"Any man that puts in 100 per cent, he's as valuable as DJ in his way." - John Power, July 12th, 1999.
It has become one of the game's more emblematic sights, that of John Power hunched forward on a physio's table after a match, lean and copper haired, bloodied and utterly unbowed.
The Kilkenny man must harbour countless little scars and blemishes, tokens of faintly remembered matches, the importance and details of which are long blurred. Power is one of nature's indomitable forces, an icon to those whose souls are replenished by qualities such as undiluted toil and ceaseless spirit and iron belief.
The man's very name rings true with the traits which have, for the second time in his career, seen him emerge as the pre-eminent centre forward in the country. Although this year's Leinster final made for drab viewing, Power was the story with his swashbuckling drives and brilliant touches.
"I was away in France on holidays and caught snippets of the game on the radio," recounts John Stapleton, PRO for Power's local club, John Lockes. "Then I heard Con Murphy saying that Power had been sensational and I had to ring home straight away to hear what had happened."
And he would have been told, of course, that Power had shown vintage form, a throwback to the days of the early 90s when he claimed a pair of All-Stars to match his All-Ireland wins.
It was an afternoon of redemption, a rebirth after injuries and a year by the wayside in 1998 with attendant ghosts. It was also, of course, an afternoon, that finished on the treatment table. Scar number XXXX: Broken hand.
"Ahh, it was kind of an accidental collision thing with Kevin Martin's head I think it was. It began to swell up straight away so I had to come off. I'm kind of disappointed with it really, the pain hasn't really left.
"I trained there on Saturday with the county team and it wasn't great to stroke with. More time's needed but sure we haven't got that. A few painkillers will have to do."
It would take a lot to prevent Power from taking the field in Croke Park tomorrow. As monumental as this game is for the emergent Galway players, as central it is to the Kilkenny players desperate to redress two years of near-perfection, this All-Ireland semi-final is of sacred import to John Power.
Two years ago, it looked as if his days in the black and amber were behind him, when Kevin Fennelly decided that the Lockes man could offer no more. "That's all water under the bridge, all that matters is that I'm back hurling and enjoying it," says Power now.
And perhaps he is right. Fennelly was a good man who sought to shape a team as he saw best. Those close to Power believe he was deeply and quietly devastated by the sudden exclusion and, on more than one occasion, he vowed privately that he would return.
In the wake of the fractious 1998 All-Ireland loss to Offaly, Eddie O'Connor, Power's former captain in the glory days of 1993 publicly chastised the manager for the decision, declaring that "Power was the man for centreforward".
When Brian Cody was installed the following autumn, Power became a contender again and a gate that he had perhaps closed with finality in his mind was dragged open again.
"It was a thing you had to think about, there were doubts there and I was asking myself `am I a fool or what'. But then I love hurling and it's a hard thing to give up and I felt that, if I hadn't given it a try again, I'd hate to be missing out.
"So I said `to hell with it'." His battle cry. A braveheart in cats' stripes. Around Callan, Power is a folk hero. John Lockes is one of the county's oldest clubs, founded in 1902.
It takes its name after a sometime poet who was born in Black '47 and went on to become an IRB activist serving time in Kilkenny jail for his beliefs before ending up as a journalist in New York.
While in the States, he met and married a local woman, Mary Cooley from Kilkenny city, and died aged 42. His name lives through the club and knowledge of his poetry is still extensive in the area. Power is Lockes' favourite son.
"John just loves to hurl, it is his pastime outside of farming and he is devoted to it," says Stapleton. "For such a fiery creature on the field, he is a quiet, shy sort of fella away from it.
"He has a young family and his wife is also very athletic so they are sports orientated. The whole town loves John Power. We won the Intermediate recently and he spent the night standing in with people who wanted their pictures taken with him.
"He celebrated gladly even though he is not a man who likes the limelight. But, not so long ago, I met himself and the brother, Pat, driving cattle on the road. Pat was on a bike and John was running along behind, giving a big friendly wave. That's who he is, an honest man who loves his work. That's who people rarely see."
Power is strong-boned and long-limbed and, even in his mid-thirties, retains a gangly kind of grace. His adaptability has seen him switch from wing-back into his present position, although he himself claims that defence would be his preferred role.
"I would always see him more as a wing-back," agrees Christy Heffernan, Kilkenny's former talisman. "He is a natural defender but his work rate and ball-winning abilities make him extremely effective in the front lines.
"John is not a forward who is likely to score much - but he has shown more inclination to strike himself this year. I've played centre-forward myself and it's a thankless position. He fills it so well, breaking ball, winning it, laying if off. He does that so well."
The transformation did not occur without painful moments. In '93, Dermot Healy (Kilkenny manager in 1990) recalled Power had been a fairly loose defender, more of a ball-player and hence suited to the demands of the front lines.
He accepted the move without complaint. "The years were traumatic for him and he began questioning and only gradually regained his confidence." Resolute character shaped his game, for better or worse.
Once established as a forward, he began to find his game, learning, sometimes painfully that he was not a man for the highlight score from distance. But his personality echoed through the Kilkenny lines.
"I played inside him a few times and he is not a man you'd find yourself tellin' very much to," chuckles Christy Heffernan. "Like, at full forward, I would have said to him the odd time to do a certain thing and he'd shoot back, `sure amn't I doin' that'.
"You'd quickly stop telling him. He has a mind of his own and just gets on with it." His influence was all encompassing, the perfect foil to DJ's sublime genius and the stickcraft of Eamon Morrissey.
In 1993, Kilkenny appeared to be untouchable, back-to-back champions and high-flying. The next year, they were scalped by Offaly and haven't won an AllIreland since. The great years turned to dusty medals and faces on the street.
"It's as if it was a 100 million miles away," says Power. "At that time, we seemed to be close to All-Irelands for a lot of the time and I suppose we took it a bit for granted. The pressures were the same then, but it's a lot more even across the board."
Power has added a few new lines to the legend in the meantime, however. Few in Galway will forget his slashing, invincible minutes in the second half of the 1997 quarter-final when his second-half introduction changed the entire mood of the game.
Power created benign havoc and DJ made music in the chaos. He dismisses his contribution to that fine comeback. "Ah, sure DJ was flyin' it that day. I don't know that I'd much to do with it. But those Galway lads were young then, lost their way a bit. They'll know a lot more when we meet them in Croke Park the next day."
He has changed little in aspect in the intervening years. Never a drinker and naturally active through his work, Power has been well served by the years and answered his own misgivings about the wisdom of coming back.
Perhaps the trumpet notes for his return to grace were heard last year, late in the All-Ireland semi-final. Clare were listing and Power surged through the heart of the half-back line, for so long a stonewall, half-dropping the ball to the turf before clipping a divine pass.
"It doesn't get any easier out there. That's helter-skelter stuff," he sighed afterwards, in the midst of receiving a single stitch for a head wound. "You just throw yourself in and hope for the best."
And that's where we'll find him tomorrow, lost in the fury, a spirit after John Lockes still, unbowed and unquenchable.
