Agony for the usually-reliable Harte (Allsport)

By Simon Stone, PA Sport

Ireland don't qualify for the World Cup very often.

They don't carry the weight of expectation like England. They haven't the history which burdens Brazil.

But they do like a story in the Emerald Isle and they never leave a stage without telling a tale.

This was a thriller and it had a familiar theme, the old one about penalty kicks, one missed, one scored, then 10 at the end.

Twelve years ago David O'Leary strode up like a nervous schoolboy and plunged his homeland into a party so joyous, some of its guests have never been seen since.

It proved so popular two of O'Leary's proteges thought they would combine to produce a sequel.

Note the subtle irony of then and now. Second round, Italy lying in wait for the victors, the thread weaved inexorably through the story waiting for the vicious twist at the end.

O'Leary was watching on from the discomfort of a television studio when Ian Harte placed the ball on that single round spot which brings so much tension, joy and despair.

Harte has made the most of limited ability by perfecting the art of the destructive dead-ball. Fizzing free-kicks, powerful penalties. Residents of Elland Road's Kop have been known to duck in fear when Harte is about to strike, even with a sturdy net to protect them.

But the sweat tricking down Harte's face could not mask the fear in his eyes and he made his way forward to take the fateful kick.

Casillas was already on the floor when the ball arrived, such was the weakness of the effort. The keeper parried then rolled out of the action, giving Kevin Kilbane a gaping goal to aim at.

But France and Argentina combined have not had as miserable a World Cup as Sunderland. Thomas Sorensen shepherded England into the quarter-finals yesterday, Kilbane appeared to do the same for Spain today, hacking wildly wide - with his good foot too - to hush the Irish hordes.

Down the clock ticked, beyond desperation point, beyond the time it took to find a 'last-gasp' equaliser against Germany.

Read the script again, something was missing, the plot needed another turn. Watch the ball, it's flight, underneath the bird - or Niall Quinn - prevented from flying high.

Another penalty, another chance.

Harte was wearing a top blushing as bright as his red face would have been if this moment went begging. Stood helplessly on the touchline, responsibility transferred to a Leeds team-mate.

This time it was Keane, not the one who likes to walk his dog, and Robbie didn't disappoint. The gasps of glee floated out of the Far East and across the globe, even to a small suburb of Cheshire where one famous inhabitant must have been wondering why his own effort about a tortured soul had been dismissed without a second read.

Maybe if he had stayed on and tinkered on his story, it might have had a better ending. After all, his is the finest work and only subtle changes are required to change history.

But real life is not a fairytale, sometimes reality has to strike. Maybe he is happy now.

The Spaniards are happy. In the end, the pressure affected them the least.

The hero Ireland demanded to stand alongside O'Leary never came. The only emotion was sorrow.

But the tears will not last long. Irishmen like to party too. And lets face it, they have plenty to celebrate.

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