INTERVIEW WITH DONNCHA O'CALLAGHAN:THE WORLD really is moving at a helter-skelter pace when you realise Donncha O'Callaghan turns 30 next month. Wise old sage or "veteran" doesn't really sit easily with a serial joker who's retained the same boyish good humour and straightforward character he's always had. So imagine how he feels.

It could be, of course, that his best years are now coming up, even though it could also be he realises these days won’t last for ever. He’s desperate to make the most of them, all the more so as you can easily forget they were a long while coming.

“Honestly, I’m not just saying this because it’s the standard line but it really does make you appreciate every one of them. I really did kind of serve an apprenticeship and the mindset now is that you don’t want to let anyone in, you don’t want to give anyone a chance, you want to play well every time you’re in there, you want to put the foot down and make it special.”

O’CALLAGHAN IS one of three players from the 1998 Ireland Under-19 World Cup-winning team coached by Declan Kidney. Unlike Brian O’Driscoll (if not on the scale of Paddy Wallace), O’Callaghan’s rise through the professional ranks wasn’t exactly meteoric.

Typical of his hard learning curve, two of the games that defined his career were at the outset of his time with Munster and came a year apart. In the foot-and-mouth affected campaign of 2000-01, he was pressed into service as an emergency blindside flanker in Munster’s semi-final defeat to Stade Français in Lille. Little went right for him and his performance was roundly pilloried.

He stewed for a year, reappearing on the Heineken Cup stage in the semi-final exactly a year later as a late call-up to the bench for Jim Williams and then a 15th-minute replacement for Anthony Foley in their win over Castres in Beziers. He had some demons to exorcise. “I remember Claw (Peter Clohessy) was sinbinned so I was taken back off and I was honestly sitting back down in the chair thinking, ‘This is it. For a year you’ve been a bit of a ****ing joker to the lads’. We get a bit like that, thinking that you let them down and stuff like that. And I knew, ‘Right, c’mon on here. You’ve 60 minutes to throw it down and win their respect again.’ And that’s what it was about. A year is an awfully long time to carry baggage like that.”

Helped by Gregor Townsend unerringly picking him out with restarts, O’Callaghan didn’t let anybody down second time around. What doesn’t break you can make you, or as O’Callaghan firmly believes, “You don’t lose, you learn.”

The coach who gave him an extended run in the Munster secondrow the following season was Alan Gaffney, after a lengthy apprenticeship behind Mick Galwey, John Langford and Mick O’Driscoll. “It was in the mix there, it could have gone any way, but Gaff started picking me and I got my nose in front, really. So I was kinda glad of the new blood at the time, because at the time I was thinking of heading away,” he admits, in references to approaches from Wasps and others at the time.

There were also approaches from Stade Français and, especially, Gloucester a couple of seasons ago. Learning a new language cooled him on the idea of Paris, and though he was deeply impressed by the honesty and work-ethic of Dean Ryan, and the Kingsholm set-up, winning medals anywhere else but Munster wouldn’t have been the same, and he knew it.

“I played against Rog’s (Ronan O’Gara) brother in school, I know all their family. The same with Frankie (Sheahan), I know Joey (Sheahan). Little things like that just tie you to guys and wouldn’t happen anywhere else. Munster’s different. It is really a family.

“We don’t (just) go in and train. We hang around together the whole time. The Cork fellas are really tight, the Limerick fellas are really tight. When we went on (pre-season) tour to America it was incredible. We were saying: ‘Jeez, we could have this the whole time if we were in one centre.’ It’s something you have to buy into as well though, isn’t it? It’s only special if you make it.”

SO SPEAKETH The Joker of the Munster and Ireland dressingrooms. “I think it’s easy to kind of portray that, the jackass who does something silly every now and then. Sometimes it’s easier to think you’re a fool and to do the ghoul every now and again.”

He’s the fourth of four boys after Eddie, Ultan and Emmet, with a younger sister Emer, which explains an, eh, boisterous upbringing. “It was madness, I suppose. With my dad dying young, my mum (Marie) had a philosophy that we’d all look after each other. Sometimes you wonder were we really looking after each other. You’d be getting fellas killed or looking for mischief. It happens with all families with a load of young fellas. We were a bit wild, probably, but it made for good fun around the house.”

It was his oldest brother, Eddie (whom he claims was the most skilful of them all, but also the only one who drank), who advised O’Callaghan to curtail his excesses prior to the Lions tour. Citing Lawrence Dallaglio, Neil Back and other “legends”, his older brother asked him if he thought they wanted a joker, “or someone that they know is going to put it in?” “That rammed it home,” says O’Callaghan.

Mind you, it didn’t stop him (and Paul O’Connell) pulling down Alistair Campbell’s tracksuit pants after a press conference, or the sight of him on the Lions DVD walking into a travel agent in Test week and asking for a good holiday destination the next day.

