There's a strange contradiction about Brian Stynes. Most people would look at his career and see success written all over it. That he could walk away at any stage and look back with satisfaction, with no shortage of good times to relay to the kids.

At 16, he helped maintain Dublin's hold on the Leinster minor football title. He spent the next five years in Australia where he tackled their native game like it was his own. And in 1995, a couple of years after returning home, he was singing All-Ireland tunes with a Dublin team lauded as saviours of the city's football fervour.

Yet to gain total satisfaction, he needs to win another All-Ireland. Still only 28, despite what his mileage might suggest, Stynes hasn't lost any of his craving for football, because he hasn't yet lost any hunger for success. Now, more than ever, he wants to experience the peak again.

"I like to think there are a few more years ahead," he says. "I look older than 28, I'll admit that. But I know I haven't got much time left. I mean, when I won the All-Ireland in 1995, having just lost one in 1994, of course I thought I'd win at least another two or three. And now, I'd just love to have one more. Personally, to be fully successful, I think I need another All-Ireland.

"For me, time is running out, definitely. Even at the start of this year, some people were saying I was finished. And I very much believe that football is like most sports in that you're only as good as your last game. If I go out the next day and play badly it means I'm nowhere and I have to prove it all over again. And people will be saying again that I'm finished."

This afternoon he heads into the Leinster football final replay in the sort of form that injects fear into the opposition. A fortnight ago, he was at his influential best against Kildare, pushing and pulling the ball from midfield and generally running himself into the ground.

"The first thought after that game was still disappointment in that we went out there to win. It meant we had to go back, train and prepare, and try to produce it all again - both mentally and physically.

"And the standard at that level doesn't make it particularly enjoyable to play. I mean, it is very hard work. You put so much into it that it is very draining and, with the draw, it was sort of an anti-climax.

"But, of course, when we sat down and thought about it, we realised we were still there and it was still in our own hands. And then, after a couple of days, you've forgotten about the first game and are just thinking about the next one."

A memorable game nonetheless, despite the side-effects of serving up a rush-hour performance. "Sure, I was hurting for a couple of days, but that's the same with any championship match. You do put a lot more into it than a club game or even a league game and you don't seem to get as many knocks there either. In that way, it takes a few extra days to recover."

Few players of the generation know Croke Park better than Stynes. He lost that 1988 All-Ireland minor final to Kerry, and, after the five-year stint in Australia where he met his future wife, he came straight back into the Dublin panel in 1994 - still only 23. By the time Dublin won the All-Ireland the following year, he had made one of the midfield positions his own.

"For me, in many ways, it's been two careers. A lot of early success and then five years with nothing. But there are some big differences now to when I was 23. Back then, I had nothing else to think about but football. Now we've just had our second kid and obviously there's a lot more happening there.

"You've got to think about their livelihood and looking after them and whether they might be sick or whatever. So, obviously, I don't think about the football as much as I did when I was younger.

"But when I go out on the field, the buzz is the same as it always was. Maybe even more so now that I know I'm nearing the end of my career. That competitive side is still the main reason why I play football. And I love representing Dublin, there's no better honour for me and no better feeling."

There have been sacrifices to keep him at the top of his game, cutting out the sort of foods that most other people enjoy and turning down trips to the pub when it's a lot easier to say yes.

Training wise, he's taken a break from Dublin around Christmas for the last two years, mostly because he was feeling somewhat burnt out at the end of the season. Instead, he would do his own stuff, a lot more long-distance running and weight training rather than just football. And he's found that much more beneficial.

How rewarding it has been has rarely been questioned, but, lately, there have been thoughts about what might have been.

"I've been lucky in that I started out in an amateur game, and managed to get to Australia, where I got an education as well. "And, recently, the International Rules have really helped keep my career going in terms of success. We won two of them while I hadn't won anything in Dublin for the last five years. And it's a fabulous honour to play for Ireland, something I always wanted to do ever since I saw the first compromise rules.

"But, financially, yeah, I do feel I've missed out, but I'm not bitter over it. What does bother me is when I sit and watch soccer on TV, or even think about my brother Jim in Australia who has done so well.

"We're getting massive crowds to our games and the players don't see any of it. Of course, you don't mind so much when you're starting out, but, over the years, and when you have a family and other people are doing all the overtime at work, and you can't do it because you're training, sometimes not even the work that you're meant to be doing.

"Of course Gaelic is rewarding when you win and I wouldn't give my All-Ireland medal back for any money, but only one team out of 32 win each year, and some players will never get to win anything.

"It's a very tough system and I'm fully behind what the GPA are doing, even though it's going to affect the next generation more than myself. I want my kids to play the game, but I know when they grow up they'll be looking at the other attractions of rugby or soccer or whatever, if that's the only place they can make any money."

This has been an unusual championship for Dublin, especially as the anticipated meeting with Meath never materialised. But ask Stynes if he believes this is a team that can go all the way, and he answers cautiously.

"Well, last year, or even the year before, I would have said we could do it then and it didn't happen. Every year I've played in this Dublin team I always thought we were good enough to win it. But it's just a matter of getting the right blend on the day, the bit of luck and just clicking as a team.

"But this year we haven't been given much of a chance. It was only after that showing against Kildare that the supporters starting talking big again. And, to be honest, all we were thinking about for the six months before the championship was playing Meath in the final.

"When they got knocked out, it changed a bit of our attitude and we hadn't thought about Kildare a whole lot. But I played them in 1994, my first game against them, and they were six points up before we sneaked a draw. So I've always regarded them as a good side, very hard to beat."

The nerves still run wild on each trip across the city to Croke Park. "Sure, I still feel the pressure, again because I'm running out of years and you tend to realise how much it can really mean. I might have played quite well the last day, but some people will say that if I had scored that last free we would have won.

"There's always room for improvement and I won't be satisfied about this next game if I don't play just as well, hopefully even better."