SIDELINE CUT: Madison Square Garden went Irish the night Eamon Coghlan won his seventh Wanamaker Mile in February 1987. The great middle-distance exponent was 34 then and anxious to eclipse Glenn Cunningham's record of six titles. There was a Celtic hue to the occasion, with Marcus O'Sullivan and Ray Flynn intent on beating their compatriot, the acknowledged master of the discipline.

The field was graced by the presence of Steve Ovett, then 31, a rival of Coghlan's at so many outdoor meets in the 1970s and '80s. The Englishman hadn't bothered with the indoor circuit for many years and when he first saw the steeply-curved indoor track that circled the floor of the famous arena he observed that it was probably similar to running around a washtub.

The night was a story of Boy's Own heroism for Coghlan, who demonstrated a vintage burst of the closing-straight speed that had been the hallmark of his style, accelerating beyond pack leader O'Sullivan to the raucous approval of the Garden faithful, for whom Coghlan had become a favourite son.

He paused to sign autographs and the city crowd, hardly renowned for their sporting kind-heartedness, formed a queue that had him standing at trackside an hour after his wonderful epitaph.

Susan Moran from Tullamore had just about had her First Communion at that time, but as of this week, Madison Square Garden has become her new sporting home.

Although the basketball player always maintained a quiet vigil to the idea of becoming the first Irish player to make it to the professional ranks of American basketball, the odds were stacked against her. For a start, her height, 5ft 11in, would have made scouts sceptical about her recruitment prospects in a league where most forwards are between 6ft 4in and 6ft 7in. Also, Moran's origins are hardly hotbed in terms of European basketball; Eastern Europe has a reputation for 24-carat ball players but not the Irish midlands. A few years ago, the idea of an Irish player playing NBA basketball was as likely as a Korean playing midfield for Kerry.

But Moran has never been bothered by odds or stereotypes. After dominating the schools circuit in Ireland in the mid-1990s, she took a scholarship to St Joseph's of Philadelphia, a respected college on the edges of the hoops glamour scene. Moran's deeply-competitive spirit and flinty work ethic were expected to see her through a solid if unspectacular scholarship.

She was supposed to persevere and justify her presence on scholarship. What she was not supposed to do was start 122 games, lead her team in scoring and rebounding for four straight seasons and finish as the top scorer in the college's history, with 2,340 points. They hadn't bargained on playing Amhrán na bhFiann before her last home game, with her mother and school coach, Ann Ganley, standing in the crowd.

By then, the WNBA was a real possibility and when an invitation arrived to attend a pre-draft training camp in Chicago, she appeared to have the hard work done. In retrospect, what transpired was probably apt, as Moran has never taken the conventional route. For once, the Tullamore girl was fazed by what awaited her; she later described the scenario as a cattle mart, with players interested only in showcasing their own moves.

It was a grotesque, a pageant of the desperate and part of her resented having to perform at that level. And in the end, she was rejected, failing to make the draft list from which the WNBA teams choose new players.

That night, she was finished. The next day, she consoled herself with thoughts of going to Europe. By Monday the old fire was back and her sole ambition in life was to prove the WNBA wrong.

So, at the beginning of the month, she secured a try-out with the New York Liberty team, with no promises and less apologies. Nineteen players hustled for a place for the roster, including some newcomers that had been drafted ahead of Moran. Established players like Teresa Weatherspoon, one of the all-time great point guards, kept a distance, accustomed to the transitory nature of pre-season camps. Professional sports are a business and the atmosphere reflected that, clinical, tough and exacting.

The truth came last Saturday night, when she sat on the Liberty bench for a pre-season game in front of 14,000 people. When Moran was finally called, there were two minutes left and she took the famous Garden floor smarting from tears, convinced they had decided to release her.

Still, instinct compelled her to do what she always did; find a way. Twice, she got the ball, twice she was fouled and she swished all four free throws. Her parents were in the crowd and the family was pensive that evening. But the Liberty coaches were obviously sold on that brief cameo and when the final roster was selected the following day, one of the coaches whispered to the Irish girl that good news awaited her. She was in.

Since then, Moran has not had time to ponder the historical aspect of her achievement. She has some final college assignments to submit and her days are full. Yesterday morning, she left her hotel on Lexington Avenue for an 8 a.m. start. Practice doesn't officially start until 10 a.m. but players are expected to gather for an informal shoot around two hours before that.

They break at two for a short lunch and then lift weights for the afternoon. Tomorrow, the team flies out to Los Angeles for the first game of the season against the WNBA champions the Los Angeles Sparks.

Wonderful as her college years seemed, these past weeks have taken her into a new orbit. All-consuming as every second has been, she has paused long enough to take in the sheer mystique of Madison Square Garden, stopping to look at the black and white photographs of the great New York Knicks team of 1973 that fill the corridors to the changing rooms.

In fact, Liberty uses the same locker-room as the current Knicks superstars like Latrell Sprewell and Marcus Camby. Suffice it to say they are slightly plusher than those of her second favourite gym at the school in Tullamore.

So the slate is wiped clean. College heroics and romantic farewells mean nothing in the lean, unsentimental world of professional sports and all the major sports are littered with great college stars who perished on the stage they were supposedly born for.

Susan Moran is on the bottom rung once more, a nobody among the WNBA, where the opponents are bigger and tougher and meaner and the days ahead more precarious. Just how she likes it. Her story is genuinely incredible, but the remoteness of the WNBA means it may not be fully recognised over here.

That has never bothered her, however. Logically, Moran should struggle at this elevated level or at least simply persevere. The odds are stacked. Which is why most of those who know here wouldn't bet against her turning the Garden Irish again some day soon.