HEINEKEN CUP CLERMONT AUVERGNE v MUNSTER: Keith Dugganhears from the Munster wing about how he moved from Kilkenny hurling to a glorious might against the All Blacks in Thomond Park
ON A dark lunchtime at the University of Limerick, students hurry across the campus through steady sheets of December rain. For all the athletic facilities here, indoors is the place to be.
The sports cafe is doing brisk business, and sitting among the college kids are the Munster rugby players, wolfing down lunch during a break from training. It is an odd sight. For a group of athletes who provoke fanatical choruses of worship when they appear in the Thomond Park stadium across the city, nobody is paying a blind bit of notice here.
Doug Howlett sits back in the corner, like a student in slacker mood who has no intention of making his two o'clock lecture. Paul O'Connell stands in line at the buffet counter, causing the chef to double-check he has enough pasta in the pot. Here are the most famous names in world rugby. Roughing it, as they say.
It would be easy for Munster to make arrangements to lunch in seclusion. But perhaps that would run against the philosophy that underpins Munster rugby.
"It is part of it," Ian Dowling concedes when he sits down in the same cafe later in the afternoon, when classes are back on and the place is sleepy.
"And maybe it is why fans relate to the team so much. We aren't isolated from them. If we are here, fans come in and watch training and there is always time for them afterwards. The majority of us are Limerick based and we are in around here using the gym.
"We are a fairly common sight at this stage. We might be in for breakfast in the morning or after training. It is really convenient. But look, it's not like we are anything special. We are ordinary people. This is just our job."
Dowling's ability to stay grounded must have helped him enormously in his seemingly faultless, hop-skip-and-jump from Provincial Towns Cup rugby to commanding a place on the most potent club team in Europe.
Hurling was his fascination as much as rugby when he grew up in Kilkenny city, and he famously showed up for the Heineken Cup final of 2006 sporting his O'Loughlin Gaels GLC club bag as a lucky charm. He expected - and took - plenty of sledging for the gesture from his team-mates.
But he was independent enough to do it, and, when he talks about the evolution of his professional career, he constantly refers to the value of those obscure, formative experiences.
"The bag went back to my first season. We had lost a Kilkenny county final but the support we got was unbelievable. I was only a substitute, but I will never forget the reception we got that night from people in the club. It was as if we had won the thing.
"So I often used the bag after that - it was like having a bit of home with you. It helps you relax. And of course the boys let me know about it. You have to get used to that. I get it the whole time. The whole time.
"Just 'cos I am from Kilkenny and they are a bit bitter about the hurling success," he says, grinning because, for once, there is nobody around to challenge him.
He delights in wearing his Kilkenny heritage as a badge of honour. Even when he talks about that transcendent night against the All Blacks, he mentions he was acutely conscious of where he had come from as he lined up for the spine-tingling Munster prelude to the haka.
Playing for a supposed shadow Munster team was the source of the performance they gave that night. When Dowling talks about that match, his eyes widen and he sounds more like a fan than one of the key participants.
"We felt there was respect to be earned. We wanted to show people that it didn't matter what 15 took the pitch, that we could do Munster proud. The emotion had been building all week. It will stick with us forever. You know, there is something to show for a Heineken Cup. But this was just one night with nothing at stake except pride.
"Dougie (Howlett) talked about going out there as if we were brothers. And so that night, the emotion was really high. It could have gone either way - we might have got it wrong and wasted energy. But it was an unbelievable feeling.
"It honestly felt like you were looking after your brother inside and he was looking after you. There was a stat thrown up that we missed 36 first-up tackles. That is a ridiculous stat. But that was all masked by guys hunting inside and ploughing in behind each other: you knew that even if you made a mistake, you would be covered."
A fortnight on, sitting on a drizzly December afternoon, the result gnaws at him a little more than it did in the heady aftermath, when Munster's defiance was celebrated in every rugby outpost across the continents.
With 10 minutes left, there was a rare break in play and Dowling had the poise to step out of himself for a few seconds to survey the scene: maybe half a dozen of his team-mates laying stretched for cramp or pure fatigue, the crowd baying and the grave concern etched on the faces of the mighty New Zealanders.
"I remember the Sale game a few years ago with (the bone-crunching early tackle on Sebastian) Chabal and there was a break in play and the crowd were just chanting, and we looked across and we knew their minds were all over the place. Thomond Park does that to players.
"The best number 10s can come there and find it tough. (All Black outhalf Stephen) Donald won't be the last number 10 to experience that. So yeah, it did get to them. But we were aware of how dangerous they are and we couldn't think about the clock. Even though it was getting closer and closer. Four minutes is like a lifetime.
"Afterwards was a great week and I am sure we gained a few more fans. But we have nothing to show for a season as a whole. A bit of silverware now would be nice."
The great key to Munster success has surely been the sense of togetherness they carry: the principle that the 15 who do not play on match day matter as much as those who do.
"It can be a difficult place to be when you are not in the 22," Dowling admits. "But if you feel like you are learning, then you can deal with it. So even if you are not involved, you have this opportunity to train hard and get a jump on someone else. You can't sulk. If you do, nobody wants to be around you. Just get on with it."
Dowling had all but packed his bags following his graduation from UL in Sports Science when he was offered the chance to sign with Munster. His rise was steady and stealthy. He had played on a strong Kilkenny RFC team before Mick Galwey advised him to join Shannon after he started studying in Limerick.
He admits it took him a while to feel like he belonged in Shannon. In 2004, when the club were closing in on the AIL, he was named on the bench for the Cork Constitution game. "I got on with five minutes to go - I was against Anthony Horgan. And getting that gave me extra confidence. I trained all summer."
An excursion into Ireland's nascent rugby league team preceded a commitment to Shannon and a series of eye-catching performances that convinced Declan Kidney to recruit Dowling on a development contract. He hasn't looked back.
"I feel I have been fortunate but not lucky. Because I have earned whatever I got. In my first full season with Munster, I had fits and bursts. Being honest, I was learning my trade. The games against Castres and Sale went well. Other games I found hard to get involved in and the final was difficult.
"I was delighted we won but I didn't feel I was contributing as much as I could have. I am not a traditional winger who stays out wide. These days, working with Tony (McGahan) and Jason Holland, learning to read when to get stuck in or hold my width is part of it. I am always learning.
"You always pick up things. I remember last year, I missed Dougie a couple of times against Gloucester, just with his lines of running. He was there for the off-load and it would have made life much easier for the team because he ran such good lines I would say he was under the sticks. He was just, 'Next time', and we would talk about it afterwards. I finally picked him up against Saracens. But people like Doug and Rua and Rog, you can talk to and learn from all the time."
He wants to keep pushing forward. He would love an Ireland cap but candidly admits it is out of his hands. There are more immediate matters to preoccupy him. A December trip to Clermont and all the Gallic hostility that Munster could want; these are the weekends on which Munster earn their stripes.
Last January, he didn't travel to Clermont as he had torn medial ligaments against Connacht. He called around to Paul O'Connell's house. The captain was nursing an injured back and he kept making pots of tea as a nerve-wracking spectacle unfolded. They were the most pathetic fans of earth.
"It was horrible. We were just drinking tea and shouting. You feel so useless because all you can do is scream at the television. And the boys were brilliant at the end."
Ian Dowling laughs at the memory and prepares to make his way home through the filthy afternoon. Like he says, ordinary people - at least off the field.
