Next stop Budapest as Ireland take down Portugal and the Prince of Petulance

ONE MORE WIN: Ireland defeating Portugal leaves one more job to do - defeat Hungary on Sunday away from home. Picture: Stephen McCarthy/Sportsfile

Permutations? Numbers were on everyone’s lips before kick-off here on Thursday night but abstract notions tend to scurry into the darkness of the city’s November nightscape when you have €500m worth of talent dominating the ball.

‘Here lads, forget Budapest, like. Vitinha is looking to find Ronaldo again.’ Madeira’s finest was actually the ‘cheapest’ player on Portugal’s starting XI in this Group F tie, according to current values on the transfermarkt website. Then again, this a 40-year old legend who has generated almost €250m in fees down the years.

And won the odd trophy.

If this was to be the official end point for the Republic of Ireland’s World Cup qualification hopes then, hey, there might be some consolation in the fact that the full house would get to see Bernardo Silva play in the flesh.

That was one way of looking at it after Hungary’s narrow win in Yerevan. Then the game took shape and realisation slowly dawned that maybe something could be happening here. Like the dream of Rome in ‘Gladiator’, anything more than a whisper then and it might vanish.

Everyone began to feel it.

Ireland kicked off and sent a long diagonal ball down the left that petered out for a Portugal throw. Fine. So far, so Premier League, so modern football. This wasn’t going to be a night for pretty passing. Not on Ireland’s part.

Roberto Martinez’s side did what they do. They dominated the ball. Vitinha was pulling the most strings, Ronaldo had a couple of sighters, an attempted backheel among them, and Ireland were soon holding a line on the edge of their area.

There were almost 15 minutes of this pattern played when RTÉ put up a stat on screen to say that Ireland had just 18% by that point. By then they’d already found a seam down their right-hand side that was promising some return on the investment.

Twice they tried to work a square ball into the feet of the onrushing Chiedozie Ogbene on the counter. Neither came off but the energy it pumped into the stands spoke for a belief and a want from the full house that maybe this could be one of those great nights.

And, like, didn’t that first long ball out have just a whiff of Shane Long against Germany about it? Same bounce, same part of the pitch. It’s funny sometimes what the mind wants the eyes to see. Just over ten years now since that one. Gee, imagine.

Troy Parrott was making life a nightmare for Diogo Costa in goal long before the first of his goals, helped no end by a back line that insisted on playing the sort of high line that made almost every long punt forward a slick through ball and a gettable break.

This was the Lisbon performance last month but with a release valve. Hungary had put four past Portugal and Heimir Hallgrimsson had hinted at a recurring theme that might be followed up. The ambition to have a go was every bit as important.

This was an Irish team without a recognised left-sided defender, an already suspect midfield stripped of three possible starters and with Evan Ferguson, their top scorer in this campaign, rehabbing another injury and relegated to spectator.

Lenin once said that there are decades where nothing happens and weeks where decades happen. Watching Ireland can feel like that. Entire campaigns can pass with a meh. This was one of those nights where a full campaign was stuffed into 90-plus minutes.

Portugal had shots deflected, volleys blocked and passes diverted off toes and shins. Ogbene hit a post when it was still 1-0, and ended up on the floor in the farrago after Parrott’s second. Ronaldo’s cribbing was even given short shrift by the referee.

All this before the break. Before Ronaldo went and elbowed Dara O’Shea, VAR prompted a red card and the Prince of Petulance mouthed and mimicked the blame at Hallgrimsson for talking about his influence over officials the day before.

Before Caoimhin Kelleher made a superb 89th-minute save from Goncalo Ramos. Before seven extra minutes were announced. Before the second-half clock wound down to anything like a quasi-comfortable combination of numbers and the final whistle sounded.

And those permutations now? Only the one. Win in Budapest. Suddenly, that feels doable.