O’Callaghan is chairman of the entertainments committee – no better man – along with Tomás O’Leary, Tommy Bowe, Stephen Ferris and Jamie Heaslip, who is having a bad week. He was contacted by representatives of Snow Patrol with a view to them putting on a private gig for the squad before they played at the 02 Arena. Rather ill-advisedly, Heaslip turned the approach down on the squad’s behalf, reasoning that some of them were going to the concert anyway and the squad were going to the movies on the night the private concert was mooted.

As punishment, Heaslip was obliged to sing a Snow Patrol song over dinner and to write a letter of apology and read it out to the entire squad on Tuesday.

“Our biggest concern is that Snow Patrol think we’re a right shower of assholes. Imagine Snow Patrol offering . . ? Another one of his punishments is that he’s not allowed to make any decisions on his own without running it by two other people.”

His room-mate Bowe and O’Leary are kindred spirits, who O’Callaghan likes to hang out with. O’Leary is writing a song, which they tried to get him to sing for Christy Moore when he performed for the squad on Monday night, but O’Leary declined as he reasoned Moore would rob the lyrics from him and it would go to number one.

Ferris, by contrast, is a straight, down-the-line member of the committee. Any half-witted ideas are knocked on the head by the Ulster flanker, and that’s usually the end of the matter. “I love him. He’s the most direct, straight-talking fella. He’s like Hayes. He’s good value and he doesn’t let us get too far ahead of ourselves with some of the ideas we have.”

ALL IN ALL, it seems a happier camp again. It helps that Kidney has moved the training camps around the country, and given everyone Tuesday nights and most of Wednesday at home. But then, of course, there’s one rather important little detail. They’ve been winning.

“There’s been campaigns when we’ve been losing and it’s tough work. You win and it gives great confidence, and you want to hang around with fellas. The dressingroom is a great place to be after a win. You get an hour or two there and you don’t have to worry about anything else.”

By Wednesday, or “down day”, The Joker is usually giving way to the rugby player, and though it’s a rest day, he finds himself thinking ahead to the weekend’s match and “goal-setting”, be it tackle count, clear-outs. Such down-and-dirty deeds on behalf of the team are typical of the selfless, unstinting work O’Callaghan brings to the team, all in the mighty shadow of the fellow alongside him.

“He’s an incredible player,” says O’Callaghan of Paul O’Connell. “He’s taken it to a new level. You know when you play with him. Like, I’d be a good man for watching stats, and his are through the roof. And you just know from playing with the fellow they’re at a different level. But I’ve never had a problem with that. I know he’s a special player and someone who deserves special credit.”

Inspiring too. The pair of them would talk about trying to out-do the other, and not always politely. “If you played with us or if you asked some of our team-mates, you’d wonder do we actually get on. We’re harsh judges of each other on the pitch, barking non-stop at each other.”

If O’Callaghan’s huge all-round contribution and donkey work are largely overlooked in the public eye, that’s fine by him. “I really don’t give a **** how I get perceived once we win. I’d love to be carrying the ball more and when I broke onto the scene I was one of the main ball carriers, but this role doesn’t reflect it in the balance we have in the team.

“Laurie (Fisher, Munster forwards coach) has been getting on to me about getting on to the ball more but sometimes you have to be selfless and realise there’s messy jobs that have to be done and someone’s got to do ’em. I’d love to have a canter up the pitch and I’m not shying away. There’s maybe times when I could step up more but I always pride myself on having a high work-rate. It’s a hugely important thing to me.”

The ensuing dedication and professionalism required seems to come easily to him. He says he bounds out of bed every day, grateful he couldn’t have a better job in the world. “Personal Bests” recently confirmed to him the conditioning work done with the Munster and Irish fitness staffs have him peaking physically for this stage of the season, which only increases his confidence.

The Lions are in the back of his mind, but he’s experienced enough to realise if he plays well for Munster and Ireland, and if both are successful, then whatever happens, happens. “It’s a huge honour that you’d give your right arm for. But I’ve never gone into a game thinking, ‘This is a big game for pushing my Lions cause’.” Two more wins would go a long way to pushing his and his team-mates credentials, but they’re not even allowing themselves think that far. History has taught them not to.

“You know the way it is, if the shoe was on the other foot, you’d be licking your lips at them coming here.”

So no grist for the Scottish mill. It’s not even something Kidney has to reinforce. The core of the squad have been close too often, and the four changes have only underlined the need to look no further than Saturday.

“Sometimes you look at this team and you wonder should we have more than we have, and I think that’s definitely the case. You can shy away from it as well, but I’m looking on it like a semi-final this week. If we play for 80 minutes we can determine whether we have another huge 80 minutes left or whether we under-achieved again.”

Spoken like a wise oul’ sage.

‘I’d love to have a canter up the pitch and I’m not shying away. There’s maybe times when I could step up more but I always pride myself on having a high work-rate. It’s a hugely important thing to me