Locker Room: Bear with us now. This column started off with an idea and then, perhaps because the idea had only about half-a-column's worth of value, we veered off into other territory which had been distracting us anyway.

For a while we thought we'd devote a whole column to the other stuff, but finally we decided as a special treat we'd tie the two ideas together and, uh, make it look like a theme treated in a post-modern way.

We were thinking first to write about Sunderland, who are the story of the English season. They face the top three in the Championship in the next three games. After that little run they could be in an automatic promotion spot. Having been six feet under after five games, that is the greatest resurrection in modern times. Factor in the Quinny-Keano reconciliation and the Mick McCarthy handshake and you have a lesson for the times we live in.

This column can't be the only person to find himself looking for Sunderland's result of a Saturday afternoon with more eagerness then is decent in a person whose troth is pledged to another team.

Part of the deal with the roving eye on the teletext results is Sunderland's sudden Irishness. From the boardroom to the bootroom to the dressingroom, the Stadium of Light (why oh why did they vote to call it that! They even have an Academy of Light) hums with Irish accents. There's a reflex to follow the fortunes of the Irish in Britain, and having so many of them at one club is fascinating.

It's more though. They play nice football and they talk in an old-fashioned way about responsibility and community. Keane makes his players wear a tie for home and away games. They go paintballing and adventuring together. Sunderland turned down TV coverage for next week's game with Derby County, preferring instead to continue their work on getting crowds back up at the Stadium of Light. The average attendance this year is 29.597 and rising, easily the best in the division.

Keane, who has been involved in a crash course of 30 transfer transactions since becoming a manager, says: "A player's character is almost the number one basis I go on." On that basis, after a meeting with the player's agent which threw up a few things he didn't like, Keane let club captain Stephen Caldwell move on.

Character and responsibility are such forgotten parts of the professional sporting landscape that it seems almost quaint to look in on Sunderland and see those things valued and promoted. The first thing we are conditioned to do when encountering those qualities is to wonder what the angle is. The old "if you can fake sincerity you got it made" scam is it?

I think, though, that, as much as Irishness, those qualities (and the fascination with anything Roy Keane does in his life) are part of the reasons Sunderland will be a big club again. Building on values is almost a revolutionary idea in this day and age. This column does its purgatory on earth by being a Leeds fan. The last Leeds revolution (Ridsdale/O'Leary) was built on vanities and venialities. It was punished by the gods eventually, the deities displaying some very Old Testament wrath as they smited Davo's babies and Ridsdale's credibility.

Irishness will stretch only so far as a talisman against indifference or scorn. In San Marino a short while ago, we media shared a press desk at the back of a small stand. In front of us was a large chunk of the Irish travelling support. It was odd to track the moods of the erstwhile greatest supporters in the world. The spleen being vented against players, Robbie Keane in particular, was astonishing.

Of course Steve Staunton and John Delaney caught a lot of ugly flak too, but the players were subjected to bitter tirades of abuse until they scored and a decision was taken to "stand up for the boys in green" - and, coincidentally, to block the view of the pitch which we hacks find necessary for following games.

Was it just because Ireland were struggling against San Marino that brought the bile up from the pit of the stomachs in the stands? Doubtful. We were in Liechtenstein all those years ago when Jack's side drew one-all and everyone took it with resigned good humour.

That team, though, had values and character. You felt a genuine connection with them. They always gave the impression of feeling passionate about Ireland and their performances mirrored that. They spoke not to the media, but through the media to the people who followed them. We knew what sort of character Packie Bonner was. We knew what they were all like. They weren't remote from us. They didn't find us, their followers, distasteful. They mingled and drank with fans.

They were grateful for what they had.

Their successors tell us through leaks that if the man who has guided them to the landmark embarrassments of Holland, Cyprus and San Marino is removed, well, then they will remove themselves from the international scene. No harm if they did.

Roy Keane (the very mention of his name still draws angry letters) left Saipan because he wanted things to be better. We have men now who will battle for their own mediocrity. Are those who promise to leave with Stan among the same who found Brian Kerr's request that they think about their game and the way they play just too taxing for their rocking horse brains? Most likely. (We exclude the thoroughly likeable bunch assembled at Reading.)

This column recognises that due to certain (well-founded) prejudices it holds towards a certain element of the rugby constituency, its attempts at satirising rugby folk often turn into slightly sour mockery, a failing which has the unfortunate consequence of prompting the particular constituency being mocked to assume that the column has a chip on his shoulder and would like to be just like them. All that notwithstanding, we shall swallow hard and press on with the next paragraph which contains sentiments which rugby people may not find entirely offensive.

One of the key differences we will note while dipping in on rugby's time in Croke Park and soccer's pending tenancy is born out of the character of those who play the game. Munster's phenomenal success as a national institution is born out of what Keith Duggan described in this space on Saturday as their "likeability". It's true. You can identify with them as people even if not with their backgrounds. They project some of their character through their openness and that character is reflected in their play.

The same is true of the Ireland rugby team. There was no bile when they lost to France, and if they should lose to England this Saturday there will be disappointment but nothing personal. The team manages to share the sentiments of those who follow it. That's a nice thing.

Fast forward to late March and an Irish team which we feel less and less connection with takes the field against Wales. We all know that if Wales score first and early then ugliness will follow.

For all our musings on Irishness and the symbolic meaning of Croke Park being opened etc etc etc, an Irish soccer team playing there for the first time will undoubtedly be booed and barracked. The atmosphere will be fraught and tense whatever happens. If Ireland win, well, the attendance will buy back in for a while, but during the four-game series in Croke Park Ireland will need to keep winning.

Is that unpatriotic, to boo an Irish team? Should they be supported regardless? Well, only if they convey some sort of respect for us as their audience, some sort of feeling of connection with the people they represent, some sort of honesty in their performances.

Whatever happens in Croke Park next Saturday the support for the Irish rugby team will be undiminished and cheery in nature. When Robbie and the lads come to town a month later they will wonder why they aren't afforded the same reception.

They should look to the men steering things at the Stadium of Light for their answers.