OCCASIONALLY in this communing of journalists and players at the team hotel on a Tuesday before a Six Nations match, you find a willing and fresh candidate, one who has not been waltzed around the room too often before.

You look in the players' eyes, gauge their demeanour, their handshakes, their world-weary expressions, their reluctance or enthusiasm, their choice of clichès, their defensive mechanisms, their experience of the media, whether they are trusting or sceptical. Often it's how they played the previous week, or didn't play. Pushing a recorder under a player's nose can be like beating the hive with a stick.

Some players would see "fresh candidate" as "fresh victim", they would see "waltzed around the room" as "drained of blood" but Tony Buckley is unmistakeable as he sprawls in the chaise longue in the corridor, content to slumber in the semi-darkness away from the media action of the big room. Fresh. The vampire arrives.

Buckley's sheer amplitude, the preponderance of him around the corridor, could be distressing for those claustrophobes who faint in tight places. He fills space and dominates the eyeline. But Buckley's smile is shy and hesitant and, like many huge figures, he possesses an apologetic gentleness.

"It's strange when people shout at you on the street," he had said before the game against Wales. "They call your name and I think it must be someone I know and I'd go over thinking, 'who's that now?'. . . but I don't know them."

The one-time plumber is five inches over six feet and weighs 22 stone. He will come on for John Hayes against England at Twickenham, as he has done in the last four games, although he is still learning to be a tighthead prop. He says he will always keep learning. But there is one thing he'd like to - given his nature - confess.

Last week in the dying minutes, the nimble feet of Luke Fitzgerald took him dancing infield at Croke Park and into heavy Welsh traffic. The winger went this way, he went that way before bouncing off the bemused prop.

"I was happy enough how it went on the pitch, got on, got a few balls, defended well, except for the one episode where we collided," he explains. "Luke and I were both gutted over that. Mortified over it.

"We looked at the videos and I actually saw him coming and I moved inside and then he moved back inside. Then he moved back and I moved back . . . it's something that usually works well, where the forwards coming back run slower lines. You might obstruct the opposition from defending and then they (Irish runners) run into the hole we create.

"Luke didn't know what actually happened. He had his head down. He said he was knocked back and thought someone had tackled him. He put the ball back. He thought it was a ruck on."

For a player whose first start for Munster in the Celtic League was just 12 months ago, his career graph is impressive. But Buckley knows Hayes is almost untouchable so long as his body holds up. The two big men are squad buddies but their closeness does not dilute the intense scramble for game time.

Buckley, who had slim hopes of starting this weekend, is a faithful understudy, but he is 27 years old and his hunger for pitch time is as sharp as that of a Fitzgerald or a Rob Kearney. Buckley's job is to pressurise the Bruff man.

"I like competing at the rucks for the ball. I love getting in and causing as much damage as I can. I love getting the ball in hand and running with it," he says.

"At the moment . . . with John there for so long its going to be hard to get him out of the position. It's going to be a waiting game more than anything. Short of game time off the bench, it's hard to make such a big impact. All you can do is give it your all and hope some day you'll be picked to start."

Frustration has given way to a stoic work ethic, ambition to patience. He needs those qualities. Against Italy he came on after 74 minutes, against France 77 minutes, against Scotland 73 minutes and against Wales 71 minutes.

There are few thrusting tight heads behind Buckley, save Mike Ross at Harlequins, another Corkman, another over 20 stone.

"You are given nine minutes in 80 minutes," he says. "You're thinking, 'Hit everyone. Hit every ruck. Try and get the ball. Knock everyone back in every tackle'."

Buckley is fresh all right. He stands up and ambles away. In the corridor there is light again.