Brilliant Wes gives us all an esprit de corps

T was the drag back that did it, just an outrageous piece of skill. With it he completely flat-footed the pair of Swedish defenders closing in on him. He took it on and found his man, James McClean.

McClean was game and athletic and all those things we like in our footballers in this part of the world. The Derry man drove powerfully for the end line with real intent, seeking to cross, seeking to create a goal-scoring chance.

In the end the ball just got away from him, out over the end line for a goal kick. The spirit wanted, the body let him down. McClean just didn’t have what Wes did and does have – genuine class and quality.

What’s rare is beautiful and to Irish football Wesley Hoolahan is both rare and beautiful. A free spirit, a natural talent. A player who the rest of Europe sits up and takes notice of. It’s been a while.

German broadcasters and media described him on Monday evening as the Irish Messi, they did so without a hint of irony or condescension. For once the praise from abroad is because of what we – okay because of what Wes – can do on the ball and not what we do without it.

How many times over the years has the coach of a big side come to Dublin and offered his pearls of wisdom about the Irish? You know the score. Ireland are big. Ireland are strong. Ireland will battle. Ireland won’t give up. They might even throw in a line about the fans.

It’s backhanded compliment stuff for the most part. It’s not even all necessarily true. The Irish team of Martin O’Neill and Roy Keane hasn’t been especially physically imposing, Jon Walters pretty much the exception that proves the rule.

No, since O’Neill has come on board Ireland have sought to play the game the right way and, to varying degrees, they’ve been successful at doing so. Qualification demonstrated that to be the right approach.

Monday’s performance – and the centrality of Hoolahan to it – was the culmination of that work. It was the finest Irish performance since, well since the Boys in Green last played in the Stade de France.

Hoolahan is the poster boy. His performance set the tone and captured the imagination. There was, however, much more to this Irish performance than just Wes. Seamus Coleman played just as big a role as Hoolahan did in Ireland’s goal.

Taking control of a pass that wasn’t exactly ideal he moved himself into a position – thankfully eschewing cries to get it in the box at the earliest possible convenience – to dink a ball over a couple of Swedish defenders and into the danger-zone.

Even then Hoolahan had it all to do. His shot off his weaker right foot on the half volley will be spoken of reverentially for years to come. It’s a better goal – although possibly less consequential – than Ray Houghton’s in Giants Stadium in 1994.

It was exquisite. The type of goal that gets locals cheering appreciatively and enthusiastically about the man they call Wessi at Irish fans in Paris cafés. It was no less than the Irish deserved after comprehensively out-playing the Swedes until that point in the game.

The Irish had created about four clear-cut goal chances before that – two for the really impressive Jeff Hendrick, one each for Robbie Brady and John O’Shea – and restricted Sweden to one or two scratchy efforts at most.

To all intents and purposes there was only one team in it. Ireland deserved that goal. They deserved a whole lot more really. They played well enough until then to win the game. All that was left for them to do was to finish the job.

The positivity and energy that brought Ireland to the cusp of victory was what they needed to see the game out. O’Neill’s boys needed to believe in themselves and believe in what they were doing.

Of course that’s not what happened. As we’ve seen time and again over the years after the goal the Irish, so assured and composed up until then, retreated into their shells. Fair enough it’s rare that one team will dominate another for ninety minutes, all the same the way the game flipped on a sixpence following the goal is no coincidence.

The great Zlatan Ibrahimovic, practically anonymous until then, became more and more prominent. Ireland surrendered control of the game, opting to kick long with their clearances, handing possession and the initiative back to the Swedes who received it gratefully.

It wasn’t until after Zlatan created the Swedes’ goal – a shame for poor Ciaran Clark, who had a really solid game apart from that unfortunate incident – that Ireland had began to play again.

Hoolahan, tiring, was replaced and the control so evident earlier on just wasn’t there anymore. Neither team had it. Aerial pin-ball was the order of the day pretty much. In the end a draw was just about the right result.

Ireland could have and should have won. At the very least they had it within their grasp to do so. For whatever reason that old conservative failing reasserted itself just when everything was falling into place.

It’s a curious mix or pride, disappointment and hope that we’re left with after Monday evening. No matter now. The dream goes

on.