Thousands were waiting. As the plane dropped towards the slim strip of tar, it was possible to see the mass of people waiting in the gloaming, illuminated by new stars and the crazy ribbon of headlights which stretched, it seemed, all the way back to Tralee itself.
When the bus finally entered the town, it took the driver around an hour and a half to negotiate Denny Street. Barry O'Shea couldn't but grin through it all, waving at familiar faces from the Croppy Boy statue all the way down to the Ashe Memorial Hall.
"That night was unbelievable, a really memorable occasion," says Ger Power, recalling Kerry's All-Ireland homecoming last September. "In our day there was excitement, certainly, but never on the same scale or with so much colour. The response reflected 10 years without success in the county."
For Barry O'Shea, Kerry's young full back, that evening, that win, marked the realisation of all he had been preparing himself for. He would later confide that the homecoming took prominence among his most precious moments. It is impossible to walk the streets of Tralee as a young fella and not idle away a substantial amount of your callow existence dreaming about wearing the Kerry jersey.
When O'Shea's father Paidi moved from Waterville to Tralee the place was about to enjoy one of its most celebrated sporting eras. Barry was born in the mid-1970s and would just have been hitting double figures when Kerry football made its last glorious stand and embarked on a final crusade of predominance which is unlikely to be witnessed again. By September 1986, when Kerry won their third successive All-Ireland, it appeared to the youngsters around Tralee that the streets were teeming with immortals.
On a Saturday you might catch sight of Ger Power purchasing a newspaper or John O'Keefe heading down to the Stacks ground. You, could, if you had the nerve, walk by Mikey Sheehy and say hello. It was like everyday, you were given a ticket to the Oscars.
Barry O'Shea always followed the step of Seanie Walsh, the town's indomitable defender and sometime midfielder. At some stage, the kid decided that he wanted to be like him, to wear the same jersey. And that's pretty much what happened.
Although the O'Shea family now lives in Highfield Grove, adjacent to the Austin Stacks club, O'Shea was reared as a Kerins O'Rahillys player, one of four clubs which conspire to create a seething, if healthy, football rivalry in Tralee. At 12, he headed of to `the Sem' - St Brendan's in Killarney - honing his game at the venerable institution.
Every town has them, the youngsters who light up the headlines in the provincial papers, who smash under-age scoring records and throw you a winsome smile just to top it all. "He'll captain the county before he's 20," cry the prophets. Often, by the time the prodigy is 20, he's sitting on a high stool explaining to some unfortunate why he should be captaining the county. But with Barry O'Shea, there never seemed to be a doubt.
"When he was 16 he was a big, strapping lad - probably about the same as he is now. He just dominated at that level and was devoted when it came to application and fitness. Even at an early age, he was being viewed as a prospect for the Kerry seniors," comments Charlie Nelligan, the Kerry minor coach who guided O'Shea's bunch along to an All-Ireland title four years ago.
In many respects, he is emblematic of the heavy duty investment the county afforded their underage players as senior glory proved more elusive. Almost since 1986, Kerry sought someone to fill their full-back slot regularly. As O'Shea developed from a minor through to under-21 and on to Sigerson success with the talent-laden Tralee IT team, he increasingly looked the likely candidate.
"He is what Kerry were looking for, definitely. He has natural strength, is very tight marking and has the speed to deal with most forwards. He exerts a very positive influence on the side and is a lad you could see being around for the long haul," says John O'Keefe.
From an early age, O'Shea managed to separate his natural personality from his competitive attitude. Those who know him describe him as being almost ridiculously laid back, confident in an unforced way.
Occasionally, though, he has skated on melting ice. He weathered some dubious moments against Cavan's flying forwards in last year's All-Ireland semi-final and this year, against Tipperary in the Munster final, Declan Brown repeatedly razed grass either side of him in the first 15 minutes of that match. Neither time, though, did he lose composure. Tomorrow he faces Kildare's Karl O'Dwyer. Kerry folk can only smile at the irony of it all. The revered Micko scheming to ruin Kerry's renaissance and his own kid out playing full-forward for Kildare.
"The whole Mick O'Dwyer thing, well, it won't be relevant once the ball is thrown in. . . . There is a concern that Mick knows the Kerry game very well, but it won't be a distraction on the field," says Charlie Nelligan.
He believes that Barry O'Shea will be oblivious as to the heritage of his marker.
"I don't think it will matter a damn to him who Karl O'Dwyer is. He'll just be intent on stopping him, same as usual. Anyway, Kildare might decide to have Karl rove outfield, in which case Paidi might get someone else to pick him up."
This is a new time for Kerry football, a dangerous time. They are nervous about Sunday, about the novelty of it all. Paidi O Se has gone all Greta Garbo, declaring that the camp want to be alone. The heady days of "put me down for whatever I said last year," are finished.
When Barry O'Shea was a youngster, there was a sense of manifest destiny about Kerry football. The Kingdom won championships, that was it. That was deeply enough ingrained to sustain him through the fallow years.
"In a sense, he came along at precisely the right time," says Ger Power. These days, when he strolls down Denny Street, youngsters mill around in jersey's bearing his own name, stare at him with the sequinned eyes he reserved for the idols of 10 years past. GAA is still kinda Hollywood in Tralee, but O'Shea usually just smiles it off.
