There are times in sport when even the longest roads appear to have no turning, occasions when the heavy hand of history seems to drain it of the essential element of surprise.

For the greater part of the century football games involving the Republic of Ireland and Italy made the point well. Ever since the first fixture in the series, at Turin in 1926, the Italians had proved unbeatable.

In all, Ireland would have seven opportunities of imposing themselves on one of the bigger stages in international football. And each time they departed in the sombre knowledge that the discrepancy in standards was closing only slowly, if at all.

That was until a memorable day in New Jersey in June, 1994, when the countries met in one of the early games in the World Cup finals. And there, in a setting which invited the spectacular, we discovered that in sport even the most powerful dynasties are finite.

It is worth recording that in the pre-Charlton era, Liam Tuohy, John Giles and Eoin Hand had in their different ways contributed significantly to the evolution which took the national team from the lows of the 1960s to a situation in which the infrastructure was put in place to take account of the changed and changing format of international football.

Yet, undeniably, it was Charlton who put it all together for his adopted country, and, by virtue of shrewd decision-making and liberal implementation of FIFA's ancestry rule, took the Irish to heights undreamed of in the preceding 60 years.

The Irish squad had left their base in Florida and headed for the Giants Stadium in New Jersey for an appointment which would forever be recalled as much for the atmosphere it generated as for the result which reverberated around the broad world of international football.

Since that game in Rome the teams had met just once, with goals from Signori and Costacurta dooming Irish hopes yet again in Boston in 1992. Now, as the fans streamed into the famous stadium and the New York Italians for once found themselves out-numbered, we sensed that retribution for all those years of recurring defeat might well be at hand.

Paul McGrath must have thought so too, for in a superb international career the big man had never played better. For much of the previous year Charlton had agonised over whether the defender's scarred knees would see him through another World Cup campaign.

Eventually he decided that his experience was indispensable, and as it transpired it was one of the wisest decision of his managerial career. McGrath, controlling everybody and everything in his immediate vicinity, was immense and, taking their cue from him, the other members of the team quickly grew in confidence.

In some respects Ray Houghton's situation was not wholly dissimilar to that of McGrath. He too was thought to be entering the final phase of his career, and in the months preceding the World Cup finals the Ireland manager introduced the fledgling skills of Jason McAteer in the right-sided midfield position the Aston Villa player had filled for so long.

Once more, however, Charlton opted for maturity and within 15 minutes of the kick-off his judgment was vindicated. Franco Baresi, under pressure from Tommy Coyne, could only head a clearance across his 18-yard line, and with goalkeeper Gianluca Pagliucca stranded in no man's land, Houghton measured the chip shot accurately enough to take the ball dipping in just beneath the crossbar.

No less than his goal against England six years earlier, Houghton had again chosen an expansive stage to illustrate his aptitude for the big occasion, and it galvanised those around him.

Thriving on the goodwill pouring down from the stands, McGrath and Phil Babb, his partner in central defence, denied all Italian efforts to tunnel a way through the middle. And on the one occasion Roberto Donodoni's timing of the pass got them into trouble, Dennis Irwin timed the tackle with split-second precision to nick the ball off the toe of Dino Baggio.

Roberto Baggio, too, had known more rewarding days. And that was a measure of the manner in which Andy Townsend and Roy Keane performed in central midfield and the diverse skills of Houghton and Steve Staunton on either side of them.

And then there was the contribution of John Sheridan operating between the middle line and the one-man strike force of Tommy Coyne. Sheridan was numbered among those who could produce exquisite touches on occasions, but somehow seldom got the credit his skill deserved.

This, however, was the glorious exception. Arrigo Sacchi, the Italian manager, would later name him as Ireland's best player on the day.

Fortunately it mattered little. Ireland, with the discipline which came of six years trading at the top, defended vigilantly and in the end Houghton's early strike was still separating the teams.

From an Irish perspective it had been a day with few if any parallels. "There may still be trouble ahead," Charlton told us after the game, "but today we were good enough to beat any team in the world." Few of those privileged to witness the occasion were moved to disagree.