‘I’m not going to lie to you, I s*** myself before doing it!’ – One-time enforcer now Leinster’s great entertainer

This evening, he’ll gather himself beneath the Anglesea Stand at the RDS before bursting out from the tunnel to the acclaim of the blue-clad fans around the ground.

At the Aviva Stadium last month, he played to a full house under his stage name ‘Devin the Destroyer’, a Viking hat perched on his head for full effect.

When he was a player, he was one of 15 and a cog in the wheel, but for five minutes before the teams emerge, the 42-year-old is a solo performer whose mission is to get the fans on their feet and cheering.

He knows it’s not for everyone, but he’s done it at the majority of their home games and the proof of its success has been in the sight of all four stands getting up to their feet, performing the ‘Viking Clap’, before the sides emerge.

By now, he’s established a firm rapport with the supporters who know what to expect.

But, back in October, when he first ran out and roared to an unsuspecting crowd still readjusting to being back for the URC during the World Cup, he’d no idea how it would go down.

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“There was no real plan, so to speak. I remember the first one, I’m not going to lie to you, I s*** myself before doing it! I get very anxious before doing it, more so than bloody playing a big game, maybe,” he says down the line from Newcastle-upon-Tyne where he’s now based with his wife Jessica and daughters Lola and Gigi.

“So, the bigger the game, the bigger the crowd, the nerves are even more.

​“The first one, I went on with an air horn and it didn’t even bloody work. I felt a bit awkward, but I tend to not overthink things too much and embrace the fear. You feel a bit uncomfortable before it starts, but like playing a game, as soon as you’re on the pitch, you just go into autopilot.”

McCarthy gets to the ground early to prepare. “There’s never really any real plan because you’ve ultimately got four, four, five, maybe six minutes,” he says.

“So, myself and Leo (the Lion, Leinster’s mascot), a lad called JJ, top fella. We have a little pre-game, our little walk-through. We just leave it to have a chat the day of the game. You can’t change it up or vary it too much.

“Getting the clap going ... I know the Viking clap is not ... It’s not Leinster’s Viking clap. It’s just, I suppose, getting people to do it at the start. I’m sure it’s not for everyone, but ultimately, quite a lot of people buy into it and get involved.

“The last one at La Rochelle, when the whole crowd was doing it, it made some noise.

“The Munster league game was a big one as well, and I suppose Leicester as well at the Aviva. The Bulls one went really well at the RDS as well in terms of the noise and the atmosphere. Lads have told me that they can hear the place vibrating in the changing room.

“So, I remember when I was a player, if I can hear the atmosphere and the noise before I come out into the pitch, it does definitely get you absolutely buzzing for the game.

“We’ve all been at games where it’s quite hard to get up for, like going to play in a ground that hasn’t got much atmosphere or not much crowd … you just feel a bit flat going out.

“It’s just a bit of fun. Hopefully, most people enjoy it.”

As a player, McCarthy was a tough nut on the pitch and a joker in the dressing room off it, popular among his team-mates for whom he made the long days go faster.

“The lads would say I liked a bit of craic and always had a bit of fun with the boys in the dressing room,” he says.

“When I’m out on the pitch, I try to go hard. I like to have a bit of weird banter on the pitch as well. That’s just my make-up.

“As players, it’s good to see the characters that are coming out not afraid to be that. When I look back on certain coaches, I tried to act the way I thought they wanted me to act by being a bit of a robot, and probably wasn’t myself a lot of the time.”

McCarthy believes players are being allowed to be themselves more by coaches like Andy Farrell.

“Obviously, it’s a serious business. People’s jobs on the line, coaches, players. So there is that serious aspect,” he says.

“If you feel comfortable in your own skin, that you can go out, be yourself as long as that’s not crossing the line with interfering with performance and preparing and deterring others from preparing the best they can do.

“I’m looking at it from the outside now, but what I see with Andy Farrell and people like Finlay Bealham, James Lowe, Mack Hansen; they’re characters. Able to be themselves. And I think that gets them the best out of their performances.

“They’re feeling comfortable in their own skin. They’re bringing an energy and an enthusiasm and excitement to the rest of the squad that is different. Like I said, I suppose it’s getting that balance between working hard, doing the right thing.

“If you feel like you’re valued and adding value, and from the top, the coach is embracing that, I think it’s an exciting place to be. Looking from the outside in, that’s what it looks like within the Irish camp in terms of Farrell wants people to be who they are and be authentic, be who you are, and not try and pretend to be someone else.”

He’s been retired for almost seven years since his move to Narbonne had to be abandoned due to an elbow injury, a year after the last of his 19 caps for Ireland was ended with an ugly concussion at the Stade de France.

Although his day job with wealth management firm St James’ Place is no longer connected to the sport, his weekend activities at Leinster’s home ground, plus some punditry and corporate appearances, keep him involved.

Retirement, he admits freely, wasn’t an easy transition, and after a couple of years working with the Rugby Players Association helping players with the move into the after-life, his door remains open.

“I still enjoy being able to give my tuppence worth of how I found it, the good, the bad, and the ugly,” he says.

“But, I’m in a really good spot now. I’m in a job I’m enjoying and got a good balance there.

“The first two years, I found a loss of identity. I was a bit lost. Not having the schedule I was used to.

“You’re used to being told where to be, when to be there, what to wear, what to eat. You’re in a bit of a bubble. You come out of it, you go into work in the real world, and you can feel a bit lost.

“You can feel like you’re not adding value, which is frustrating. You feel like you’re starting at the bottom. It feels like you stand there with your pants around your ankles a bit for the first (while) – it’s a bit daunting.

“But, slowly, you realise there is a hell of a lot you can add in terms of the skills you’ve learned from being a pro that do transfer across and you can make a difference.

​“It took me two or three years. I never went to see a doctor, but I would say I was in a bad place in that first couple of years in terms of ... I can’t say did I have depression, but I know my missus was very worried about me, and I’d probably say I was … a bit lost. It’s weird.

“They say a sportsman dies twice or something like that? You go through all these different emotions.

“I went through a period of having a bit of resentment to the game, not wanting to go to games.

“But now, I love going, I’m buzzing. It’s a big crowd, the first initial years, you’re thinking, I wish I was a part of this.”

Now, despite some regrets, he reflects on his career with pride.

“There is a lot of looking back and thinking, I wish I played for Ireland earlier,” he says.

“But, ultimately, look back and always wish I’d had more, achieved more. But look, I’m in a good place with it now and only look back with fond memories.”

This evening, as the sun sets and the floodlights go up, he’ll get a bit of the buzz back as he takes a big breath and goes out to do his thing.

“I’m just a big fan,” he says.

“After the La Rochelle game, I sat pretty close to the dugout and Will Skelton came off and sat beside me with the glass pane in between. It’s ridiculous the size of the man. I’m quite glad I got out of the game when I did.”

Now, the only hits he takes are from Leo the Lion, but the one-time enforcer is embracing life as Leinster’s great entertainer.