There are so many Ger Loughnane moments covering a bewildering range of moods and events that it's hard to think of one which perfectly captures his six years in charge of Clare hurling. This one comes closer than most. At the end of last year's All-Ireland quarter-final against Galway which ended in a draw after Clare had trailed by nine points, Loughnane reflected on the great escape, cajoling reporters with his usual evangelist's zeal.

"Don't always be looking at the end result lads," he said. "Enjoy the road a little. That was one of the greatest spins you could have there today. Good road, breathtaking scenery, the lot."

It's fair to say that all followers of hurling have enjoyed the spin over the last six years. The novelty of Clare's emergence brought with it a new power in the game, intelligent and focused players, huge crowds of passionate supporters, abundant controversy and, above it all, the dominant personality of Loughnane - a cross between a shaman and Colonel Tom Parker.

In his good moods, he was an extraordinary spokesperson for the game, vivid and analytical at once, someone in whose exuberant homilies hurling found modern expression. As the Guinness ads went up and the crowds rolled in, Loughnane orchestrated the ruthless aggression of modern competitive sport with a contrapuntal lyricism.

The media loved him in those early days because of his engaging honesty. He asked nearly as many questions of the interviewer as he answered. He buzzed with enthusiasm for hurling and for Clare, thought out loud, discussed sports journalism specific and general.

Back then the mantra was all about speeding up Clare's game and that was what he achieved. Brian Lohan's comments in the aftermath of the resignation reiterated this priority. The emphasis on physical preparation was directed at producing a team fit to raise the pace of its game, but there was more to it than that.

From goalkeeper to centrefield there was a technical assurance which enabled the ball to be moved quickly, and if that expertise was always in shorter supply in the forwards, there was James O'Connor and a supporting cast which frequently produced decisive individual displays.

This was complemented by a ferocious desire. When the lack of scoring power up front kept opponents in closer touch than the general exchanges warranted, there was always the feeling that Clare's inflexible will would win out in the end. The decline of recent years came from the blurring of the margins and whereas such matches weren't lost, they weren't won at the first attempt.

That then was the road, the spin, the scenery, but it wasn't all. If Loughnane had simply roused a downtrodden county, and brought it success, there would be no great pondering of his legacy, which is rather more complicated.

The central question to any assessment of Loughnane's career has to be: does the end justify the means? How much of the house should you wreck in pursuit of home improvement? Because - and make no mistake about this - the methods wrecked the collegiality of hurling. It was all very well to reflect in tranquility that he got a bit carried away, that he was a plain-speaking man, and all the other faint admissions. But bridges were burned all around. And those on the other side never quite saw the conflagrations as great gas, the things that passionate fellas say when they're worked up.

A small example from this week: this newspaper approached a number of hurling personalities in order to elicit their verdict on the Loughnane years. Four refused to comment, an extraordinary reluctance given that the dust had settled and the subject was walking away from it all.

For Loughnane, the outbursts which created this enmity were easily dismissed. For those on the receiving end, it was different.

Something seemed to happen to Loughnane during 1997. This was the team's best year but it was marked by undercurrents of resentment - diatribes aimed at Liz Howard the Tipperary PRO, the then Cork Examiner (ironically to become his most fervent media supporter), and Eamonn Cregan, The Irish Times and Sunday Game analyst and now Limerick manager.

This darker side became more pronounced the following year with the whole succession of controversies, from the routine naming of dummy teams to the Colin Lynch affair, complete with its unsubstantiated allegations and the assiduously cultivated siege mentality. Although Loughnane stood over these excesses in Thursday's interview with clarehurlers.com, his mood over the past two years had has mellowed somewhat.

Gone forever, however, was the easy relationship with the media. To an extent, the publishing of inaccurate teams was a non-issue. If naming of bogus selections brings an advantage to teams, managements will indulge in it. One criticism of this ploy was that it humiliated the player pencilled in as the discard.

I once asked one member of the team - admittedly not one whose place was ever at issue - was it not the case that being set up as a dummy pick was just one of those unpleasant things which went with the territory, like killing yourself training at Crusheen. He agreed.

Although Loughnane remained a lucid commentator in dressingrooms after matches, he became distant and erratic in other dealings with the media, failing to turn up for agreed appointments. None of this impacts on Loughnane's hurling credentials but it mirrored other antagonisms surrounding the team.

The Clare players are a particularly intelligent and articulate bunch and were well equipped to maintain equilibrium during the wilder moments of Loughnane's tenure. But similarly they recognised and admired the vision and perseverance which led the county to the promised land.

Loughnane knew that the game was up after the Tipperary defeat a fortnight ago. If he erred in his timing, it was in not going a year ago, when his original lieutenants Michael McNamara and Tony Considine were replaced. A complete change would have represented a more appropriate opportunity for a fresh start.

It was never likely that Loughnane would have been simply a hurling evangelist with great powers of leadership. He is a complex individual with motivations only occasionally hinted at, and it's sometimes easy to see him as some great dispenser of vengeance for past wrongs.

The county board which shafted him as under-21 manager after the 1992 Munster final ended up with Loughnane leading them by the nose. Traditional powers such as Tipperary and Cork, especially, who had blighted his playing career, were subdued and brought to heel during Clare's hegemony in Munster.

Some insight was offered unwittingly by his reminiscence that Examiner reporter Jim O'Sullivan had been the only journalist to congratulate him when he won his first All Star. A quarter of a century is a long time to store such a memory, particularly when the All Stars are selected by journalists in the first place.

Yet at the end of his long and historic tenure, the verdict has to be that for all the distractions, Loughnane has been a hugely influential personality in the history of the game. By revitalising a traditionally under-achieving county, he has done an immense service to hurling both in Clare and the wider community.

All those who greatly admired him in the early years will hope that in retirement, his turbulent spirit will find peace and quiet. It may be the end of the road but the journey has been long and immensely worthwhile.