SIDELINE CUT: As tackles go, it was last-gasp and brave and reminiscent of Roy Keane at his most glorious. Only Bertie stands between this fair land of saints and scholars and the pagan evil that is Sky television. There was hardly a dry eye in Ireland yesterday at the thought of our saviour valiantly strapping on his shin pads, donning the captain's armband and getting stuck into the turncoats of Merrion Square. As long as Bertie is our leader, Ireland (versus Albania) will always be free.

If the Bertmeister somehow conjures up a situation whereby Rupert Murdoch has to shell out seven million washers for an endless winter of 1-1 draws involving the boys in green while simultaneously clearing broadcast rights for beloved old RTÉ, then even the gnarled old Aussie media magnate will have to concede that you'll never beat the Irish.

If Bertie Ahern scores on this, then he is the real Captain Fantastic. Forget O'Malley's education revolution. Strike off Charlie's free bus passes and single-handed salvation of the arts. In fact, erase Daniel O'Connell and the Act of Emancipation. In Irish lore, Bertie will have landed the big one. Poor old Michael Collins may have thought he was delivering a chance for freedom but what did he know? Bertie is in tune with precisely what makes us feel free. And that's Ireland v Russia on the house. No ice, with a twist of Eamo.

It was hard not to shake a head in admiration for Brendan Menton and the boys of the FAI all this week. At least they can never be accused of courting popular opinion. How innocent we were to think they would be worried about the PR fallout over the wronging of Roy Keane. It seems now that Keano is lucky these guys simply let him go home.

In a different mood, they might well have court-martialled him and sent him before a firing squad in Saipan without blinking an eye. Next time Ireland is in a penalty shoot-out, I want the FAI to take the kicks. These boys have nerves of ice.

It is a well-known fact that FAI-bashing is the latest craze here. Anger-management therapists have begun to publish pamphlets on how to bash the FAI for the benefit of overworked IT consultants and stressed-out corporate top dogs. FAI-bashing does the soul good. It's like taking a big stick and beating it against the wall. You know that ultimately it is going to do no good but it instinctively feels right.

We ought to leave it to the men who give the Sunday morning sermons to remind us that the FAI are people too. We would stop short of suggesting that all the madness has to end and that we should all just get along. Nobody is saying that the boys of the FAI must be feeling sad right now and maybe need one of those big fatherly hugs Mick McCarthy was throwing around immediately after Ireland v Spain.

Nobody wants the bashing to actually stop because, apart from anything else, it is good fun. But at the same time, it has to be asked; how wrong are the FAI on this one? In global terms, Ireland is one of soccer's backwaters except for the fact that the country manages to produce enough brilliant players that, with the help of the nearby English system, combine to produce always respectable and sometimes very good international sides. Against the odds, we produce a few real stars every generation.

The profile that these select players engineer for the image of Irish soccer is light years apart from the reality of the FAI and domestic Irish soccer.

As the latest appalling pop anthem reminded us all through the World Cup, the good times are back for Irish soccer. After the last golden period, circa Big Jack 1990, the FAI was accused of failing to capitalise on bumper gates and advertisement opportunities. They were accused of being amateur bunglers.

Now Sky television comes and offers them a deal that leaves RTÉ's modest offer look naked and derisory in comparison. Interest in Irish soccer has never been so high in England and the World Cup just passed has seen the Irish game cross the threshold of respect among the English media. The FAI could do a lot with €7 million.

Their choice was simple; to either take the money and the flak or remain true to RTÉ, an entity that is famously cash-strapped and whose very future, according to many reports, is at risk.

So for once, the FAI did not do the amateur thing. They did business. And they instantly got beaten with a big stick.

The end of the FAI's relationship with RTÉ would be a sad thing. RTÉ have provided brilliant coverage, with analysis that transformed Eamon Dunphy into an icon, and a comedy routine that deservedly launched the Aprés Match team. After Dunphy threw the pen at half-time in Ireland v Eygpt (1990), a symbiotic relationship developed between the Irish fans and televised Irish soccer. We became enraptured not just by the 90 minutes but by the whole package. And that may be over now.

Sky television will give us none of that intimate involvement. They are technically flashy and very comprehensive but there is something tinny and soulless about their coverage. But that doesn't mean the FAI are wrong to sell Irish soccer to them.

The FAI has one diamond product and right now, it is hot on the market. A loss against Russia and a few bum results at home and that interest will dip very quickly.

And so will the passion here. As the World Cup demonstrated, we tend to get a bit hot under the collar about the boys in green. But we have no God-given right to be spoon-fed their adventures from now until eternity. Irish soccer is about spirit and romance and all that sort of stuff. But it's also about money.

The only relevant issue for the FAI is whether or not they are comfortable accepting the finance of a media organisation that has, at times, been poisonously anti-Irish in several of its many guises. If they can live with that, then they should have no problem taking the loot.

If we have to watch the games on Sky, we will find a way. It's not exactly tantamount to an invasion. And when the deal ends, the FAI will probably sidle up to RTÉ like an old floosy on Leeson Street. They will find their way back into one another's arms.

But all is not lost so long as Bertie is on the field. Before we know it, those ceaseless draws may well be listed as important national treasures. We will be able to watch gritty little Euro nations never beating the Irish in the safety and warmth of our own houses. (Or at least we would if we hadn't already agreed to meet a gang down the pub).

It could be that Sky is about to score a massive own goal. Right now, I can only think of one potential subscriber to a Sky package for the boys in green. And that's the boy Roy.