It was one of these nights! One of these crazy, crazy old nights. And then some…

When Ireland were drawn in a group that included Belgium, Italy and Sweden, there was a feeling that the writing might well be on the wall before a ball was even kicked.

But if football is a funny game, then tournament football is even funnier. Who would have forecast, for example, that Northern Ireland would claw their way out of their group, by beating Ukraine? There wouldn’t have been many takers, but they did it – with a great headed goal by Gareth McAuley that had desire and the will to win stamped all over it. They wanted it more – and they got their just reward a few minutes from time.

Being beaten by Poland and Germany didn’t matter. That one goal was enough to see Michael O’Neill’s men take their place at the business end of the tournament.

And that is the weird thing:sometimes one goal really is enough.

Sometimes. But the brilliant strike by Wes Houlahan in Ireland’s opening game: that was a different matter. McAuley’s goal was all passion and determination. In contrast, Wes’ was a thing of beauty. It came from pressure and passing, with Ireland forcing the Swedes back. And finally there was a great piece of skill from Ireland’s right-back, Seamus Coleman. Having jinked his way into the box, Coleman produced a beautifully dinked cross to the point of highest vulnerability in the Swedish box.

As Coleman made his run, Wes Houlahan had pushed forward towards the edge of the six yard box, but with an instinct for where the ball would land that was almost telepathic, he then stepped back a couple of yards. There is a fine line between success and failure. It is illustrated all the time in football and this was as good an example as you could find: that short shuffle back in anticipation was crucial. He took the cross in his stride and hit it on the half-volley. It powered into the Swedish net.

Brilliant. But not enough for victory nonetheless. Sweden’s great footballing icon, Zlatan Ibrahimovic, got very little space during the game, but then he doesn’t need much to make an impact. When you analyse his team's equalising goal, you see that John O’Shea was a fraction of a second off the pace: that gave Zlatan a vital yard. Darren Randolph in the Irish goal might have dived to parry the cross but was rooted to the ground. If Ciaran Clark had committed half a second earlier, he’d have been a metre or two closer to the goal – and sticking the ball in the back of his own net would have been almost impossible.

Tiny increments make all the difference. All three Irishmen contributed to our undoing. Sweden levelled and the game ended 1-1.

In our second tie, Belgium thumped us, as a result of a series of unforced errors – and it looked as if we were doomed. I knew – we all knew – that the Irish players would give it everything in their final match against Italy. But, even in the knowledge that we would be going out against a weakened side, it was impossible to approach the game with any real confidence. I thought we’d be saying good luck to our Northern neighbours and waving France au revoir.

EXTRAORDINARY MOMENT

Driving home, text updates on the team kept bleeping through. Clark was out. Shane Duffy in. Murphy would play. So would Shane Long. The clamour for James McCarthy’s head had fallen on deaf ears. He was in. Glen Whelan was on the bench. And then the final twist: Wes Houlahan had also been omitted. I let an audible groan. It is not that Wes is the footballing equivalent of the second coming – but he is the only truly visionary, creative footballer in the Irish squad. With him on the pitch, there is the possibility that we might conjure something out of nothing. Otherwise, set pieces and attrition are the likeliest sources of goals for us.

No one seemed to be quite sure how Ireland would line out. Would Robbie Brady play wide or in the hole? Would James McClean line out as a winger or an auxiliary striker. Was it a 4-4-2 with Murphy and Long up top? Or if it was the recently preferred diamond shape, how would they piece it together?

In fact, the thinking was different altogether. Instead of sitting back, Ireland adopted what was more like a 4-3-3 system, with Murphy in the centre, as what Brazilian footballers call a ‘reference’, Shane Long to the right and James McClean to the left. From the kick-off they pressed up on the Italian defence, making it difficult for the opposition to play it out. Ireland were on the front foot. It became evident, quickly enough, that the Italians were rattled by it.

Tactically, it was a masterstroke. Would it have worked against the Italian first eleven? Who knows? It is an old adage in football that you can only play what’s in front of you on the pitch. It may have been that Martin O’Neill felt that he could afford to gamble that the Italian team – with all of eight changes – would lack cohesion. Or it may simply be that he and his back-room team had worked out that it was imperative not to let the opposition settle, that we had to get at them in their half to have any chance of scoring.

Strategically, it worked brilliantly. Ireland dominated the game. The players stepped up to the mark, imposing themselves on the Italians. James McCarthy was superb: he read the game really well and was both tough in the tackle and composed on the ball. Robbie Brady and Jeff Hendrick also shone brightly, the latter looking like he has far more to his game than the average Championship midfielder. And James McClean was outstanding: strong in defence, fearless in making challenges, aggressive going forward and hugely determined to make something happen.

The referee, on the other hand, was shockingly bad. From the start of the tournament, Shane Long has not been given the protection that any player is entitled to. He has been thumped in the back, wrestled to the ground, elbowed in the head repeatedly and kicked in the cranium more than once. He has got a few frees alright. But when it came to the big calls, he has been failed hugely by officialdom.

