Enda McEvoy: A goal in a blue moon but Ireland end up howling

Alan Browne of Republic of Ireland heads to score his side's first goal. Picture: Stephen McCarthy/Sportsfile

Seventeen minutes in and suddenly the moon turns blue, hell freezes over and the veil of the temple is rent in twain. Yes indeed: Stephen Kenny’s Ireland have scored a goal.

It’s a neatly worked goal too, Callum Robinson showing sleight of foot to stand the ball up and Alan Browne rising high at the far post. The ball hits the net.

A thousand correct-score bets, all of them featuring “Ireland 0”, hit the dust.

Welcome to Mittel Europa. We’re in Belgrade, though for all anyone knows it could equally be Bratislava or Budapest or possibly even Vienna, for the latest instalment of the Netflix series that has gripped a nation. Stephen Kenny: Right Man, Right Place, Wrong Time?

Will Ireland win? If not, will Ireland score? If so, might it actually be a goal from open play as opposed to a goal from a corner?

Darragh Maloney, playing devil’s advocate, wonders if an exercise in parking the bus might not be legitimate if it ends up with Ireland getting a point on the board. Richie Sadlier isn’t having any of it. “We’ve used that style of football for the past few years and that hasn’t been successful either.” One doesn’t have to kick the ball long for 90 minutes, adds Kevin Doyle, to get a result. “You can mix it up, be clever and still get a result.”

And Ireland do mix it up, and look hungry and clever from the off, and Stephen Kelly, alongside George Hamilton in the commentary box, helpfully explains the noises offstage from the visitors’ backroom team.

“That’s the press and the instructions from the sideline and the triggers for the press.” One up, then, and for the next 20 minutes Kenny’s charges look comfortable. Upon which George, for reasons best known to himself, decides to declare that Mark Travers has been underworked. “Serbia haven’t been able to test him out.” Too soon, George! Too soon!

Sure enough, the hosts equalise before half-time via a clinical finish from Dusan Vlahovic of Fiorentina, apparently the “coming man in Serie A”.

No matter; prior to kickoff we’d happily have settled for 1-1 at the interval.

Back in the studio Kevin is grateful for small mercies. “A goal, Darragh. Thank God!” He’s well pleased with the performance, all the more so as Ireland are operating with a back three for the first time under Kenny.

“I thought they were excellent.” As does Richie. “Without the ball, solid. Intelligent on the ball. And we scored a goal!” Come the hour mark Serbia begin to turn the screw. Dusan Tadic, late of — and fiendishly crafty for — Southampton, may be almost absurdly one-footed but it’s a left foot so educated, it has an MA from UCC.

After 63 minutes they bring on Aleksandar Mitrovic, that firecracker of a striker who, were he Irish, would unquestionably have started the game.

Six minutes later, Tadic to Mitrovic. Bang. Six minutes after that, Tadic to Mitrovic again. Bang again.

End of.

Or possibly not quite. With five minutes left James Collins — me neither —makes it 3-2. Will there be time left for the most improbable of draws?

There won’t.George: “A brave Irish performance just comes up short. Close but no cigar.” 

Given the injuries and absentees there are few fingers to be pointed.“A lot of that performance you could get behind,” Richie affirms.

Kevin: “ All in all a decent performance. A lot to be positive about.”

Richie cuts to the bottom line. One team had Tadic and Mitrovic. The other didn’t. QED.

Goodnight Vienna. Or Budapest. Or Bratislava. Or Belgrade.