Uproar in the underbelly of St Tiernach's Park. Joe Brolly is still the small screen darling, all smiles and soundbites. Geoffrey McGonigle is caught in the narrow corners, somewhere between the dressing-room and the streams of officials blocking off avenues.

"Well, I just remember Anthony (Tohill) putting a ball in. I pointed at him to direct it wide, but it came in straight and I just flicked it into space. My first thought was to hit a point, but I saw Joe in space and you don't pass Joe up at times like that. I like getting him scores, he's a nice fella," he laughs.

Derry fans had howled their approval when big Geoffrey trotted in and straight away, he teased them with a close call. "Aye, that was a chance. You have the keep the crowd on their toes," he winked.

Joe Brolly may have competition. In the dressing-room, quiet delight reigns. Brian Mullins hails his heroes individually. No time to comment now, thanks.

"We were pleased to hold Donegal to eight points and it actually seemed as though a couple of their scores were wide," reflected Gary Coleman. "We lost a classic last year, this was a big game for us. Maybe a draw would have been fairer to Donegal but we took the break."

Gary Magill sits motionless on the bench. "The Donegal backs just kept running and running, it made it really difficult for us. Conditions were tough, but thankfully our defence was really solid today. I think I had maybe four chances all day today. But we just kept battling, didn't quit and we always felt that the scores would come at the end."

Henry Downey casts his mind back. "A wee bit like 1993, although the pitch wasn't as bad. Maybe there were scores to settle from then. We are just delighted to have won this match. It wasn't a good game but if we had lost today where would we have gone from here? It's good to be back."

Donegal depart quickly. Brendan Devenney remembers the last seconds of the match, his voice scarcely audible. "I thought that kick was it. If I had known there was time left, I would have run at them before trying for the point. That'll eat at me for a long time." A dazzling year ends painfully for the youngster.

Declan Bonner finds himself striding alone through the damp streets of Clones. Derry humour cuts the air. "It was a good goal," grimaces Bonner. "But . . . ah, you could talk about it til you're blue in the face." As the steady rain dulls his polo-shirt, Clones offers little by way of redemption. Not this year, anyway.