As the Aer Lingus jumbo hit the ground here last night, a cheer ran through the cabin from the first-class seats, where the team lay in repose, to the cattle quarter at the rear, where lay the sober media. The first hint of the pending strangeness came when the female cabin crew presented themselves among us again wearing headscarves. Women with whom we have travelled for years began pinning similar headgear in place. Welcome to Iran.

As the cabin doors were prepared for opening there was an awkwardness in the air, a hushed fascination with the women's preparations, and the cold realisation that for the first time in years of travelling together as friends and colleagues, gender was now an issue like it had never been before. An odd silence hung in the air, broken eventually by levity. Do I know you? Suits ya! Should have done it years ago.

Outside, it was Iran. Men lined the corridor from the plane to the airport, but the atmosphere was one of determined fascination. Welcome to the Islamic Republic of Iran, they said, again and again, nodding and smiling courteously. Welcome, they said. And then, with a sympathetic smile: "You have no Rye Kin. You have no Rye Kin."

"Yes," we said, "no Rye Kin," and they beamed, scarcely able to believe their luck.

It is an underlying theme with players that they tire easily of questions about Roy Keane. Well, it's time to swallow hard. In Iran, everyone loves Roy. He is Banquo's ghost.

Along the corridors in the airport, the shops are brightly lit, the shelves groan with products wearing western brand names. The counters are staffed by women wearing black chadors, a uniform which renders them semi-invisible. It is not done to look into their eyes or shake their hands.

Further inside the airport, the team and officials, media and fans alike gather in a large hall to fill out landing documents. The players, bored with the flight, soon become bored with the media questions.

"Yeah, the flight was alright," says Jason McAteer,

"no problems, first class. The only way to travel, boys."

Oh, and what about . . .

"Roy? Yeah. Roy isn't here. We just have to get on without him."

The Iranian side have been through here some hours previously. The tumult was greater and the local fans believe Saturday's game, while marred by a few mistakes that led to defeat, was promising. There is optimism. Why not? They scored two late goals against Australia in 1997 to go through. Why not three on Thursday?

Mark Kinsella says he is tired of talking about Roy. Big Niall says he is fine. Ditto Seve Staunton. For now.

Mick McCarthy gives one of his airport carousel press conferences. Someday he will linger at an airport carousel and we won't gather around and he'll know it's over. Yesterday's man. Not this week, though.

Usual drill. Kind words about the hosts. One hundred Roy questions. One answer. "Mark Kinsella is outstanding. So is Matt (Holland). We will be okay."

Outside it was dark and beginning to rain and many football fans had gathered. There was chanting, but the atmosphere bordered on adoration.

"Tell them we love them," they tell the media, pointing at the players.

"Rye Kin? No Rye Kin?" No. "Big Difference!"

And in seconds the team vanished into the Tehran traffic, media and officials behind them. At the hotel a sign says Patience is the Greatest Bravery. Could be the theme for the week.