In the event, we didn't even have to ask. The Rugby World Cup had been embarrassing enough already without the spectre of Argentina crying for us. Luckily, when the final whistle blew on Ireland's hopes last night, the opposition was too busy having a Latin carnival to weep for anyone.
It was the close of a balmy day in the French capital. You had to remind yourself that this was autumn and the swallows had already gone south. It was somewhat less of a surprise that Ireland's World Cup chances had gone south with them. Three weeks of deepening crisis had prepared us for the worst. In winning by a 30-15 scoreline that didn't flatter them, the Argentinians just put us out of our misery.
The Irish fan sitting on the footpath outside O'Sullivan's pub on the Boulevard Montmartre earlier in the afternoon had the right idea. He had placed a plastic cup by his side with the notice : "Pour l'équipe irlandaise - merci". There was some money in it too - probably put there by French supporters who were depending on Ireland to win, and save France from a quarter-final against the All-Blacks in Cardiff.
That was a dubious prize all right, and it was the best Ireland could hope for if they achieved the tall order of beating Argentina with four tries and a eight-point margin. In a triumph of optimism, yesterday's Le Parisien talked of "le fighting spirit irlandais" that might just do the business.
But inside the Parc des Princes, the most conspicuous example of the fighting Irish was a portrait of Che Guevara - his mother's people were from Galway - on the tricolour of a bet-hedging fan.
If national anthems are as important as some people think, the wonder is that Argentina draw any inspiration from theirs, which is like the soundtrack of a comic scene in an opera.
The much-maligned Ireland's Call sounds like the Marseillaise by comparison, and was sung with something bordering passion.
Indeed, in this noisebox of a stadium where Ireland could never beat France, it was a rare chance for Irish supporters to intimidate the opposition.
But despite classy tries by Brian O'Driscoll and Geordan Murphy, Ireland never looked like winning, never mind winning in the required style. By the time Eddie O'Sullivan was preparing to be philosophical in defeat, the French had already mastered the trick.
In a weekend when Fiji knocked out Wales, the northern hemisphere's humiliation now sees Argentina hosting Scotland in Paris, while the French must emigrate for the Christians V Lions clash. Ireland, meanwhile, go home. For the "golden generation", it has been a wretched World Cup. The promise of Croke Park in the springtime now looks like a south sea bubble.