Be honest. Did you never doubt him? Never? Come, come, even those close to him must have wondered sometimes in the last few years. The only man who never had a scintilla of doubt is himself.
Well, with one bound our hero was free. Mick McCarthy, a former Captain Fantastic of comic strip dimensions laid it all on the line last night and he won. He won the night, saved the city, revived the Celtic Tiger.
He gambled big. When he took this job over five years ago he worried that failure would change the memory which the Irish public had of him, but he wanted the challenge. As he walked away from the madding crowd in Tehran last night the smile on his face told the story. His place in Irish hearts is fixed.
Mick McCarthy and Mick McCarthy's team delivered. McCarthy was entitled to his moments of triumph last night for this truly was his team and their achievement possibly exceeded anything from the best of the Charlton era. A callow side, deprived of a handful of stars made the last steps of what has been a remarkable journey. Having first negotiated a group containing two of the best sides in Europe, they came through a play-off situation which became less attractive as every day passed.
As a redemption song it was worthy of being sung from the minarets of this troubled old town last night. As McCarthy took the plaudits and embraces and a despairing Iranian republic contemplated more monochrome life without the colour of the World Cup, it was difficult for anyone to begrudge Mick McCarthy his moment.
Dogged by bad luck and ridden hard by some critics, he learned this management trade on the hoof.
He's not given to hubris but when he next sets out his CV he might like to list the managers he has outsmarted this past few months. Van Gaal of Holland, Oliveira of Portugal, Blazevic of Iran. Even Terry Venables, who faced this hurdle four years ago and failed.
For a man whose management experience had been limited to a couple of topsy-turvy seasons at cash-strapped Millwall, the personal journey in creating and guiding a young team has been remarkable.
Now that he immerses himself in uncritical glory it seems less hurtful to note that the bad days were many. And very bad. Once in Macedonia he sat and watched Lethal Weapon on his own in a room reiterating every curse he heard. That was the happier of the Macedonian adventures. We watched him put his arms around his tearful wife Fiona four years ago in Brussels when the World Cup campaign ended badly. And just two years ago he retreated from Bursa in Turkey bruised and hurting.
He's still alive and breathing on this giddy morning after the night before. So whether you doubted him, derided him or loved him, get used to the fact that you are going to be seeing a lot more of Mick McCarthy for the next year or so.
What to expect? Style? Gruff is the default setting. Loyalty? Will run forever. Passion? Hear him roar.
Hard times have changed him of course. He's a worrier. He is more grey, more gaunt, more guarded now than he was half a decade ago. The worry has planted crow's-feet around his eyes and the best fun you'll see him have is on the training field with his team, just out of reach of the microphones. If you come between him and his team you will not do so for long.
Yet the core of the man remains the same. Straight, decent and tough. More imaginative and well-read than he often lets on. More educated about football than you'd suspect. And totally in love with the game, too.
That training pitch is his office and his heaven. Those of us who travelled with him on his first away trip to Prague five years ago noted that straight away. On a baldy pitch high above the town he exulted in the little training games, the sessions of head tennis and keep-uppy and short passing. It's the only time the boy inside the man gets a chance to come out.
Criticism hurt always and even before yesterday's game he was anticipating what would be said if we lost. He is thin-skinned and sensitive, claiming not to read anything written about him but always keenly aware of whether the house is divided for him or against him. Aware, but that's all.
He announced early in his tenure that people are either in the tent pissing out or outside the tent pissing in. It's a small, tightly-packed tent and those wishing to step inside for next summer's corporate beano better expect questions about where they were on the bad days.
He stopped offering anecdotes and funny stories to the media a long time back and started second guessing media criticisms. Now he gets his tackles in first. Away from the press rooms, however, he has been consistent in the one matter which made the difference last night. Loyalty.
Loyalty is his greatest quality and his most useful weapon. There are players on the team who may feel disappointed when he doesn't pick or substitutes them but there isn't one who can accuse McCarthy of betraying them. Not to the media. Not to anyone.
Sent off, arrested, failing to turn up - McCarthy won't shop you and he won't play your case to get kudos for himself.
He has always been the same. His oldest friends are his best friends. His trouble with the media stems from an inability to stomach the idea of travelling and conversing with a man and then criticising him in print.
So all his players are spared the lurid headlines, if applicable. Only Roy Keane, Steve Staunton and Niall Quinn survive from McCarthy's playing days but each have rewarded his loyalty with wonderful performances in the last year or two.
He gave debuts to virtually all the current squad, nurtured them through the difficult first 15 to 20 games at this level and secured their loyalty under the galvanising shellacking from the media. Last night's passion was his reward.
The bonuses on the field were big from the start. There just weren't enough. Steve Carr and Ian Harte emerging as fine full backs. Robbie Keane arriving as a fully-grown star. Damien Duff's vast potential still unfolding majestically.
People are now speaking of the chances of Millwall's Steven Reid seeing World Cup action. McCarthy's team is young and evolving, which is what makes next summer and beyond so exciting.
"They were always going to be good players," he says modestly of his nurtured squad. "It has been a matter of getting used to playing at this level. When you look back and talk about leadership three or four years ago that's one of the things you have to think about.
"I remember as a player myself coming into international football and you wonder will you survive at this level, will you be able to step up the extra five or 10 per cent. It takes a while before you realise 'hey I'm doing this, I'm surviving', that's when you start expecting things of yourself and the team. And this team has got to that stage, they expect things of themselves as a team, not just to survive as individuals. Their results were never bad."
But through their struggles he helped them, kept picking players like Dave Connolly when their club situation was miserable, kept in touch with injured players, put in the miles night after night, Saturday after Saturday, driving from his Bromley home to any fixture with an Irish player in it. The players appreciated his work. They adhered as a group around McCarthy.
"That pleases me, that the players and myself have turned it around," he said recently, "we have made people think a bit." And this morning as his hour of greatest glory recedes to be replaced by the demands placed on a big winner he is the same Mick McCarthy. It's as he said it would be. No new friends. No hangers on, thanks.
"I won't do that. I'm not going to put on an act when I go into press conferences. That's not me. Things have got better with the media but there are still one or two I have a problem with. I'm sorry that side of me comes out from time to time. The media say 'we're only telling it as it is' but they don't like to be told the way it is the other way around."
The team he has surrounded himself with are old friends. Packie Bonner and Ian Evans from his playing days. Mick Byrne, of course, and then quieter figures like John Fallon, Ciarβn Murray, Joe Walsh and others who keep the organisation ticking smoothly.
This past week has been about what Mick McCarthy loves best and does best. The game. As a player he was the guy who loved the big day, who loved being the Christian against the lion. The harder his team were expected to fall the more Mick McCarthy longed for the battle to come. In management his principal pleasure has been taking a team on the road.
"I separate it better now. I had one time at Millwall, a bad patch, when I started taking it home and it affected us at home. No more. Results help you to handle it and help you leave it at the door.
"Over the last couple of years the results have been better. I'm not relaxed about winning and defeat still hurts. I hate it, but I don't take it as personally, I understand things a bit more."
Perhaps he doesn't take defeat personally any more but hopefully last night he took success personally because last night was his, a wonderful, landmark achievement in Irish soccer.
