TV View/Keith Duggan: The past has caught up with us. All in all, this was a weekend that seemed to shrivel Irish international soccer, finally ridding us of the notion it was a more romantic entity than that enjoyed by other countries.
With impeccable timing, Roy Keane broke his silence on the eve of Brian Kerr's most important game as Irish manager. The timing hardly had any effect on the squad, The Dunphy Show does not air in Basel as far as we know. For it was on Eamo's apparently sinking ship that first-mate Roy appeared on Friday night.
The conversation served to tie up the loose ends, tracking back through the territory of the 2002 World Cup. Listening in gave the impression of walking through a forest a year after the devastating fire. There are so many more interesting questions to ask Keane at this point than "what really happened in Saipan?"
Of all the softly-softly approaches Dunphy has made to his guests, this was the worst.
Keane is incapable of being anything other than fascinating. With tremendous charm, he allowed Dunphy to take him on a waltz through the well-worn series of disasters that culminated in Keane flying home from Saipan. There was something slightly painful about Keane's by-now pitch-perfect recollection of the perceived betrayal by the old guard of Stan, Big Niall and Alan Kelly. "Muppets," he concluded.
This was grist to Dunphy's creaky mill and he grinned inanely. Dunphy may well respect and admire Roy Keane but here he seemed to be cranking up old controversies for ratings.
And Keane responded because he is too polite and honest to do otherwise. But it was clear it was still raw for him. To all the hundreds who criticised Keane's behaviour, Saipan was just a diversion, something to guff on about. To Keane, it was life; that World Cup represented for him a perfect marriage of personal form and global platform and the further his absence recedes in our minds, the stronger it will burn in his.
So there was something unforgivable about Dunphy waving a copy of the autobiography he produced with Keane and cackling, like Scrooge, "There is still one left folks!" Why not just shout: "I love Saipan. Now I'm rich enough to f*****g buy the dump."
It was tantalising to hear Keane came very close to being lured back to the Irish team by Brian Kerr and inevitably, those words still rung in the eardrums as Ireland dissolved in Switzerland. Funny, all the times Brian Kerr has been on television, this was the first time we have not seem him smiling.
When reality finally bit, it was nasty. Kerr did a terrific job of side-stepping through the mess he inherited. George Hamilton, though, with surprising vehemence, insisted that although this was Kerr's first loss, the reason we were going out of the championships was because of what happened last year under Mick McCarthy.
In the RTÉ studio, the mood was serious: "Let's take a hard forensic look at this table," demanded Bill O'Herlihy. John Giles and Ray Houghton dutifully studied the elaborate desk favoured by soccer pundits. Furniture examined, Bill had this to say about the boys in green.
"We are not good enough."
It was true. We were dismal and for the last 15 minutes, it was hard not to feel happy for the Swiss. They celebrated by dancing in that unashamedly cheesy continental way. It was harmonious and hopeful, it left us thinking: we were you, once.
The on-going Irish joke is that our best ever player was sitting at home doing a talk show. The hope here is he never mentions Saipan after this. He has communicated his pain and sense of dilemma clearly enough. The danger is it will become a folk tale, an after dinner story, much like the very life of George Best. Who keeps putting this man on television?
On Friday, Best turned up for his annual slot on the Late Late Show, leading to the inevitable billing as a battle of the heavyweights on RTÉ and TV3. The heart sank at the mere thought. Gosh, how we might bend over double as Georgie gave another rendition of that Miss World story? Oh, to marvel at those clips of the European Cup final of 1967.
And yes, we would have to pause and consider the demons associated with drink. But when all is said and done wouldn't we agree George was looking well? Yada, Yada. TV chief executives would be well advised there is a notable constituency - i.e. human beings under 35 - for whom Best is about as modern as Churchill.
People don't want to know. When Roy sees the modern-day Georgie, he should shudder and do everything he can to avoid entering his dotage by talking up the wild days of 2002 for the acolytes.
