Martin O’Neill had never felt more pride in watching a team of his from the sideline

Seamus Coleman’s face was the first indication. Skipper for the first time, the Killybegs defender exuded intensity as he stood in the tunnel before kick-off. Teeth grinding, eyes locked on the task ahead, there was a certainty in Ireland’s performance there and then.

Emotion was less contained on the sideline.

Martin O’Neill jumped and leapt about like a puppet on a string all evening long. He roared and cajoled like a punter whose last tenner was on a nag in the 5.15 in Navan. This was raw. Deep. Unadorned.