One of the curses of modern sport was visited on the national football team yesterday as Mick McCarthy presided at a press conference that held all the dark attributes of an inquest.
An envied reputation as national ambassadors in sport had been damaged seriously if not irreparably and, as the FAI chief executive, Bernard O'Byrne, remarked, we all felt diminished in the process.
It is right that fair minded people should be appalled by behaviour induced by alcohol. Gifted athletes have responsibilities to discharge, in and out of competition, and nobody was prepared to understate the seriousness of an incident, expediently described as a prank that got out of hand.
Equally, it should be seen in the context of a world in which the extravagant lifestyles of sporting icons, fed by big business on the one hand and the fawning attention of sections of the media on the other, have grossly distorted the old priorities.
In terms of earnings, those who excel in sport have never had it so good. Yet, in spite of that affluence or, perhaps because of it, the propensity to stray beyond accepted limits has never been more obvious.
Names which demand our admiration by sheer excellence in their chosen pursuits have been sullied by some outrageous behaviour - and sport in almost all its disciplines has been the big loser.
It is fashionable to describe the modern yob culture as a British phenomenon. That is to ignore, however, the scandals which at irregular intervals have surfaced in Europe, in particular, and in the Americas.
Yet, inevitably, it is English football and the tendency to lionise people, in some instances ill fitted to cope with the pressures of intense media coverage, which is seen as identifying the problem.
Players hospitalised because of drink problems, real or imagined, are big news and lurid headlines tell of the pressures of men who unwisely sought refuge in the bottle from the pressures of their trade In that, they are no different from a dozen other trades and professions. But somehow footballers are seen as public property and those who build the image of superstars are often, regrettably, the first to tear them down.
Arsene Wenger and Gerard Houllier, among other managers, were quick to acknowledge the problem when they set down in England where even stern taskmasters of the calibre of Alex Ferguson, the Manchester United manager, have occasionally struggled to keep a lid on the pressures at one of the world's most successful clubs.
As regards this week's incident in Dublin, there are well meaning people who will question the wisdom of allowing players out on the town until the early hours of the morning in the approach to an important game.
Yet, to call Mick McCarthy's judgement into question is to invalidate the strategy of his illustrious predecessor, Jack Charlton. It was Charlton's assertion that, within reason, a few social drinks on the evening his players assembled was an important part of the bonding experience. And he, of course, supervised the most successful era in he history of the game here.
For the next four days, the Ireland players will to all intents and purposes be under lock and key as they make ready for the big game. And within two hours of it finishing, they will be on their way back to Dublin.
Those of us who have observed the match preparations of players over a long number of years have occasionally wondered aloud at the logic of locking young men away on the top floor of a hotel, out of touch with the world and left to while away long hours in a setting which is wholly unreal.
This is not to excuse the indiscretions of the few and - lest we forget - the entire Irish squad or those who arrived in Dublin early had precisely the same liberty as Phil Babb and Mark Kennedy enjoyed on Monday.
But it may offer a better understanding of the artificial world which occasionally drives sane men to actions which discredit the work ethics of the vast majority of their fellow professionals.
