How others see us. Ole Gunnar Solskjaer is a classic product of the Alex Ferguson school of reluctant interviewees and will never use 10 words where five will do. His post-match television interview in the aftermath of Norway's facile 4-0 win over Northern Ireland last Wednesday night was proceeding along wholly predictable lines as the Manchester United striker effortlessly swatted away questions about how easy it had been for his country and made polite noises about the home team's endeavours.
Towards the end, though, of this less than engaging encounter something strange happened. Solskjaer was asked about the treatment that had been meted out to Neil Lennon, the Northern Ireland and Celtic midfielder, by a section of the crowd that was ostensibly there to support him and his team. The expression on the Norwegian's face changed markedly and was replaced by a look of incomprehension. Solskjaer was totally and utterly bemused by what had happened and no amount of media training was able to disguise that. It was a salutary moment. How others see us.
The 45 minutes Lennon spent on the Windsor Park pitch last Wednesday, the abuse that rained down on him and the fall-out in the days that followed are all laced with contradictions. Home fans vent more spleen on one of their own and all but ignore the opposition. Northern Ireland manager, Sammy McIlroy, condemns what went on but then bows to the pressure by taking Lennon off at half-time. The Irish Football Association, politicians and journalists unite in outraged reaction but appear powerless to do anything about it.
If anything it may be that the true impact has been obscured a little by trying to pretend that this is a football issue and has little or nothing to do with wider society. To appreciate the full impact, imagine how a similar scenario might unfold in other sports. Take a Six Nations rugby game at Lansdowne Road and suppose four of the players on the Ireland team are from Ulster. The likelihood is that they would all be drawn from a non-Catholic and non-nationalist background. What would be the public and media reaction if their every touch of the ball was greeted by cat-calls and boos from sections of the crowd unhappy that "these people" are being allowed to represent "their country"? There would be outrage and disgust on an unprecedented scale and properly so.
That is why there can be no equivocation when it comes to Neil Lennon. This was bigotry of the most poisonous and insidious kind. He was targeted not because he was a Celtic player but because he was a Catholic who dared play for and identify himself with a club like Celtic. His club affiliation merely provided a useful smokescreen for the bigots to attack his Catholic and nationalist background.
All of this makes for a dark, depressing vista. In the past few years there had been indications of a gradual thaw in relations between the Northern Ireland team and the Catholic, nationalist community here. Traditionally those people have looked south for their international football affiliations but were encouraged as the IFA made concerted efforts to address the core issue of sectarianism. Tranches of alienated supporters were beginning to see a viable way back. That process has now been set back perhaps 10 years.
Neil Lennon, a Catholic from Lurgan, was a hugely important symbolic figure for the IFA as it struggled to hold on to its best talent because he was proof that declaring for Northern Ireland was a realistic option. Before last Wednesday he gave every indication that he relished playing for the side and was the player around whom managers built their sides. The signals sent out from Windsor Park last week have ridden a coach and horses through any good work that was done.
There are some positives that can be pulled out from this mire. Lennon has carried himself with dignity and has emerged with considerable personal credit. He could easily have side-stepped the controversy and contented himself with what should prove to be a successful and lucrative club career at Celtic.
Instead he chose the more difficult option and if he does now decide that he can have no international future within the current atmosphere then he can hold his head up and say that he did try. The only people who have been diminished are those who hounded him. But the hate mail, the death threats and the barely disguised hatred have now made this about more than football for Neil Lennon and he now has both his own safety and that of his family to consider.
The extent to which both the IFA and the media have been prepared to roll up their sleeves and get involved has also been illuminating. In the past the innate sectarianism of sections of the Northern Ireland support was politely ignored by the journalists and administrators alike. On the basis of the past week, it seems that those days have been consigned to history.
It makes a welcome and timely change from just a decade ago when Anton Rogan, another Catholic who played for Celtic, endured a sustained period of abuse during Northern Ireland home games at Windsor Park. His every touch was booed and little or no reference was ever made to that.
Neil Lennon might testify that not much has changed in the interim but at least nobody involved in the control or coverage of the Norway game ignored or attempted to explain away what was going on. To a caustic outside eye that may not seem like progress, but when it comes to the Northern Ireland football team we have become skilled in the elusive art of clutching at straws.
