While the German hosts scooped the attention on the opening day of the world cup, in Dublin city centre, nearly 200 Poles - out of the estimated 130,000 living in the Republic - gathered in their red and white jerseys before a big screen, in a sweaty upstairs pub, and bit their nails.
Chaplin's upstairs is a little bit of Poland every night of the week.
Last night, the Poles took over entirely, faces painted red and white, armed with the five euro cover charge , flags and scarves, and it has to be said, a certain degree of complacency in the face of entertaining but lightweight little Ecuador.
"We NEED this . . . We NEED to win," said Ireneusz "Eric" Suski, the pub's Polish manager, sounding a bit Irish. "Everybody needs this - maybe because the Polish team loses so often."
Yes indeed, Eric, we can empathise.
We could empathise about a few other things. By all accounts, Poland has had its own little Saipan.
On the wall, hangs a tiny Dudek jersey, unfortunately recalling the controversial axeing of poor Jerzy by the coach, Pawel Janas, about whom the politest headline in the Polish media read : "Has Janas gone mad?" That was nothing though compared to the outcry after his dropping of top scorer, Frankowski. A meeting was hastily convened with the prime minister to explain himself.
Yes, indeed. We had a lot of common, apart from the little detail of not actually qualifying.
There were also a few things we clearly did not have in common. As the team list appeared on the Polish channel, TVP1, and the Chaplin's crowd chanted "Pol- SKA! Pol-SKA!", a tray of patriotic red and white shots - cherry cordial at the bottom with a dash of Tabasco, topped by "white" vodka - was passed around.
And here's the thing: there was no grabbing. Fans took one politely, then went back to sipping their Zywiec - Polish beer at €5 a bottle - calmly by the neck and stayed sober, even when Ecuador scored in the 23rd minute.
Furthermore, those who didn't collapse their heads into their hands failed to roar obscenities at the commentator who dismissed the goal as a momentary lapse: "It's not that they're worse than Ecuador . . ."
The pub emptied onto the street at half-time for a cigarette and nervous analysis, to the robust soundtrack of Poland's Pavarotti, Torzewski, singing the national team song, "Go Ahead Poland".
Gosia, a bartender at Harvey Nichols in Dundrum, smiled wryly as she translated the pundits' prediction that mad Janas would "reorganise" his team in the second half - when, of course, lightweight little Ecuador scored another goal.
A dream was dying. We were beginning to achieve common ground again. "Well, they are the third team in South America," said Jan, "maybe we didn't think about that enough."
"Well, no-one died," said Rafal. "It's only a game,"
Hmmm. Maybe we haven't that much in common after all.
