugby's greatest season, but the mental scar left by the feeling that he so nearly trod on his teammates' dreams is still a bit raw.

"It's hard to celebrate or to enjoy it right now. I was relieved after the game, but relief doesn't cover it," he says. "Okay, we got across the line, but whenever I reflect on it now and think of what it means to the whole country that we won the Grand Slam, I find it hard not to imagine what it would have been like had I taken all that away."

If anything, gallows humour rather than unconfined joy has kept him afloat. The day after the game, Ronan O'Gara was asked what he was thinking about as Jones lined up the kick. "I was thinking I was ready to kill Paddy," he deadpanned. And when Wallace was asked to explain why his hands reached for the ball at that fateful ruck, he said he reckoned the game needed a bit of excitement.

He still feels a bit like the fêted soldier returning triumphant from the battle with a dark secret in his pocket. Others who have been through more traumatic experiences might scoff at how conceding a penalty in a game of rugby could cause someone stress, but to Wallace and the rest of the players, just about everything they had worked for was on the line at that moment.

"When Jones prepared to take the kick, I was really aware of the significance of it. If I wasn't thinking those exact thoughts at the time, I know now that it was probably a life-changing moment. I was numb with the tension and the anxiety, and that's dissipated a wee bit. Guys can joke about it now, but how could I have walked into that dressing room and looked my teammates in the eye had the kick gone over?"

He's talking about it because he's aware that burying a moment as potentially seismic as that could be damaging, but he hasn't sat down and watched a recording of the game just yet. "I mightn't look at it for a bit. I know it's there and it's all going to be part of history now. The joy is a bit compromised, but it's been quite a long career arc getting to this point and I'm delighted to be part of a Grand Slam."

That delight looked as if it might turn to devastation as the Millennium Stadium clock moved into the final minute. Wallace had been sent in to replace the injured Luke Fitzgerald just after Jones had given Wales a 15-14 lead. It was time enough to clear out the ruck in David Wallace's slipstream that lead to O'Gara's match-winning drop goal, and time enough to be standing on the brink of history with the other players.

Alun-Wyn Jones took a pass from Mike Phillips, and shook off John Hayes's challenge before being tackled by Donncha O'Callaghan. With a poacher's instinct, Wallace reached for the ball just as Tony Ward and Ryle Nugent were both pleading for, "No penalties, no penalties", in their RTé commentary.

"I felt I was in the right at the time. In hindsight, of course you wouldn't go near the ball. You'd sit back and defend and wait for them to make the mistake. Wayne Barnes is not a ref who usually calls 'It's a ruck' and he doesn't call 'Hands off' either. I came through the gate, I was on my feet, I had my hand on the ball, it was one of those things that happened. I don't know if Barnes said anything, I can't really remember. I was in such shock. The massive significance of it suddenly dawned on me."

He's not too sure how people would have reacted if Jones's kick from 48 metres had been struck fractionally better. "Obviously, if someone gives away a penalty in say, the Magners League, and they kick it and you lose the match, that guy is not going to be well-liked in the immediate aftermath by his teammates. He might also get a bit of stick from some supporters. But that's on a different level to a Grand Slam, an historic accomplishment that hadn't been achieved in 60-odd years."

Down on the pitch as the players gathered for the presentation of trophies, he looked like someone who had dodged a bullet, and knew it.

O'Callaghan, who had also incurred the referee's wrath on a couple of occasions, sensed Wallace's turmoil. "Thanks Paddy for giving that penalty away at the end, otherwise I'd be taking some stick," said the second row.

Alan Gaffney mentioned that if he hadn't been penalised, Wales might have worked their way into Irish territory and knocked over another drop goal. Back at Ulster training, he had "good chats" with both Matt Williams and Mike Gibson about what had happened.

"I realise that other guys like Donncha, Denis [Leamy] and Jamie [Heaslip] were penalised as well, but they weren't going to be remembered. It would have to be the ultimate one at the end. But, look, even if I feel I can't sit back and enjoy it just yet, I'm 29, I've been training with the squad for maybe seven years on and off, and in that time a lot of good players have come and gone. So it's really nice to have accomplished something with Ireland."

His sleep might be disrupted for a while by that nightmarish image of Wayne Barnes, right arm raised signalling for the penalty, and when he put his hand on that ball, there was a collective groan from nearly 1.5 million Irish people, but history has ordained that Paddy Wallace won't go down in sporting lore as the man who blew the 2009 Grand Slam.

A country is thankful, and so is he.

mjones@tribune.ie