Group D/TV View:Great teams get old in a jiffy. It is the same in any sport. In the RTÉ studio last night, the Father, Son and Holy Ghost of soccer punditry suddenly discovered the magic had gone. It is almost a quarter of a century since the Irish soccer revival began and it seems as if Bill O'Herlihy and John Giles and Eamon Dunphy have been with us every step of the way. And as they warmed up for the Slovakia match, it showed.

They went through all the right motions. Giles looked every inch the Mafiosa Don, Dunphy like a man hauled in from some speakeasy and Bill chuckled and cooed like an affectionate father as they scolded and tutted. But it all sounded hollow.

Dunphy worked himself up for one of his Lear-like outbursts but lost heart half way through. For a wheeze, the RTÉ technical team had drawn up alternative team formations so the lads could muse on the wisdom of playing Duffer up front or on the left or wherever. John Giles, though, seemed more interested in asking the big questions.

"What does flexibility mean?" he demanded after watching a smiling Stan Staunton speak with Tony O'Donoghue.

Tony is about as charming as pitch-side television men come and he is clearly a brave sort too because for the second week running, he had the brass balls to query Staunton's tactical selection to his face.

"You are happy enough with Finnan on the left and O'Shea on the right?" he said lightly.

Staunton's professional smile faltered for a moment but just a moment. Fortunately, he did not say in reply: "I have been capped 104 times for my country and spent a decade nailing down first team places in the best clubs in England. How many times have you played for Ireland?"

It would have made for interesting television. Instead, Staunton shot back with a nice waspish line - " I wouldn't have picked them otherwise" - delivered complete with a nice smile.

Back in studio, the boys looked like they needed a good shot of Prozac. Even the presence of Liam "Chippy" Brady couldn't lighten the mood. They were like four retirees used to meeting for beer shandies down the local for 20 years who realised all at once they'd nothing left to talk about.

"I just think you can talk forever here and not make sense," admitted Dunphy at one point. A nation nodded in agreement. Bill turned a little pale as news came through on his little earpiece that the match had been delayed by 15 minutes because somebody got a puncture on O'Connell Street.

"If people think we are talking on and on and on," he apologised with a wince. "We are," mumbled Chippy. And they were.

There are probably about a million different points to make about Irish football and the boys have made them all. Twice.

Down on the field, the Slovaks looked tall and handsome and athletic, like a bunch of professional tennis players who had decided to form a soccer team. Eamon fancied them to win. John Giles didn't know. Chippy stayed patriotic. Ireland scored after 12 minutes.

Twenty minutes later, Jim Beglin announced that Damien Duff was on fire. On the sideline, Staunton mooched around with his hands deep in his pocket, fertilising the Croke Park grass with little bullet spits. He looked like a wealthy farmer watching prize heifers in the parade ring. There were times when Ireland played some sparkling football.

"This crowd has gotten value for money tonight," enthused George Hamilton as Croke Park fairly rocked with the sounds of the best fans in the world.

It boiled down to one of those vintage Dublin football nights: hanging on to a 1-0 lead against big-boned Europeans while we crawled towards full-time.

"History is made in Croke Park. Never before has Ireland won four European championship games in a row," declared Hamilton.

Staunton, the condemned man, smiled broadly. Shay Given pumped the air. Duff pumped the air. But back in the studio, the boys were still glum.

"Steve Staunton has definitely dodged a bullet. This stuff about four games is just a statistic," said Dunphy.

He reckoned it was good to see all the young kids coming through, that the change gave reason for optimism. Not that that applies to punditry though. At Bill's table, nothing ever changes.

It was a great stage show but it might be time for an alternative formation.