Some Say the Divil is Dead. But for a man who was waked and mourned all across Kerry last week, Páidí Ó Sé certainly looked splendid as he glided across a Westmeath dance-floor yesterday afternoon.

The Greville Arms is where Páidí declared the dream alive and well and coloured in maroon. On Main Street, Mullingar, the Greville is a grand old dame of a hotel, handsome and rickety, and yesterday its lobby was quaking in expectation.

Boys filched off school. Men stood and murmured under plumes of smoke. And a confederation of regal ladies broke away from high tea and scones because of the fuss. This was no ordinary day.

In its ballroom of romance we crowded, under the heavy gold-framed mirrors, the exotic vine tree, tiptoeing on its lush red carpets, sweltering although there was a nip to the sparkling October afternoon. We waited, though for what nobody was quite sure.

Páidí as Westmeath manager, yes. In abstract, it was easy enough to swallow. But the bunting, the welcome signs and the front of the Westmeath Examiner made it all so official. It was like hearing Jagger had left the Stones and would be touring with Joe Dolan.

Some 30 minutes after he was expected - "he must be havin' the breakfast, dinner and tea all at once," noted one of his audience - the show began. To the theme tune of The Sunday Game, Páidí strode through the first of many standing ovations. From our vantage point we saw him move through the fair, an apparition in pinstripe, in rude health and high finery. The Greville's wooden floor has not creaked under the strain of so many bodies since Lady In Red was at number one. And then, to thunderous acclaim, Páidí rose onto the platform, a salutary fist in the air, a face of quiet triumph.

This was familiar stuff, jubilant and emotive and redolent of the classic political rallies that buoyed the famous party names of this, the Lake County. Grassroots theatre. Then came the opening address, faltering at first but pitch perfect at the end.

"Ladies and gentlemen, at my last press conference, I made a statement at the outset that it is nice to be amongst your own when the going gets tough. Well, today is a different day for me. It is a day when I am starting out on a new journey.

"In Killarney I did say I would find it very, very difficult to go back into management again. I suppose it was a bit of frustration, a bit of - how would I put it - something that was burning inside me after 33 years. And not having consulted with the boss at home after 33 years. Not knowing what kind of a reception I would get when I went home to tell her I was going up to the midlands.

"I threw my briefcase in the door first to see would it be thrown out to me. But by God, it wasn't. I was told away you go and the best of luck to you."

That set the tone. The gallery whooped. The Kerryman smiled. Páidí spoke of Kerry often and softly, the syllables as familiar on his lips as those of a lover lost. You could see, under the bright lights, that he was wrestling to reach harmony with a great and controversial past now sundered and this, a bright and uncertain departure. 1931 and 1949 are the lone Leinster championship years for Westmeath, unfathomable history for Páidí, who grew up collecting prize medals like bottle caps.

"I am not the type of man that, if things go wrong for me up here, will turn the sword on people here or on the players," he promised. "That is not how I do business. I would not have been involved in Kerry football for 33 years if my heart was not in the right place."

Being Páidí though, the keynote was defiance. Meeting Kerry in an All-Ireland final "would be the best challenge that I will ever get in my whole life".

"The only thing Mick O'Dwyer ever influenced me on was winning All-Ireland medals," he said. "I shall never look back now. I shall look forward."

With each sentence and vow, the air grew hotter so that when Páidí pulled on the beloved maroon jumper, anything seemed possible. Through the back slappers and smiling children and merely curious he floated, on towards Dublin and destiny. Back in the high life. And Some Say He Rose Again.