Sideline Cut:The Ireland coach will have learned much from the traumatic events of recent months - perhaps the big lesson being that in Irish sport you really cannot win

MODERN RUGBY likes to portray its coaches as chess masters. That is why next Saturday's showdown against Wales is going to provoke endless talk about Eddie O'Sullivan and Warren Gatland. And it is why the Ireland team O'Sullivan picks next week will be interpreted as a window to the soul of the coach.

It would be interesting to learn where O'Sullivan went during those few weeks last autumn when, for a brief period, he appeared to have become the most hated man in Ireland. Remember the bitterness on the airwaves? Recall yourself cowering under the Lear-like proclamations of George Hook? Or marvelling at the disdain contained in the letters printed in this paper, gleeful in their predictions that Eddie, bossy and unloved, would get his comeuppance? No political figure of recent times has energised the kind of public contempt O'Sullivan did for those few months. And why? Because he committed the cardinal sin of coaching an Irish team that stopped playing well for a couple of months.

Those were a weird few weeks, marked mainly by the Irish talent for disgracing ourselves. Once it became obvious that, contrary to the noises being made by coach and players, Ireland were simply not going to challenge for the World Cup, all pretence of support evaporated, the mood became ugly and the blame was laid at O'Sullivan's feet.

The IRFU was trashed for gifting O'Sullivan with a four-year contract on the eve of the finals. An unflattering portrait of O'Sullivan emerged: he was a control freak, he surrounded himself with yes-men, he was fearful of innovation, crippled by an inability to see beyond his percentage-win total. As Ireland crashed and burned in the World Cup, it was easy to believe all that as we watched this neat, frowning man blinking behind a monitor, looking more like a troubled accountant than a maestro of modern sport.

Somehow, a popular notion was conceived that here was an Irish rugby team that would play like the Harlem Globetrotters if only there were allowed. It was said the players were miserable, that some threw punches at each other in the dressingroom.

The France World Cup was supposed to provide the defining legacy of the golden generation led by Brian O'Driscoll and if that was the case, then the team branded the pride of Ireland last February, through their heroics in Croke Park, were, in fact, chokers. Losers are not tolerated in this roaring, new Ireland. That was why it became all right to tear at the character of Ronan O'Gara with rumours treated as fact about matters that had nothing to do with rugby. That was why it was fine to treat this team as something of a national joke. That was why there was no homecoming parade and why the atmosphere at "Croker" was so flat against Italy as this Six Nations campaign began last month.

Maybe during those few months of darkness for Irish rugby, O'Sullivan took himself for long walks and concluded that when it comes to charming the masses he just ain't got it. He ain't no lovable rogue - he ain't no Hooky. Oh, he could point to the facts, he could point to the three Triple Crowns in four years, the Vincent Clerc freak try that stole away a first Grand Slam since 1948, the wins in Twickenham and the big autumn shows against Australia and South Africa. But all of that counted for nothing because Ireland went to France with a dead engine. That was the legacy. That was Eddie O'Sullivan's crime.

So far, he has survived the new season and some of the critics are even softening their coughs. Sport is strange. It could be argued the turning point in Ireland's form came when Gordon D'Arcy broke an arm against Italy. Which is not to suggest D'Arcy's misfortune was a good thing, only to state that unexpected changes can sometimes jolt a team back into life. It was the enforced inclusion of D'Arcy at centre that electrified the Irish three-quarter line in 2004. Now, his absence has hastened a reshuffle that has seen Rob Kearney excel, O'Driscoll showing the old flair and a fascinating fullback selection dilemma posed by the startling form Geordan Murphy demonstrated against Scotland.

Now, Warren Gatland rolls back into Dublin with a resurgent Wales team. Warren, who, according to popular legend, got bounced from the Ireland job because of the scheming of O'Sullivan. Warren, cool as a breeze and big-hearted enough to declare this latest game is nothing personal against Eddie.

But the hell it ain't, as John Wayne would say. The hell it ain't.

Everything is personal. You think Warren Gatland got to wear the All-Black shirt without being a savage competitor? Or Eddie O'Sullivan got within an ass's roar of the Irish job without being a ruthless sonofabitch? Or that every player O'Sullivan overlooks for selection secretly loves the coach for not seeing what he has to offer?

You think that elite team isn't made up of proud and highly motivated people necessarily obsessed with themselves and you are dreaming. Everyone wants to play. Everyone wants to be the best. O'Sullivan's job is to play god with them all. Because of that, he cannot expect to be their friend.

The performance of Geordan Murphy, a man with more reasons that most to feel aggrieved, presents a fascinating choice. The rugby public will want and expect to see him at fullback against Wales after his thrilling, attacking play against Scotland - and the classy way he accepted the late recall. But to satisfy demand, O'Sullivan will have to overlook Girvan Dempsey, the ultimate safe house, a player who is never a gamble and has done nothing wrong. Along with that, he has to decide between Bernard Jackman, the high-octane, battering ram of a hooker or a more accurate and conventional Rory Best. And finally, he has to decide whether to roll the dice with Tommy Bowe, the winger who has enjoyed a storming few months but is still cutting his teeth at Six Nations level. All of these choices represent gambles, and the last coach Eddie O'Sullivan would want to gamble against is Warren Gatland.

But then, what is the worst that could happen now? O'Sullivan did not lose his job last autumn but all he could do was watch on as arson was committed on his professional reputation and character. He has felt the huge warmth and (phony) emotion generated by that cheap cocktail of history, beer and TV when England came to Croke Park. And he has been to that friendless place of last autumn, when he became the subject of national mockery and scorn - until it was time for everyone to do the Christmas shopping.

And perhaps O'Sullivan has realised neither matters a damn. Perhaps it has taken him seven years in charge to realise in Ireland, you just can't win. And the funny thing is for the past few weeks, he looks like he is genuinely enjoying the job.