May 1998. Twilight falls over Parnell Park and Charlie Carter reminisces over 70 minutes of joyous hurling, eyes ablaze and fervent. He is preaching the virtues of the firm sod as though beneath it lie the very mysteries of the game.

"People said Kilkenny didn't hurl well over the winter, but we never hurl well unless we have a dry sod," he says, nodding back towards the pitch which is now empty and darkening. Then he departs in short, light strides, radiating the quiet assurance of a player who is certain of where he stands.

It wasn't always so. Charlie Carter spent the early part of this decade fighting for breathing space in a panel burdened with naturals. "It wasn't the easiest thing for a 19-year-old to come into a squad like that, it could be intimidating at times. There were so many lads there then, Christy (Heffernan), Adrian Ronan, DJ was there, Eamonn Morrissey. There was a wealth of forwards about and it was no mean feat to get your place," he reflected this week from his home place in Gowran.

Growing up in Gowran, it appeared as though everyone hurled. It never even occurred to him not to and from the day his father put a hurl in his hands, he was aware of the black and amber. He wanted to wear it ever since, on a September Sunday back in 1979, he saw Liam `Chunky' O'Brien loft a `65' which sailed into the Galway net.

Like most youngsters, he played out All-Irelands in his head. An elusive wraith, with a small frame, he was quick enough to play himself onto the county minor team of 1988 to face Cork in the All-Ireland Final.

"You got the shivers running out there, it was a daunting place," he recalls of Croke Park. He played on a full forward line alongside DJ Carey and Adrian Ronan; they hit 27 between them.

To this day, he savours that medal more than those which followed. Honours are tempered by participation and Carter was "only on the panel" when Kilkenny won back to back All-Irelands in 1991 and 1992. It was frustrating for a youngster who had the audacity to fire home 14 on his senior debut at home to Dublin, but he was philosophical about it. Even when he failed to get the recall the following autumn, his resilience remained intact.

"It's tough alright, getting dropped. Every manager has their way, some write letters, or you might see it in the paper. I can't remember how I found out to be honest. But you just get on with club hurling. You'd feel guilty about not giving as much to the club when you're involved with the county and we were going well then in Gowran, so I just concentrated on that." Gowran is one of those small country parishes which manages to produce successive generations of able hurlers unhindered by the restraint of small numbers. Carter's peers rose steadily through the junior ranks, taking the county title around the time he was originally drafted into the Kilkenny senior panel and have since established themselves as seniors of substance, contesting a county final last year.

The local progress was significant in his inter-county rehabilitation, but there was never any doubt that he would eventually hurl for his county again. Maybe at 19 his initial break had come too early.

But his rebirth coincided with the end of the dynasty; Offaly, starved and mutinous, put paid to Kilkenny in 1994, beat them again in the following year's Leinster Final and in 1996 they were stung by a Wexford side hurling to the strains of Liam Griffin's prose.

"1993 is a fair while to go without silverware, we are starting to forget what the Cup looks like. But it's brilliant to be back there, there is a good buzz around and crack with tickets and, by God, people about here are hungry for it."

Last summer, Kilkenny were again over-run by Wexford, but progressed via the experimental `backdoor system'. Their second half showing against Galway instilled a mood of giddy possibility created by the new system.

"I thought we hurled well in the first half as well. The openings were there, we just couldn't take them. We were lucky in that we had a League game against Cork and that put us back on the rails."

But Clare, with their disregard for the weight of history, beat them in the semi-final and they idled through such an uneven winter that the sages hinted at a May defeat in Dublin.

"All that talk about us in the winter, most of it was bull. We always believed we could step it up and expected to be in contention this year - we have no divine right but Kilkenny people do expect success off their hurlers and I suppose that rubs off."

That Kilkenny are guaranteed further championship action regardless of tomorrow's outcome will be of little solace to the players.

"We were gutted last year after the (Leinster Final) loss, it really didn't feel any different than if we were out for a while. Offaly are a steady team and a win on Sunday would mean a lot to both counties."

And for Carter personally. He is thrilled to be hurling at this time of year. Demands on his time wash off him. He rises early to farm - "sure who doesn't get up early these days" - and is gone four or five evenings a week. Only in spring, when the farming routine is particularly intense, does it become taxing. But rarely will you find him complaining. It is, after all, what he has always sought.

"It should be a great game, tough and fair. When you play at this level, you expect nothing easy, but it's a game every player from around here wants to play in."

This season expects much of Carter. When Kilkenny hurl well he is mesmerising to watch, jinking and unhurried, possessed of an inherent style which in ways mirrors DJ's. A decade's worth of hurling lore has been spun since they both picked up a minor title and Carter politely but firmly refuses to talk about his illustrious team-mate and his recent flirtation with retirement.

"I'd as soon not discuss that. I'll be hurling with the man on Sunday," he laughs.

Which was all he ever wanted. So he has arrived now, a purist on hard ground.