Even aside from the real human calamities that have accompanied it, the Irish cricket team's qualification for the World Cup Super 8 has some of the qualities of a small natural disaster, writes Frank McNally.
It was totally unexpected, for one thing. It happened in a poor but picturesque part of the world, for another. And as the players and supporters grapple with an unplanned month-long extension to their trip, stories of homelessness and hardship are probably now inevitable. All that's missing from the scenario (at time of writing) is Charlie Bird.
Of course, for most of those involved, this is a happy disaster. Even so, there would seem to be a case for the Government to establish an emergency relief fund. The Irish Cricket Union must be nearly bankrupt already, and most of our amateur players surely promised their employers they'd be back in the office by next Monday at the latest.
Then there are the fans. I know none of them have to be there. But the heroism of the so-called "Blarney Army" as it went over the top last week, braving what must have seemed certain ridicule, deserves recognition.
When Sky TV hyped the tournament with that corny promo of bantering fans - including a construction worker boasting about the chances of the "mighty Irish" - sensitive viewers in this country had to avert their eyes. In retrospect, the ad seems prescient, even down to the token Paddy's hard hat.
Instead of being cut down in no man's land, the Blarney Army has swept on deep into enemy territory, occupying large parts of the nightly BBC highlights programme and encountering little resistance. Now that it's safe, there will be no shortage of Johnny-Come-Latelys applying to enlist. But the heroes of Kingston, meanwhile, may be forced to return home because of lack of funds, or a shortage of annual leave.
As a recipient of a small army pension myself, I know exactly how they will be feeling today. I am one of the dwindling band of veterans who were in Irish soccer's GPO - also known as Stuttgart - in June 1988. The pension I refer to involves being able to mention this fact every so often, when there's a lull in the conversation.
Like most of the cricket fans now, we had budgeted then for glorious failure: elimination at the end of the three-game group stage. Instead, after beating England and drawing with the Soviet Union - yes, younger readers, it was that long ago - the awful prospect loomed that the team might go all the way. It continued looming for a full 83 minutes of the last group match in Gelsenkirchen, until our dilemma was finally resolved by a freak goal.
That was virtually a home game for Holland and for the first time Irish supporters were vastly outnumbered by the opposition. As the Dutch celebrated at the end, the stadium's green section looked and felt like a small unripe patch on an orange. And yet amid the bitterness, there was relief.
Bad and all as it was to be eliminated, having to return to Ireland in time to watch the bandwagon leave for the knock-out stages would have been insufferable. Thus, you could say we were experiencing malicious enjoyment in our own misfortune. I'm sure the Germans have a word for it.
We sang in defeat, exchanged colours with our opponents and wished Holland well in the semi-finals - gestures that were all mistaken for the pure sportsmanship with which Irish soccer fans were from then on synonymous. Yes, it was us started that whole thing. And it was only because we couldn't afford to stay in Germany another week.
Cricket's World Cup format is even less forgiving of success. The price of getting out of the group is at least six more games after today. And since the competition is being hosted by the West Indies - a "country" that exists only in cricket - the venues are scattered expensively across an entire region.
I haven't yet mentioned the group of people worst affected by the drastic revision of schedules: those intrepid Irish journalists who volunteered or were asked to cover the group games. They and their editors must surely have thought the arrangement was just for two weeks. Now both are coping with the grim reality that the reporters cannot return until late April.
Our hearts go out to our colleagues in the Caribbean as they face an endless series of balmy days and beaches and long evenings sipping banana daiquiris under palm trees, their only consolation being that it's all on expenses. We are all plagued by guilt at their plight as we sit here in our safe European homes, watching it on television. I for one am ready to join the relief effort, if there's an NGO with a vacancy out there.
In the meantime, yet another sporting confrontation with England looms, in this the unlikeliest forum of all. Which reminds me that not the least remarkable thing about Irish cricket's success story is that it has taken place before we could even have a heated national debate on what anthem to use. Does the cricket team even have an anthem? Does anybody care? I suspect we'll find out in the next week.
fmcnally@irish-times.ie