Party almost over as reality bites in Poznan

It’s only eight days on from Ireland’s first trip to Poznan but, around the charming city yesterday, it felt like light years.

There wasn’t the same buzz. The carnival atmosphere was fading. In short, the party is almost over.

Indeed, reality was reasserting itself all over.

As I made my way into the city from my hotel, the fans I shared a cab with were trying to find somewhere showing the hurling.

“Sure as one championship ends for us, another...” one of them philosophically said.

Then there was the supporter I strolled up to the Poznan stadium alongside. He was going up to get his ticket, in order to sell it... but not because he was fed up with the tournament.

“Sure I’m flying home tomorrow. I’ve to hand in my thesis on Thursday.”

In a Poznan flat full of 10 lads in their early twenties who were pretty much always on the booze, the poor bloke was trying to get bits and pieces of it done.

“Ah, I had to regiment my drinking time. I went at it hard the first few days and then after the Spain match. But, otherwise, I was on the laptop.”

Sobering. In every sense.

But not quite as sobering as Italy’s pre-game press conference.

It’s fair to say that the last games of Group C might have more dimensions than any others in the tournament. There’s the intrigue of the potential rerun of 2004 for the Italians, Giovanni Trapattoni being on the other side of that, his old apprentice Cesare Prandelli coming face to face with him on one of the biggest stages, the fact the world champions are not yet through...and what did the Italian press discuss for 95% of the press conference? Formations.

It was a football trainspotter’s dream.

At one point, Prandelli even said “I love to talk about the technical and tactical aspects of the game... but come on!”

It put the Irish debates about whether or not Trapattoni’s football is too cautious for the team into a rather simplistic context.

This is a country, you could really sense, that was absolutely imbued with tactics.

It wasn’t the only displacing moment of the day, mind. As I sat in the Poznan media centre watching Portugal eliminate Netherlands, loud cheers rang out from the Uefa volunteers.

Germany had scored. And those celebrating were all Polish.

“We just love their football... and, look, Podolski is Polish.”

The party may not be over just yet. If that's the case, we may be entering a whole new one.