In the opening minutes of the second half against Belgium, in particular, not one but two Belgian defenders went close to decapitating him in the Belgian box. It was dangerous play, on a grand scale, not once but twice – and a certain penalty if the referee hadn’t been either blind or desperately wanting Belgium to win.

What made that failure to act especially sickening was that Belgium broke down the other end and grabbed their opening goal after James McCarthy had failed to head Eden Hazard off at the pass and Glen Whelan had inexplicably decided to leave Romelu Lukaku room to gather the ball and pick his spot. We’ve heard it a million times: goals change games. If Ireland had scored from the penalty spot rather than Belgium from play, who knows how it might all have turned out?

Well, the failure to punish the opposition for molesting Long in flagrante continued last night. Daryl Murphy too got a bit of a going over, once in the most extraordinary manner in the opposition box, with one of the Italian defenders apparently trying to pull his head off. The referee was watching but gave nothing – when if it had happened in the centre-circle it would have been a free and a yellow card every time.

And then there was that extraordinary moment, late in the first half, when James McClean was blatantly felled inside the box by Frederico Bernadeschi, as the Irish wide-man powered forward and prepared to pull the trigger.

The referee was incompetent – and that is to put it kindly.

DEATH OR GLORY

Goals change more than games. In Ireland’s case on occasion they tilt the world slightly, so that – to a people beleaguered by rain – it feels like a nicer, sunnier place.

Might the Italians snatch one first? There was a scary moment when, against the run of the play, Lorrenzo Insigne sped across the front of the Irish defence and created enough room to get a low curling shot off that hit the post and rebounded to safety. It would have been a terrible injustice if the Italians had scored, but you’d still have to count it as a major let-off.

As the players tired, Martin O’Neill began to roll the dice, making substitutions. On 70 minutes, Aiden McGeady for Daryl Murphy. Seven minutes later, Wes Hoolahan for James McCarthy.

And then it happened: a bit of sloppy Italian defending gifted the ball to Ireland and Wes was in, twenty yards out. He pressed forward: it was not quite a sitter, but it wasn’t far off. Hard and low into the near corner and it was a goal. Instead, he seemed to be caught in two minds – or maybe it was the lamentable surface – but he scuffed his shot slightly, directly at the keeper, Sirigu, who made the save. Watching at home it looked like that was it: we were done for. And – a stark injustice – Wes Hoolahan would forever be remembered as the guy who blew our chances of going into the last 16 of Euro 2016.

Still Ireland pressed. Robbie Brady was back in his own half helping out. He passed to Aiden McGeady around the half-way line. McGeady kept possession, moving it out to Wes Hoolahan on the right. Brady had kept going, running 70 yards into the Italian area.

Wes checked back and with his left boot picked his spot.

It all comes down to mathematics. People groan when a cross is over-hit. And sure, a professional who is getting paid anything from 20k a week to 200k should be able to more or less get the weight of a pass or a cross right. But think of the variables: the amount of moisture on the surface; the stability of the balancing foot; the movement of the ball; the quality of the grass; the angle of attack as you start to kick; the direction and speed of the wind; the impact of any challenges, coming in right or left; and whatever bobbles, spins or other factors have been created the last time the ball was hit – and so on.

There is a gorgeous feeling when you connect with a ball just right so that it floats barely over an opponent’s head, beyond jumping height, and angles into the path of one of your own team.

In this case Robbie Brady had continued his run. Wes saw where he was heading. The precision of his stroke was hole-in-one quality. The flight took it over the Italian captain Bonucci’s head. Brady glanced up, kept his eye on it all the way and committed fully.

The goalkeeper might have clattered him. Brady didn’t care. He timed his jump to meet the ball about 6ft and 6ins off the ground. The ‘keeper Sirigu was in no man’s land. Robbie Brady had to make contact with his forehead: otherwise he might have lifted it over the bar. He also had to time the contact perfectly. He did and it was in the back of the net: a beautiful end to a very sweet move.

1-0 to Ireland.

We know the rest. In a tight game, a goal close to the end is far better than any other time. We did a professional job of playing down time. The prize was ours. Not just victory and acclaim – and the knowledge that history had been made: Robbie Brady will have ballads written about him.

Even more tantalisingly, Ireland went through to the last 16 – and a date with France in Lyons on Sunday. It is as tasty a footballing prospect as you could imagine.

The imponderables are many. Might Jon Walters be fit? Who of the players that were rested might make a return Or could it be that Martin O’Neill will feel that he has found a formula that works for us?

Right now, we are on a high. But reality beckons. The dream is still alive until Sunday. It is death or glory. That, after all, is the beauty of sport. The full moon is calling. The fever is high. "Coming right behind you," James McCarthy says to Paul Pogba. "Swear I'm gonna find you." Bring it on!

James McClean: We did it for "this country, for those fans, for ourselves and our families." https://t.co/y1OKItPBiEhttps://t.co/8burLO1Fgm

— RTÉ Soccer (@RTEsoccer) June 22, 2016

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