It had felt like the Irish fans in the Czech capital hadn’t stopped singing since they got to Prague.
Well there was dead silence when that last penalty in the shoot-out went in, killing off Ireland’s World Cup dreams.
Several hundred of the thousands without tickets were rammed into The Dubliner pub, in the capital’s old town, to watch Ireland play Czech Republic.
Standing room only didn’t do it justice. You had people sitting on banisters, ledges and every other corner of the pub. Ireland scarves were wrapped around heads, like ties after midnight at a wedding.
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There was a queue to get in and grab a table, or any spot, when the pub doors opened on Thursday morning. People bedded down in the windowless basement-level pub for the day. A lot of Czech beer and Guinness was consumed. The Dubliner was viewed as a good spot to be, if you weren’t inside the Fortuna Arena. It was packed.
There was no room at all to manoeuvre, until someone carrying three or four pints had to angle their way through the green sea, then somehow it could be done.
A brave supporter ordered eight pints of Pilsner, with no immediate plan for how to ferry them all back to his table. A picture of the round gets sent into the Whatsapp chat, a plea for assistance.
One of his group happens to pass by and is handed two pints to take with him. Another mate arrives to help, and between them the remaining pints are carried off.
Replays of Troy Parrott’s goal against Hungary during RTÉ’s prematch build-up draw rapturous cheers, setting the tone. Then the match actually starts. “Do you want a sup?” one young lad says to another, charitably offering a stranger some of his pint.
There’s howls for a VAR check and celebration when the penalty is awarded. Parrott slots it away and a sheet of beer flies in every direction, plastic pint glasses hurled in the air.
There’s a delayed reaction for the second goal. Those in the pub take a few seconds to realise Ireland have gone two ahead. When they do, more beer is sent flying everywhere.
The fact the Czech Republic clawed one back from their own penalty didn’t stop the party.
In the really packed, sweatier corners of the pub several lads opt to go topless. One young guy is wearing a Kneecap-inspired Tricolour balaclava and so was presumably roasting.
The chants got quieter as the second half wore on and Ireland came under more and more pressure. After the 70-minute mark you start counting each minute. Every clearance earns a wild cheer.
Eighty minutes. Jesus. Then the Czech Republic equalise and heads dropped into hands for the first time. “Believe”, someone shouts.
The belief did come flooding back when Caoimhín Kelleher saved their third penalty to give Ireland the advantage in the shoot-out after extra time. Suddenly it seemed like the dream would come true, a magic night in Prague, to rival Budapest. Until it turned again and then the dream was over.
Fans stumbled out of the pub, drunk and shell-shocked. The night began to fracture off in different directions, some people ventured to find somewhere else to keep drinking, others went in search of kebabs.
There will be many long journeys home in the coming hours and days, but as midnight approached on Thursday, the party wasn’t over just yet.
