"And the North, where I was a boy Is still the North, veneered with the grime of Glasgow" - Louis MacNeice

The venue now seems an unlikely one: Bootham Crescent, home of York City. The date, October 22nd, 1996. But the words said remain fresh. After a tricky 2-0 League Cup victory in which Leicester City had finally overcome their hosts with a Neil Lennon breakthrough goal on the hour, the Leicester manager Martin O'Neill said to reporters: "I sigh when Neil Lennon gets the ball." O'Neill meant with relief. Over the past two weeks, however, there has been sighing of a different sort altogether when the subject of Neil Lennon has arisen.

A lot of it has been sad, a mournful response to the sectarian abuse Lennon received during the recent Northern Ireland game with Norway at Windsor Park, and what that said about Northern Irish life today.

A lot of it has also been weary, tinged with anger. In the "whatever you say, say nothing" culture of the North this has come from people who don't want to know because they are tired of knowing.

And a lot of it has come from Lennon himself, a natural half-sad, half-angry reaction to his plight as an Ulster Catholic from Celtic playing in a Protestant, bluenose-Rangers arena. It can wear you down.

Tough as he is, Lennon's Lurgan-born world view must have altered. He is a gregarious character, always one of the lads. "Lenny." He used to share Old Firm laughs with Rangers fans such as Tommy Wright and Barry Hunter, but those jokes can't seem funny any more. Facts such as his Gaelic football youth, his love of Celtic, and that scores of family and friends make the trip to Scotland each weekend are now held against Lennon. Not just facts any more.

A good talker, Lennon has spoken since the Norway incident, tried to explain his and his family's position and dilemma. "A very traumatic experience," was his description of March 7th in its immediate aftermath. He had left the ground early with an uncle and brother, shaken. To those who said The Booing was not as bad as was being made out, or that the "Neil Lennon RIP" hang-man graffiti was an isolated prank, Lennon replied: "They're not in my shoes."

Indeed. The morbid truth is that the minute Lennon decided to fulfil his "boyhood dream" of joining Celtic, those shoes became less comfortable. If Lennon did not know that before, he has since acknowledged the effect upon Martin O'Neill of being in the "Glasgow goldfish bowl", as Lennon put it. O'Neill is a much more guarded character than at Leicester. So, too, is Lennon. Prior to the last Old Firm game, his first, he said: "I'll try not to get embroiled in all the hype, although in Glasgow it's all or nothing."

Yesterday, though, Lennon spoke optimistically, if briefly. "The reception I've had in Belfast this week has been really good. I think most people are behind me. If what happened last time has made people think about the situation a wee bit more then maybe something positive has come out of a lot of negatives.

"I have thought about what will happen the first time I touch the ball and hopefully it will be positive. But I don't know if it will be. I feel more relaxed. There have been more positive vibes but if it happens again I'm not saying I won't walk away. I would have to think about it."

Having witnessed the divided reality of Glasgow, and the quiet development in O'Neill, the allegation that Lennon used a loaded term such "32-county team" when expressing his some-day wish to play for an all-Ireland football side is all the more difficult to believe. Lennon denies it; the journalist insists he said it.

What does not seem to be disputed is that Lennon said of his friends: "Most of the people I know follow the Republic." But, from a geographically and politically split town such as Lurgan, Lennon would know the danger of the alleged 32-county remark.

One Scottish journalist said last week that for them The Booing is "a dead issue". But not in Northern Ireland. Not in Lurgan. As a sporting example of just how far the alleged peace process has to travel, The Booing of Neil Lennon is fundamental to understanding where we are now. To downplay its significance is to bury the head.

Manager Sammy McIlroy has been accused of that. There are those who point to McIlroy's staunch east Belfast upbringing as evidence of his Protestant loyalties; it's the way others point to Lennon's childhood. Yesterday all McIlroy would say of The Booing was: "That was unacceptable. We're looking forward to the game. Neil's looking forward to the game. Neil Lennon has nothing to prove." McIlroy wants to get back to the football. Norway beat Northern Ireland 4-0.

Lennon does too. But getting back to football is hard given that if Lennon endures a similar experience this afternoon he will almost certainly retire from the international scene. He will be 30 this summer, not 20. He doesn't need all this. Celtic would probably not be too unhappy at that. They will want a player they paid £5.75 million for to be as ready as possible for a Champions League campaign.

But for the Irish Football Association, and Irish football, it would be a disaster if Lennon was forced out by bigotry. The signal it would send out would be more than symbolic. Already Northern Ireland are suffering from their decline on the pitch and the continued sectarian menace off it.

In the last four years almost a dozen young players from the North have opted to play for the Republic. Religion is a say-nothing issue, but most are Catholics. "I get calls on a weekly basis from people telling me this player wants to play for us and not the North," the Republic's youth football director Brian Kerr said last month. "It has almost become embarrassing the number of calls I get." Lennon touched on the subject yesterday.

Disregarding the politics, in purely numerical terms this is a trend the North cannot allow to grow. The IFA has expressed its concern to the FAI. It may be too late. "We've got a Provo on our team," was one of the chants heard at Windsor Park against Norway. Soon the people singing this could get the all-Protestant team they want.

Yet, only on Wednesday, Rangers chairman David Murray announced that the Ibrox club, concerned at the offputting nature of much of the atmosphere at Rangers games, will open a new family section where, Murray said: "Sectarian, racial or foul language or actions will not be tolerated."

It would be easy to deride the attempted cleaning of Glasgow's grime as a cosmetic gesture, just as it would be easy to dismiss the IFA anti-sectarianism campaign as irrelevant. But, even if reluctant, they are the beginning of a recognition that change must come. That players so identifiably "Ulster Prod" as Iain Dowie have spoken out against Lennon's treatment is another indication that a moment has been reached.

Dowie, a former Northern Ireland captain, has an English accent, but as he said after the Norway match: "My mother is from the Donegall Road and I was born at the bottom of Tate's Avenue, so Windsor Park was like a second home to me. But if this is what's going to happen to our own players, then perhaps the time has come for Northern Ireland to move from Windsor Park.

"It's sticks in my throat to say that as a life-long Linfield fan. But we can't tolerate our own fans giving one of our own players the sort of abuse we heard. If a new international stadium is the answer to getting rid of that minority, then that's what the IFA must work towards."

Symbolically, it would be the IFA's trump card. Windsor Park has too much history. From shots being fired regularly during games with Belfast Celtic in the opening decades of the last century; to the violent demise of Belfast Celtic there in 1948; to the abuse which Pat Jennings has spoken of; to the attack on Donegal Celtic; to the night in November against the Republic; and now to this. Windsor Park has been a theatre of hate.

So today should be pivotal, not just for Neil Lennon, but for Irish football. Ten thousand leaflets with "Give Bigotry The Red Card" will be handed out before kick-off. A mascot called EDI - meaning "Equality, Diversity, Interdependency" - has been born. Stewards have been employed to weed out the shouters. The tension will be great.

But, whoever wins, you will hear the sighs all the way to Glasgow.