Focus on Martin Comerford"This live, is it?" grins Martin Comerford as he faces a radio microphone.

The languid Kilkenny forward is, for the first time today, trapped.

Reversing towards him is the Kilkenny team bus, blissfully unaware that it is about to complete the job Diarmuid O'Sullivan set out to do. Not many man-of-the-match full forwards get mown down after the final whistle.

But then, since he arrived like a warm gust of fun last year, Comerford has been an exception to the rules. Here, he finds himself in another new situation. Thrust under his nose are several microphones and so Comerford has no choice but to talk as he moves to avoid the black and amber coach.

"Would ya look at him, doin' interviews everywhere," shouts a passing team-mate and Comerford's grin spreads wider. With legendary hurling days come the late-afternoon absurdities and, like most things in life, they do not bother Comerford one bit.

If he was a revelation in last year's final in his virgin season with Kilkenny, then he was something else here against Cork. A goal and four points from play on a day of ferocious defence and low scores and a torrid encounter with O'Sullivan, "The Rock" from Cloyne, whose meatier moments shook the very foundation of Croke Park.

"Yeah, sure Diarmuid even hit Brian Cody a bit of a dart on the way in at half-time," laughs Comerford.

"Ah, he is a very big man and I wasn't going to be mixing it with him out there - I was just trying to get out in front of him - but, ah, he's a serious man to be messing with. Yeah, we had a great battle. I only once marked him before and he got the better of me that day but, ah we broke 50-50 today."

Such is the lustrous skill in the Kilkenny attack that Comerford's casual grace and intelligence can be overlooked. But in the shadow of O'Sullivan, quivering with thunderous passion all day, the younger of the O'Loughlin Gaels dynasty stood alone when it mattered.

There were times when O'Sullivan was the predominant force of nature on the pitch, willing Cork back into it. And yet when it was over, Comerford had sacked his empire just as he did the great Brian Lohan's 12 months earlier. Nothing was made for him; his four points originated from scraps and his own ingenuity. And the goal, six minutes from time when an untidy, fascinating and treacherous game was teetering on the brink, irrevocably swung the contest.

"Yeah, I was roaring at Henry for a pass and he was telling me inside he could barely hear me but he got it out to me and I think I might have been blocked as I struck it but the deflection might have wrong-footed Donal Óg.

"It went in any way. It was a nice feeling when it crossed the line. My first goal in the championship - it's a long time coming."

Really? Your first? "Yeah. But sure I'm only around two years."

Two hectic years in which Kilkenny are changing the face of the game. Last year, Comerford's older brother Andy was captain and leader. Now, the younger man took centre stage as the brother entered in a late cameo.

"Nice to bring Andy on," acknowledges the kid with a glint in his eye.

"Did he run on or wobble on? I don't know. But he got on anyway and threw himself around. He made a bit of a difference all right, he added a bit of strength when it was needed."

For those were perilous times, with Cork pouring forward and Cody reshaping his team all over the field. All Comerford thought of during the fraught 20 minutes when Setanta and Cork ran amok were the godforsaken nights in Nowlan Park.

"The training was so tough - you would hear groans on the sideline as tackles went in and it was just so hard that I was worried we might have left a bit of it on the training field. But the tackling was great at the end there today."

In the white heat it stood to them. The reason Comerford could look O'Sullivan in the eyes and not flinch is because he is used to teak-tough full backs.

"Noel Hickey, I mark him every night at training and I wouldn't get a look in from him. They call him The Bull. He is so tenacious and fast and great under a high ball for a small man. Without doubt he is definitely the hardest full back I have ever come across in either club or training and he proved it today on one of the best forwards in the game, Joe Deane."

He talks on, the joker and latest star of Kilkenny hurling. No immortal yet like DJ and less revered than Henry but as classy as any in his own unhurried and carefree way.

"Ah, I think everything I hit went over for me - it was a very lucky day for me today," he says, tiring of the talk of Martin Comerford. The eyes scan for comrades as he start to back away. Tuxedos to fit, speeches to think of. A big night ahead.

"What will you do with your man-of-the-match award?" someone calls. Comerford turns, grinning from ear to ear. Not a word comes out. Too smart, too modest. He ambles towards the sunset of a perfect day.