It was an old New York Yankees player called Yogi Berra who famously captured some sporting incident of the day with the immortal remark, "It was déjà vu all over again." That was certainly the sensation in this country on Tuesday evening after the announcement of Roy Keane's imminent return reaffirmed all the hardline stands on a subject just beginning to acquire the warm glow of nostalgia.Sideline Cut

When it comes to Keane, we Paddies assume a line of intransigence that makes the boys up in Stormont seem wishy-washy. If the phenomenon of Keane's abrupt vanishing from the green shirt two summers ago provoked such violent passions in otherwise mild and rational beings, God knows what will occur when he actually reappears on the Irish scene. An outbreak of spontaneous combustion, probably.

It is understandable why the people who believe Keane should, in the words of one protester, "not be let within five miles of an Irish shirt" are so angry about the prospect of this Second Coming. All objections seem to be underpinned by the principle that Keane besmirched the honour of playing for Ireland and that in "walking away" he abandoned not only his team-mates but the entire nation. If you see things that way, then it is easy to see why you would get so hot under the collar. But that, of course, does not make you any less wrong.

Keane was placed in an invidious position by his manager two summers ago and effectively abandoned by the Irish squad, several of whom were publicly wracked with guilt and confusion afterwards. Keane has never been less than clear about things. He was punished for essentially winning a public confrontation initiated by Mick McCarthy: he was sent home for being a cooler and more clever orator in what was a cut-throat debate the manager invited.

When McCarthy, a good and honest man who just got it fatally wrong in Saipan, banished Keane, he was also sinking his own ship. His action split Irish soccer down the middle and his position became untenable.

The wording of the FAI's statement this week, which tumbled over itself to distance today's organisation from the bumbling outfit that presided over Saipan, provides all the vindication Keane ever needed. It is an admission they regard Keane's return as an imprimatur of recent improvements.

Of all the services Brian Kerr has rendered Irish soccer, his quiet hunting down of Keane is perhaps the most valiant. Kerr understands what his predecessor so catastrophically failed to, that the manager's primary function is to facilitate the formation of the best team possible. Mick McCarthy got confused by memory of his strident alter ego, the Captain Fantastic of the Charlton era, during the hour of crisis in Saipan. He allowed personal pride to cloud his judgment.

There has been an undercurrent of discontent among the Irish soccer press corps that the Irish job has blanched Kerr - traditionally a colourful and quotable and affable bloke - of his personality. If that is the case, then great. The less often the manager is the story, the better. So far, Kerr's handling of Keane's re-entry into the Irish atmosphere has been perfect and patient and low key. He was diplomatic in the wake of the initial veto by Alex Ferguson and remains equally unreadable now that he has helped Keane to be persuaded by his own heart as opposed to the instincts of preservation Ferguson bartered with.

The instinct here is that the phase of Keane's most productive and valuable contribution to Irish international soccer is upon us. With Kerr, he can certainly work in greater harmony than was the case with either Charlton or McCarthy.

In soccer, above all sports, there still exists an unspoken order of hegemony. Whatever arrangement Keane reaches with Kerr in terms of availability the younger Irish stars will accept. Keane has put in the years for Ireland and unquestionably cares more about this country and nationality and culture than many of the former heroes who so blithely denounced him.

Yogi Berra played during the same era as the great Joe DiMaggio. In David Halberstam's book Summer of '49, there is an account of the classic pennant race between the Yankees and the Red Sox.

DiMaggio rarely dined with the other players on the road, even Keller and Henrich, with whose names he was inextricably linked in a thousand box scores. He led the league, his team-mate Eddie Lopat once shrewdly noted, in room service. He sought out dark restaurants, where he would sit in the back, in a corner, so that he would not be recognised.

There are echoes in that distant and godly era of sport, when players were genuine folk heroes, of the popular portrayals of Keane's last days in the Irish camp. In all eras, in all games, the geniuses have their ways, their oddities. Those quirks have always been accommodated (Keane was considered odd because he preferred not to go on the lash - with journalists! - a few days before a World Cup game).

But much of Keane's apparent moodiness and isolating tendencies had their origins in an essential despair at how Ireland's match preparation was handled and also in a basic annoyance at the jocular and roguish atmosphere several of the older professionals brought to bear. There is no doubt that Jack Charlton's instilling of team spirit through pints and sing-songs once worked but it reached its natural conclusion around USA '94. The wilful resurrection of the old party antics irritated Keane. There is no doubt he came across as sanctimonious towards the end but, as the hefty Genesis report confirmed, he had a reason or two.

Now a man who delights as much as Keane in thoroughness and preparation governs the Irish team. So who is to say the new generation of Irish players won't find Keane as helpful and approachable as his own found him detached and unknowable?

Keane's international career has now turned a full revolution: he has gone from the eternal rebel to the grand old man returned. The advice he can give to kids who grew up in his shadow will be invaluable. And Keane, after all, is someone who may well one day make a very fine Irish manager.

In the meantime, the Roy Keane debate has spread like a forest fire. If there are some people whose enjoyment of Irish soccer will be destroyed by Keane's return, then that is genuinely regrettable. It is highly likely that a torrid reception awaits Keane when he plays at Lansdowne Road again. So be it: he dealt with that before and will again. The important thing is that the story is reaching its natural conclusion on the field of play.

In his last days, DiMaggio was asked why he always pushed himself so hard and replied that it was because there might be someone in the stands who never saw him play before.

When Keane next wears the Irish shirt in Dublin, there will be several people watching for the first time. That much alone is cause for celebration.

His return is a reprieve. Good things will happen because of it.