In the middle of the monsoon that posed as the Irish summer past, Mick O'Dwyer, the godfather of Gaelic football, made a throwaway comparison between then and now.

Creasing his rogue's brows, he alluded to a year - damned if he could remember which - when Kerry had won an All-Ireland in just three matches. Red-carpeted as far as the Munster showdown, the Kingdom duly collected their one millionth piece of provincial silverware, beat Sligo in the All-Ireland semi-final and then defeated Dublin by 2-12 to 0-11. That was in 1975.

O'Dwyer was amused by the brevity of that campaign in comparison to the Napoleonic element his expeditions with Kildare had come to assume. From a weird, windswept league game against Sligo in Newbridge for which Kildare lost points after a misinterpretation of the substitutes rule, the Lilywhites' season snowballed.

They advanced to a Leinster final, lost and found themselves in Thurles six days later for what was a poignant if uninspiring curtain faller to O'Dwyer's decade along affair with Kildare.

It was during that frenetic period that O'Dwyer reminisced about the easier ways of 27 years ago. Although he didn't explicitly say as much, it was as if the great man himself, whose unquenchable enthusiasm for the game is legendary, was becoming a little tired and perhaps overawed by the furnace of the modern championship. He hinted at the opinion that is becoming the mantra of the current generation of players: something has got to give.

DJ Carey was the one GAA sportsman whose season gone resembled the brief rush experience by O'Dwyer's famous championship side. His dramatic return to the Kilkenny hurling team after the Leinster championship saw him sweep to an All-Ireland and possible All-Star in just 140 minutes of hurling.

Carey's once-in-a-lifetime gifts, his long contribution to the Kilkenny game and the warmth of feeling towards him across the county made such a cavalier return possible. But Carey, of course, was one of the first of the current generation of players to voice the opinion that the structures and support for players were inadequate. After Kilkenny's victory, he appeared on a news bulletin to highlight the fact that heroes or not, the best hurlers in the country had to knuckle down for work at the beginning of the week, same as the rest of us. His manager, Brian Cody, made revealing comments about the grip the game has taken on him. As well as the physical demands of official training time - in most cases three evenings a week and a Sunday devoted to games - Cody admitted his private thoughts were more or less dominated by the game. He could not get away from it.

Speak to any footballer or hurler and they offer similar perspectives. Regardless of the extent of their interests in the Gaelic Players Association, the maverick self-help group formed to further the common interests of players, modern GAA athletes are deeply concerned with their place in the all-consuming entity of Gaelic games.

Like Cody, they choose their words carefully, anxious to balance their obvious love of their sport with a disquieting concern that their commitment is eclipsing their quality of life. That common worry is shared by the entire community of athletes, from those that regularly grace the glamour end of the championship to those for whom the competition habitually closes in early summer. They all speak of the "huge sacrifice" they make to play Gaelic games.

The stirrings of the past few months suggest breaking point is not too far away. The public insurrection by the Cork hurlers amounted to an embarrassing series of accusations directed at the most powerful county board in the country. Such a stance would have been unimaginable a few seasons ago.

Donegal's best championship run in a decade was undermined by rumours that a number of the players were considering offers of a passage on a boat to the New World. Their departure didn't transpire but the mere possibility can't have done much to aid the feel-good factor in the squad.

There had already been vague rumours of a general strike by players during this year's championship and fantastic as that notion seems, the fact it was aired is indicative of the general mood. And GAA players, remember, have nothing material to lose by striking.

And the experiences of the Galway footballers and Tipperary hurlers, champions in 2001, adds weight to the argument that it has become virtually impossible to launch effective back-to-back championship squads.

Right now, the moral squeeze on the GAA over the farcical stadium issue will deflect attention away from the players. But at the conclusion of the All-Ireland final next Sunday, the GAA season goes into a period of hibernation.

It is during those relatively quiet weeks that the players will have the time and energy to consider the most effective way of going forward from here.

The calls are growing louder and more exasperated and although still distant, the discontent of the stars is the most serious issue facing the GAA. It is important the GPA and its members and the GAA find a middle ground and broker some sort of ideological compromise. It is easy to understand the arguments of both parties.

No one can object to the principle that the entertainment given by top flight GAA stars surpasses that offered by many pampered professional athletes. Some of the matches enjoyed in Croke Park this summer have been breathtaking and the truth of it is the players are closer to being unpaid professionals than amateurs.

But while it is easy agree to the principle of some fiscal recognition for their contribution and the revenue they create, the deep antipathy of many towards the principle of pay-for-play has relevance. People feel it could undermine and ruin the ethos of community and voluntary service and local pride that has formed the bedrock of strength for the GAA.

It could be argued that nobody is forcing players to give their services. Nothing stops them taking the summer off, watching the championship from the stands. The danger is increasing numbers of our most talented players will do just that, channelling their energies into the club sphere, which is annually compromised and pulled apart by the demands of the inter-county championship monster as it is.

The old bluster about pride in the jersey no longer carries any weight. Irish society has bowed down to the "nothing for nothing" principal and time has become a precious commodity. The GAA has always been about generosity, about giving back, about something for nothing in essence and about people giving their time. The association can no longer depend on that.

Next weekend is the climax of what has been at times a thrilling GAA season. It has also been a peaceful one. The months ahead could be a lot rougher.