Steve Staunton marched into the Round Room with flashbulbs popping and blazers fussing. It would be a memorable day for him, and much of it would be spent in a historic venue for the launch of a new venture.

On another January day in 1919, the First Dáil gathered in this room. The launch of this latest Irish administration sees an Irishman preside over an assembly which includes not just Sir Bobby Robson, but a Scotsman, coach Kevin McDonald, and a child of the Diaspora, goalie coach Alan Kelly. They sat at the top table and waited to announce their plans for the nation.

As press conferences go it was a low-wattage affair, and Steve Staunton would have planned for it to be that way. The new manager spoke earnestly about the need for a new start with the media, and mentioned that he was aware of how things had been between players and the media in recent times. But he is an old-style football man and media gladhanding is not foremost among the qualities which got him to the Mansion House yesterday.

Apart from the times when he is talking off the record to football people about football, Staunton punctuates every sentence with a sigh of mild exasperation, the sort of withering exhalation which Kenny Dalglish patented years ago. Ask Steve Staunton a stupid question and you don't get a stupid answer, you get a withering look.

Ask him for an answer which trespasses on dressingroom business and you get the sigh. "Let's wait and see."

The new Irish management team have the same quiver of good intentions which all their predecessors have had. The team will play with passion. The bowels of the earth will be scoured for young players. The Granny rule will be pressed into play. Retired players will be rousted from their lazy chairs. Graves may be plundered. There may be abductions.

All that will take time. Steve Staunton is more one for walking-the-walk than talking-the-talk, and yesterday he made a point out of not raising expectations beyond what are reasonable. With a four-year term ahead of him that caution is a luxury he is wise to avail of.

"We are looking to the future. We are looking at a four-year thing. We're not daft. We know the Europeans will be very difficult. We will give it our best shot, but ultimately we are looking at 2010, we are looking at developing players and bringing them through.

"We'll be looking to be ready for the next tournament also, don't get me wrong. We'll be looking for the right blend."

To this end, he pointed out that genealogists will be beginning work on the most thorough shakedown the Granny rule has had since Jack Charlton learned about it. Kevin Nolan of Bolton and Dave Kitson of Reading are among those already being mooted.

Staunton's declared intention to use the rule, and the manner in which he declared it, was the most concrete evidence available yesterday of the character of the man. He set out the case for recruitment in terms which would brook no argument.

"I think it served us well in the past. As a small nation we have all had uncles and aunts who had to move away. My own kids are English-born, but if somebody turned around and said they couldn't play for Ireland or whatever I wouldn't be very happy."

Predictably, little light was shed on the relationship between Staunton and Bobby Robson. Yesterday, said Robson, was their first day together and unfortunately it was a press day. They will sit down soon and hammer out the plans and the details.

That seemed odd. The intimations in things Staunton said and things which FAI officials said was that the FAI would have hired Staunton on his own. Whether that was

post hoc spin we will probably never know, but it seems a little odd to have hired a big name at big expense and to have inked a contract before anybody has worked out what the job description is. Still, Staunton and Robson appear content with each other for now as they head off to tilt at windmills.

Staunton noted that he had seen the manager/mentor relationship work at Liverpool (when Kenny Dalglish took over) and had liked what he had seen. He had approached Robson through the offices of Niall Quinn and there was enthusiasm from the start.

"This man here will be sick to death of my voice on the phone, there's all sorts to the job. I'm going to pick this man's brains. I want to learn as much as I can in a short space of time."

As for Robson, he was willing to extend his hand and pat Staunton on the head with it.

"It is his first job," he said with avuncular charm. "I think he's done very well there today to face you lot and say what he said and how he said it."

All in all it was a tame affair. No gaffes and no petticoats showing. Mission accomplished. The time for questioning the appointment, the quirky relationship at the centre of it, or the FAI's modus operandi is now past.

Stave Staunton will be judged once more by the one measure he has always felt comfortable with: results on a football pitch. By being low-key, by not setting out his stall too ambitiously, he began the new seam of his career just as he ended the last. Cautious and smart.

There was one other moment which gave a glimpse of the steel underneath. Staunton was asked if managing players with whom he had once socialised would be a hindrance.

He shrugged the suggestion off and noted that in his time in football there was one thing he never really had any problem doing, and that was telling people what to do. " It's just part of my make-up," he said.

Bobby Robson, sitting quietly beside him, stole a quick glance. The look was that of a man who had just realised that this would be no sinecure.