Valencia, in the heat of June, 1982, and with a goal from Gerry Armstrong, 10man Northern Ireland has just eliminated the host country from the World Cup.

Spain may have been in uproar that night, but for the Irish it was magical and moody and as the jubilant players left the field, Martin O'Neill, the Irish captain, was pulled to one side and asked his thoughts. Did he respond that he was over the moon, or that it was a dream come true? No. O'Neill's reply was: "Well, it was a bit of a paradox really." For those watching, this was an answer that impinged on the memory and confirm O'Neill as one of the game's intelligent men - the ones who refuse to conform to the stereotype of footballer as empty-head, the ones who don't think paradox is a new boot from Umbro. Nor was O'Neill being the smart-arse some considered him, but merely trying to convey the complex emotions of a dramatic evening. And recalling those Spanish nights at Leicester City's training ground yesterday, the conflicting feelings returned. After the euphoria of that victory over Spain, Northern Ireland went on to beat Austria and faced France in the quarter-final in Madrid with a semi-final against West Germany at stake. With half-time not far off, O'Neill put the Irish one up and suddenly a World Cup semi-final loomed. However, in the very moment of his joy and with a single peep of a referee's whistle, O'Neill was to suffer a searing, lasting hurt - his perfectly-legal goal was disallowed. His face creased with the agony of it all, O'Neill takes up the tale: "Television replays proved I was a yard onside. Then a couple of minutes later, Giresse scores and they win 4-1. But if my goal had stood, I think we had a chance. It still rankles with me greatly, not being in the record books as scoring in the World Cup is soul destroying". Fifteen years on, the moment has acquired renewed relevance because when O'Neill leads Leicester into Europe on Tuesday night, he will be revisiting the scene of his greatest regret, the Vicente Calderon Stadium, home of Atletico Madrid. "Aye, that's where we played France," he said ruefully. For Leicester, Atletico Madrid also holds bad memories, being the team that eliminated them during their only previous European incarnation in 1961. But for the players of today, the manager's pain and the club's experience are history. Indeed for them, their only connection with Atletico is a fond one - Juninho. How Pontus Kaamark dogged the little Brazilian's every step in the League Cup final became one of the stories of last season, when Kaamark wondered aloud about the morality of such destructive tactics. O'Neill, warm and approachable and the epitomy of the word he seems to use most frequently - genuine - is hardly immune to such sensitivities, although his mood yesterday when considering Tuesday was altogether different, gleeful. "Imagine us even sitting here having a 20-minute conversation about playing in Europe." However, plonked underneath a noticeboard with categories for players on loan, suspended and the `sick, lame and lazy', he emphasised the importance of today's game with Spurs and the impression was that O'Neill is rather more comfortable with the idea of being the underdog, rather than its reality. And, not untypically for a manager whose achievements - guiding Wycombe into the League, gaining promotion at Leicester, winning the League Cup and keeping Leicester in the Premiership - are mounting, his preparation has been thorough. Unfortunately, it has also been daunting - last weekend he watched Atletico batter Real Valladolid 5-0, without Christian Vieri. "Oh, they're a terrific team. Jesus Gil said after that they were a cyclone out of control, but to me, they looked like a controlled cyclone." Then again, as a player with Northern Ireland, Norwich and Manchester City, O'Neill was used to looking into the eye of the storm, and it is a similar story at Filbert Street. It was only at Nottingham Forest that he had the wind (bag) on his side. Even then, Brian Clough let the young Derryman, who'd giving up studying law at university to become a footballer, know who was boss. That Forest connection has made it tempting to view O'Neill as some kind of Clough progeny, but that is too easy. "I was under a master in Brian Clough," said O'Neill, "but he had a style he'd finished himself and I think you would copy him at your peril." Others too, like Danny Blanchflower and Billy Bingham - who made O'Neill the first Catholic captain of Northern Ireland - have left their mark and yet O'Neill struggles when asked about the common denominators of the great managers, not to mention his own developing reputation. "You wouldn't say Bill Shankley, Brian Clough and Jock Stein, a great man, were all similar characters but they . . . they must have been . . . and it's funny, I don't see myself how other people see me, and I think that's unfortunate. "I suppose my daughters' description of me as `sad' - it's a euphemism for pathetic - sums me up." Few in England would agree with O'Neill's self-deprecation. And when he says that there is a comparison between the Leicester side he takes to Madrid and the Irish one he played in there, the Spanish might fear revisiting some of their regret too.

Guardian Service