Soccer/ World Cup Qualifiers: What do you do with a group of players who leave their Rolexes and bespoke shoes and fine clothes locked safely in the dressingroom along with their hearts?

Nice tans and expensive haircuts and keys to shiny sports cars are things which the current Irish team have in an abundance unimaginable to their predecessors. In the hierarchy of human needs, however, they seem to need no more.

On Saturday in Nicosia, where the Irish support outnumbered the locals by about four to one, Ireland scored early. Stephen Elliott's first senior international goal was not a thing of beauty but compared to what was to follow it glinted like a diamond in the rough.

Ireland were wincingly abysmal until half-time. When they had their cup of tea and composed themselves they came out and were slightly less abysmal.

This seemed to satisfy them and at the end, having held on by the skin of their pearly white teeth, they took their bows with the hungry relish of divas.

Had this game not been played in a decent stadium under the auspices of the World Cup qualifying programme it might have enlivened a Sunday morning in the Phoenix Park. We might have paused and watched for a while, grinning at the comic ineptitude of the defending. Then we would have walked on to see what was happening elsewhere.

Had this pallid performance been a once-off aberration for this group of players it might have been forgivable and understandable. We would have explained it by saying that their eyes were on Wednesday's showdown with Switzerland. When it comes to boys in green jerseys we are always keen to deceive ourselves.

Sadly though, insipid is becoming the default mode for this team. On Saturday night for the fourth time in this campaign they took a lead and attempting to perhaps to shut up shop just seemed instead to walk off and abandon shop.

If the shop metaphor is to be persisted with, Ireland were at best all over the retail establishment. The only consolation was that this time the lack of an efficient first touch in the Cypriot attack and the defiant genius of Shay Given combined to thieve three points for Ireland.

Wednesday night is still somehow moot and relevant.

In the most sober aftermath that a World Cup victory away from home has ever seen, Brian Kerr was obliged to put some kind of face on what had just transpired. He spoke of the three points. How Ireland had come for three points. The fact that Ireland had taken three points. He looked hurt, though.

Certainly not convinced of what he was saying. He found himself adding little modifiers to every sentence. "We need to play better." "The first half wasn't good enough." "We'll have to play much better."

One commentator noted during the first half that if Ireland qualify for Germany Shay Given should be the first name on the team sheet. Well yes. No point in being too radical. In the meantime Given's excellence on Saturday excuses him from attendance at the inquest and should earn him the eternal gratitude of his colleagues.

Without him they would be be in stockades this morning and we peasants would be pegging vegetables which are past their expiry date at them.

The Irish back four looked as if they had just met each other and were being forced to play football as some sort of community service punishment. Cunningham and Dunne were kinkily pliant and passive as they were manhandled by the Cypriot centre forwards. Carr and O'Shea took turns at competing for the award of Biggest Waste of Potential In A Full Back Position.

The back four are wealthy enough, of course, to hire the best (uhm, unintentional irony alert) defence lawyers for their trial. The thrust of their argument would be that if the others further up the field weren't trying very hard, why should the back four.

At this point Stephen Elliott, whose honesty was conspicuous throughout, would be advised to retain separate representation. The others are going to swing. From the time that Ireland declared on the grand total of one goal it is hard to think of a convincing performance from anyone.

We gave the ball away early and often as if we could hear it ticking ominously. We stood off politely. We attacked naively. We left Given as unprotected as a trailer park in a hurricane. Somehow we got away with it. And this, was remember, an Irish side whose sulkiness all week had led us to believe that they had something to prove to us all.

Given that we took three points the price of our performance in Nicosia is low but not inconsiderable. When we take the field on Wednesday we will be without our only two outfield players of undisputed international class. Roy Keane and (almost certainly) Damien Duff will tune in from the treatment table. Keane has been gone for some time. Duff twisted his knee badly on Saturday night.

So to endgame. Of endgames. It all comes down to the wire on Wednesday night in Paris and in Lansdowne Road. The French play the Cypriots hoping that a big win will see them in to another World Cup.

The Swiss, in pole position, meanwhile, travel to Dublin chipper and optimistic. They have become accustomed to playing the Irish over the last few years and have yet to see anything which might scare them. Last time they were here the so-called Lansdowne Roar dissolved into the booing which was the theme music for Mick McCarthy's farewell. They have entertained the Irish twice in Basle since. Won one. Drew one. Saw no passion from the Irish on either occasion.

On Saturday the Swiss extracted a vital point from a thrilling game against the French. It was a nice way to prepare.

Of reasons to be cheerful there is just one we can think of. Ireland can't be any worse on Wednesday. Surely?