Through the wind and through the rain, Tony Sheridan walked on. It was Monday afternoon, a miserable Dublin day at the end of March and the middle-aged man coming towards me looked nothing like one of the greatest players that never was.
He's 40 now, lean, content. But for many, the memories of what he did as a player in the 1990s have faded. Around here, though, he's still widely recognised. "How're Tony," an old man asks. "See the game last night?"
"Yeah, wasn't great, was it?" Sheridan replied.
Things weren't great in 1992, just before he made his Premiership debut with Coventry, when Sheridan jumped on a plane and arrived home to his mother's house unannounced, insisting he wasn't going to go back. Then Bobby Gould, Coventry's manager, phoned.
"The ma answered. She knew who it was, but was cute out. 'Tony', she said. 'It's for you'. She never told me who it was nor nothing cos she knew I'd have legged it if I'd have been told it was Bobby on the line."
Gould didn't mince his words. "Either you fly back tomorrow Tony or I will get on the plane myself tomorrow and drag you back across. We need you."
He was not yet 18 and not yet Shero. But there was something about him that made him stand out. "Other players tried to perfect their technique. Tony made it look so easy," said Gould.
Yet maybe that was part of the problem. Sheridan, the 40-year-old who sits opposite me drinking a cup-of-tea in his local in Crumlin, is widely regarded as the best Irish player who never made it in England.
How good was he? Good enough to play Premiership football by 18. Good enough to convince Graeme Souness he was worth spending £1 million of Liverpool's money on. "Then Souness got sacked and the deal died."
Good enough to be considered by Jack Charlton for the 1994 World Cup squad. Ultimately, he never made the cut. Yet he did make it. Kind of.
In 1995, he was home again. This time, though, there was someone there to meet him.
Tony Sheridan in action for Shelbourne. Photo: INPHO.Ollie Byrne was his name. Now to some, Ollie was a rogue - and not the loveable type. Those who knew him better, though, couldn't help but like him despite his many, many flaws.
Sheridan fell for his charm. "He sold me Shelbourne Football Club. He told me I'd make a name for myself here. He made me want to play for him..... and he was the secretary, not the manager. He was just one of a kind."
That much is true. Each week, Byrne would pay Sheridan his weekly wage - by then the most any player in the League of Ireland was getting - but he'd hold off on some of his signing-on fee. "I just don't want you going off the rails, Tony," he'd say.
The money was eventually paid up. Byrne kept his word. Between them this bizarre friendship formed between the former rock promoter and ageing football man, and the young, streetwise footballer, whose Oasis style haircut brought rock’n roll to the League of Ireland.
"He's the only player from our league who got into the VIP section of night clubs," Stephen McGuinness, a contemporary of Sheridan's and now the PFAI's secretary, remembers. "He was the League's pin-up boy."
Everyone knew him. He'd walk down Sundrive Road and people of all ages would say hello or stop for a chat. He was featured in Hot Press, the music magazine. A League of Ireland footballer in Hot Press?
"Yeah, it's a bit mad," he laughs.
That was the time. "Sheridan was the George Best of the League," Alan Mathews, who coached him at Shels once said. Partially that was because of his skill and partially because he enjoyed himself.
The Shelbourne fans who watched him play enjoyed every minute he was there.
In particular, they'll recall THAT GOAL, the 1996 FAI Cup final equaliser. Watch it again on YouTube and marvel at the technique and the timing, not just how he scored, but when he did it.
The clock was ticking down on Shelbourne that day. The odds were stacked against them. They had 10 men, Pat's 11. They had no goals, Pat's had one.
But Shels had Shero. "It was great and all that, but it wasn't the best goal I ever scored.
"The one I got against Sligo in the FAI Cup semi-final was better. And then there was that one for Portadown."
That one for Portadown was described by Jackie Fullerton, the BBC commentator, as the best he had ever seen. Now bear in mind Jackie has watched a fair bit of football over the course of his 72 years.
But what he saw that day stuck with him - Mickey Keenan launching the ball long, Shero hitting it first time from inside the centre circle into the net. "How did I do it? I don't know. You can't explain these things. They just happened. It was instinct."
And it was instinct, as well as a bit of homesickness, which told him to come home for good in the mid 1990s.
By then he was on the cusp of stardom. He'd played in the Premiership, had played for the Irish Under 21s and was earning well at Shels again in 1996 when Newcastle United called. "They offered Shels £100,000. Ollie told them, no, I want £150,000."
So nothing came of it. To some, nothing came of Sheridan. "I've had people call me a waster," he says. "I never bit when people took a pop at me."
Tony Sheridan scored for Shamrock Rovers against Bohemians in 2005. Photo: INPHO.Instead, he did what Sheridan does best. He allowed his left foot to do the talking. "One day, when I was playing for Cherry Orchard, this bloke marking me was at me, at me, at me 'Waster' he called me.
"So I got the ball, looked up, and scored from the half-way-line. 'That's how easy it is', I said to him. I know that sounds cocky, but it was my way of answering the abuse. To be fair, the fella came over and apologised afterwards."
Sheridan makes no apologies for how his career panned out. A brilliant player in his heyday, he does not live his life wondering what might have been. "I'm happy with who Tony Sheridan was," he says.
Better yet, he is happy with who Tony Sheridan is now. "Had that move to Liverpool come off, would I have had my two children? They mean the world to me. They're more important than football."
And yet football is still so important to him. Shels are still in his heart, but so is the schoolboy game, where he coaches at Lakelands and Rangers AFC. "I loved the ball," he says. "Fellas would say, 'I don't want to pass to you, you're marked'. I'd reply: 'just give it to me, let me worry about their defence'."
Most of the time, defenders worried about him. That mastery of the ball was matched by a massive self-belief. "I'd go onto the pitch thinking I was the best player. I may not have been. But I always had the confidence to think I was better than anyone else."
Now it's 2015. The kid with the Oasis hairstyle looks different now. And he remains great company. Our two hours together is filled with stories, interrupted only by strangers coming up to him. At last week's Ireland-Poland match, a Cork City fan approached him and said he looked like John Bishop. "Thanks," Sheridan replied.
"But you're Tony Sheridan, aren't you?" the lady said. "That's right," he replied. "You were the best our League has had," she said.
Few would argue.
