Amid the bear-hugging and high emotions in the immediate aftermath of Ireland's victory at the Stade de France, Peter Clohessy and Keith Wood managed to keep the tears at bay. That was until they looked each other in the eye in the dressing-room.

"We bawled our eyes out. We were sobbing uncontrollably," recalls Wood, laughing at the recollection. Not that you'd call either of them, especially Clohessy, softies, at least not unless you had the engine running.

Over an hour beforehand, while French outhalf Gerard Merceron was practising his place-kicks, Clohessy came out in shorts and a track-suit top, looked around, walked across the path of Merceron's kicks and to accompanying whistling and booing, dug his studs into the ground as if to check the surface while Merceron had to wait. They hated that. Then he sauntered off and sidled up beside Mick Galwey.

Last Sunday week in Paris mattered more than most games, in Clohessy's case perhaps more than any other. "It was special for me anyway, because my memories of Paris aren't great. The first time I played there I got the shit kicked out of me, and also the second time, and the third time I played there I got cited afterwards and got six months' suspension. So I always had a bit of a sour note about it. But my memories of Paris now will be of beating them, and forget about the rest of it."

No announcement was more roundly booed in Stade de France than Clohessy's name. Which, of course, only made him roll his sleeves up more. He takes the abuse "with a pinch of salt". "Everything really" still stands out. "I remember telling Gaillimh (Mick Galwey) about 20 minutes into the match I was shattered. The Irish crowd was unbelievable, to see Brian O'Driscoll going over for the three tries and the sweetest thing of the lot was when Humphs (David Humphreys) kicked the penalty to go ahead. "Even with two minutes to go and two points ahead, you wondered were we really going to do it? Overall, I suppose the full-time whistle. I'll remember that one for a long time.

"After the game we went into the dressing-room and we sang a song. It was a long time since we'd done that. A Long Way from Clare to Here. Woody's favourite one. We'd really given it everything. When we sat down we were totally drained."

At the outset of the season there was a perception that this was going to be Clohessy's swansong. Not now, not after this campaign, and certainly not after Paris, when le plus ancien of the Irish team (as quaintly described in the match programme) produced a mighty performance - excellent ball carries, top-notch scrummaging again and half a dozen tackles. If Brian O'Driscoll's all-round brilliance and game-breaking tries undoubtedly made him man of the match, Clohessy was next in line.

His 37th and best Irish performance ever? "Overall, I suppose it was," he admits reluctantly. "It's easy to play well individually when a team is playing well." In style, too, this team suits him, for he's always had great hands.

Clohessy says this "definitely has to be the best" Irish team he's played in. "The back-line that's there at the moment has to be one of the best back-lines we've ever had, and certainly since I've started playing. The overall team has to be one of the best."

A happy, Munster-orientated, winning environment helps too. Amazingly, Clohessy has only been on a losing side four times this season, his back injury in the World Cup proving Ireland's loss as well as his own, and Argentina's gain.

"He enjoys the added responsibility of seniority," according to Warren Gatland. "He has that experience, and whenever he says something, it's always from the heart. He loves the game, he's passionate about it, and that comes across in team meetings or in the dressing-room."

Thirty-four last Wednesday week - his mate Galwey remains a mere 33 - Clohessy seems to be maturing like a vintage wine. Another one-year international contract is a certainty, and he might go on for another year after that.

"I was always hoping I'd play for another year or so. Definitely another year," he says now categorically, "and sure you never know after that. Maybe two years."

Wood describes Clohessy and Galwey as "dinosaurs". "Himself and Gaillimh are a dying breed, almost extinct, in that they are not professionally athletic rugby players. They are players who thrive and survive on heart and passion and unbelievable desire, which supercedes physical fitness.

"They've both worked incredibly hard and have changed their ways to try and come to terms with the professional game, but still they're a rarity. When they do ultimately retire, I don't think we'll ever replace them."

For all the burning desire which rages within, Willie Anderson didn't give them the moniker of "under-12s" for nothing. They may, er, be more professional these days, but they're still jokers, whatever the game.

Watching Munster beat Connacht in the Sportsground last August, one could see the two sets of forwards traipsing across the field for a line-out from a long Ronan O'Gara diagonal kick. Galwey was red-faced with laughter, whereupon Clohessy tripped him deftly from behind.

"Connacht had brought on this replacement in the front row who was mad for it and full of running," recalls Galwey. "As he came towards us with the ball in his hands, I said to Claw (Clohessy) `yours'. Claw said: `it is in my . . . .', but he got the brunt of him anyway. I was breaking my heart laughing as we ran across the pitch and then Claw tripped me. It was one of those staggered falls, it took me about 20 yards to go down."

Even then he got up laughing. Good to see they're still taking the game seriously then.

There's no doubt that the pair of them buck the trend of the modern-day professional rugby athlete, but their coaches appreciate this, for if there's one comment which best exemplifies what it is that Clohessy brings to a team, it's Declan Kidney's. "I'd rather have Claw 80 per cent fit and 100 per cent committed than 80 per cent committed and 100 per cent fit," said the Munster coach.

When analysing what makes Clohessy tick, it is of course his ticker. He has a huge heart. There are none bigger, and it is this - coupled with a fierce competitive streak - which prompts Wood to draw comparisons with Roy Keane.

"I always compare the Claw with Roy Keane. You see it in his face, the absolute determination to do as well as he possibly can."

Wood reckons Clohessy has never been fitter than he is this season and Wood has possibly played a significant part in that. Opposites attract, they say, and they've been two peas in a pod on the Munster fitness treadmill this season. "He's worked his socks off this season and he's fitter now than he's ever been."

Clohessy admits that the advent of professionalism and stiffer punishment for foul play have helped to temper his temper, though not completely mind. If he lost that, he'd lose his edge, what Wood might call the Keane edge.

With typical pragmatism, he scoffs at the notion that money has in any way besmirched the game. "Whether you're getting paid or not you'd still play it. It's a bonus to get paid to play, for something you enjoy doing.

"There would be less craic. Before it went professional, when you went on tours you'd really enjoy yourselves. Now you'd just have to watch yourself, have a couple of pints after the match on a Saturday and that'd be it."

And that was it after Paris? Hardly. "That was a special occasion, in fairness."