The end unravelled quickly under a dull haze in Clones last June. In what was an almost poignant last throw of the dice, PJ McGowan had penned the names of seven of Donegal's 1992 All-Ireland side on his team sheet to play Cavan in the Ulster semi-final.
Declan Bonner was listed at corner forward and had whipped over a couple of points before a lumbering tackle snapped his lower ribs early in the second half. He disappeared through the tunnel for 10 minutes of treatment, and, as he stepped back onto the turf, he realised that Cavan had torched his side for 1-4 and that it was over.
He spent the fading minutes of his career in pain, watching lean, hungry, young Cavanmen trample all over the bones of five summers ago. No sepia-tinted afternoon for the scrapbook, just another Sunday of hollow loss. And trotting up the sideline was his old teammate, Martin McHugh, still urgent, imploring, sleeves rolled high on his Cavan sweatshirt.
Could any of them have guessed, in the heady days after the All-Ireland, that it would finish like this?
"I wasn't really aware of McHugh until then," Bonner recalled earlier this week. "Perhaps during the warm-up, yeah, you would have noticed him in the dugout with Cavan and that was strange. But when I came off, I was just concerned with the injury. Then, as I sat on the bench, I saw him on the line and just thought, well, Martin's done a good job." Three weeks later, McHugh and Stephen King brought the Ulster championship home to Killeshandra and Donegal set about finding a new manager. McGowan's tenure was up and, inevitably, many of the 1992 statesmen were considered as possible heirs.
Bonner took a call the night before the nominations were due, mulled over things for a few hours and eventually agreed to let his name be put forward. The issue was clean-cut, the other nominees just melted away and allowed him to secure the post uncontested. He had just turned 32.
"The whole thing happened quickly. I was in Cavan the morning after the Ulster final and people were asking me who was getting the Donegal job. I honestly didn't have a clue. When I was approached, I talked it through with Catherine, my wife, and felt that there was talent enough to work with."
He took charge at a curious time in Donegal football history. In 1994, Brian McEniff took his leave after the side he had lovingly crafted simply crumbled on a sodden championship Sunday in Breffni Park. McGowan bravely picked up the slack and muscled through a three-year period which was largely characterised by frustration. Donegal lost two National League finals before being relegated last year. They scorched All-Ireland champions Down in the first round of the 1995 Ulster championship, and were promptly humiliated by a Monaghan side who haven't been heard from since.
"It was just bad luck. PJ just didn't get the breaks," reckons Bonner. "He came at a bad time. It was always going to be difficult to emulate what Brian (McEniff) had achieved, even though in Brian's last year things had started to fall apart. Some of the results we had were just hard to figure out, because the county always had talent."
Bonner's own attacking sorcery was pushed to the periphery thanks to a prolonged spate of injuries which severely hindered his post-All-Ireland career. His back took a hammering during the 1993 league semi-final, and although he played in the side which lost to Dublin in that year's final, it cost him many long hours on the physio's table.
After taking a break at the end of the McEniff era, he played for the county intermittently, struggling to rid himself of the niggling back injury. Only in April of 1996 did he seem set to make a full return, and he was named in the starting line-up for the league quarter-final against Wicklow at Croke Park. He bent low for a ball and took a kick in the back for his troubles.
"I scored 1-4 in the same game, but the blow I got was bothering me, it kept tightening up. I was in fairly severe pain on the way back and, when we stopped in Virginia for a bite to eat, I was passing blood. They took me to Cavan hospital and then straight back to Dublin for kidney tests. I was operated on the following night."
The diagnosis was extremely serious and Bonner was advised against kicking a ball again. The notion stung; he had just turned 30. Still, recuperation alone ensured that his contribution to Donegal during the McGowan years was limited to a handful of games, culminating with last June's dispiriting exit in Clones.
Time to walk away. But any plans he might have had to spend winter nights watching Coronation Street were shredded with his appointment as McGowan's successor. His immediate priority was to sever the links with sentiment.
"I knew the time had come, that we needed a fresh start. I mean, there are very few of the old faces left now. I knew from watching the club games that there was plenty of talent in this county and decided we had to go with younger players and rebuild."
The ink had scarcely dried on his contract when he was faced with his first decision. John O'Mahony rang. Mayo, the All-Ireland finalists, were opening a pitch at Balla and needed some opposition.
"I asked around and people said we'd be crazy to go to Mayo with them getting ready for the All-Ireland, that we'd be ripped apart. So I said, `Right, we'll give this a go', and rang about 25 lads. I think nine of those who started had never played for Donegal before. And we lost by four points, but the boys learned from it and we walked away with pride," he recalls.
Bonner insists that he, too, learns with every game, sifting through each sequence of play, gauging his won reactions to situations. And he has stubbornly clung to his principles.
When he fielded his first league team last October, many Donegal fans were left staring quizzically at the match programme, and at least one was heard wondering, "Who was that wearing Manus Boyle's jersey". Donegal eked out a solid win in Longford that day and have improved with each game since. They carved strips through Derry's defence a few weeks later, and then travelled to Lurgan to play Armagh. On a tense and murky afternoon, Donegal overcame two dismissals to fashion a gutsy away win.
"That was a nasty game, maybe we all got a bit carried away during it. But although we didn't play particularly well, the young lads came of age there," sums up Bonner.
A fortnight later, Donegal were host to Meath in what was a much more sedate affair in Ballyshannon. They chased a draw and found themselves looking down on their Section B opponents at the Christmas break. With games against Westmeath, London and Antrim ahead, promotion and a return to the league play-offs are viable prospects for Donegal. But the manager remains cautious.
"I suppose it would be a lot more difficult if we were sitting here on a couple of points. We have some good results now, but we have to keep looking. Some of the new lads won't make it, a few of the older lads are coming back, so you just keep looking for a balance."
Bonner wisely retained the core of the old guard, integral players like Manus Boyle, Barry McGowan, John Joe Doherty and Noel Hegarty. Senior citizens amongst a bunch of fresh-faced upstarts.
One of Bonner's most impressive new stars has been Brendan Devenney, a cheerful wisp of lightning with a supremely accurate shooting touch which spearheaded Letterkenny club St Eunan's drive to last summer's county final.
Bonner cuts an easily recognisable figure on the sidelines nowadays, with the shock of orange hair and the quick, distinctive stride. Looks as though he could still keep pace with many of his charges.
"Do I miss playing? 'Course I do. There is nothing to compensate for the game itself, anyone will tell you that. But there was no option."
This decade has dealt the quietspoken man from the Rosses some strange twists. He was simply prolific at the outset, relentlessly pursuing glowing statistics: 3-21 for the league in 1991. He popped over 0-19 in the championship the following year. Kicked frees unerringly for the All-Ireland champions through the winter of 1993. And even though his back was hurting in the build-up to the league final against Dublin that April, he insisted he was alright to play.
"Maybe in hindsight it wasn't the wisest thing, but we were on a high, I just didn't want to miss any part of it."
He was 27 at the time, a natural at his peak and playing with the most highly-lauded full forward unit in the country. Those days were giddy with wondrous possibility. How could he have known that it would be three years before he would start a match in Croke Park again? Walking off the field that afternoon, he had every right to believe that the best times were some way down the road. And maybe they still are.
