For about three minutes on Monday night, Ireland played like they were a good team.
They held themselves with a bit of stature, they sought out the ball and looked to get forward with it, they closed Serbia down in their own half as if they were only average players that would buckle under a bit of pressure.
The first goal was carved from Robbie Brady's decision not to hook an awkward ball over his shoulder to safety. Instead, he did this weird thing. He brought it down in a tight area against the elements and he played out, on the deck, started a break which ended with James McClean winning a free kick at the edge of the opposition box. Ireland scored from that piece of madness of Robbie Brady's.
But it was almost as if they knew they would score. It was almost as if they believed in themselves.
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Then, of course, they soon reverted back to that old Irish attitude of thinking we mustn't be that good. Serbia must've done something wrong. Don't get ahead of yourself, that kind of thing.
And the rest of the game was dire. It was scared, weak and depressing. It was a shadow of the team who went out in Lille and simply had to beat Italy. They had to win or they were out and it brought the best out of Ireland.
But, in Serbia, in the September of a new campaign, nobody was interested in winning. Nobody's ever interested in winning these games for Ireland.
And there were the hosts too, crying out to be slaughtered. Not even 10,000 people bothered their arses turning out to watch them, every misplaced touch of a Serb was being booed and jeered and the fans simply couldn't wait to give their own team a hostile reception at half time.
It was nearly like they didn't want Ireland to score because their own agenda was set. They were baying for blood but the Irish's ineptness ruined their fun.
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When all the Republic had to do was put a wounded Serbia to the sword like their own players and fans seemed to be pleading for, O'Neill's side raised its shields and sat in a defensive position until the enemy recovered and decided to come at them again. Then it was just a series of buck-passing and shitting themselves. Collectively. Pathetically.
Every one of them knew what was coming - everybody could see it - but nobody seemed to care that much. All they were concerned about was not being the man to make the mistake that would lead to the inevitable equaliser. The goal was almost accepted; who they could blame was still up for debate.
And they weren't even encouraged to snap out of that mindset. The subs never came until the damage was done - once again we were reacting, instead of acting. Actually, what comes after reacting?
Yet what we heard afterwards was the same shit. What a tough place this is to come, central Europe. That sort of crap. Serbia were the home team and all that - a home team who barely had the guts of 9,000 people there, and they weren't all exactly supporting them either. The conditions were spoken about and the twists and turns of a campaign were mentioned and all the rest of the nonsense you'd expect.
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The bottom line is that this game was very winnable, away from home or not. It was proved when Ireland went behind and once again had to chase a game and, yep, once again raised the question of what the hell were we so scared about in the first place. Ireland needed a goal and they began to walk through Serbia until they found one. Simple as that.
The bottom line is that there are two tougher games to come in this group and that only two teams will advance from the pot at the end of it. How many games can realistically be considered a 'good point'?
The bottom line is that we're all to blame for our 'we'll take that' attitude. Be happy with what we got. Don't get too greedy. We're only Ireland remember. Well f**k that. There was a game here to be won and it was left behind through no other reason but our cowardice. Through no other reason but our tradition of not trying to win these games.
Serbia were there to be spanked on Monday night and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. This respect thing for these teams can only go so far. Ireland came for a point and that's what they got but there was no reason to settle for that. Either they weren't instructed to take the game to Serbia or they were just riddled with their own self-doubt that they shouldn't have the balls to take the ball down and actually keep possession.
They averaged one pass a minute through the first half. One pass. That's embarrassing. It's more embarrassing than any mistake would ever have been. It's more embarrassing than what losing would've been.
Playing football is risky, you see. The irony of course is that it gives them the best chance of not only winning, but putting a Serbia team like that well out of sight long before that game would even had notions of being over. We'll never know though because we'll never try to know.
We'll never know because we'll never try to win these games. And we don't try to win these games because someone doesn't think we're good enough to win them.
We're Ireland, you see. Don't get ahead of yourself.
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