A FEW years ago, nobody would have seen Northern Ireland's qualification for Euro 2016 coming.
Not when you consider how bad it was, back to a time when belief had disappeared and so had a team sponsor. Northern Ireland's football team was a problem child, unloved by one section of society, largely ignored by the other.
Results were poor but results weren't the issue. The issue was sectarianism. The songs being sung, the colours being worn and the underlying tone of aggression simply turned people away. The easy thing to say is that it was just Ulster Catholics and nationalists who had lost interest in their national team, but the truth is that almost everyone had.
When did the problem reach its nadir?
That's an area for debate. Was it when Anton Rogan, a Northern Ireland international from west Belfast who was playing for Celtic, was abused by a large section of Northern Ireland's support during a game in 1990? Or did it come when Neil Lennon suffered similar treatment 11 years later?
No, the low point arrived in 1998 when the IFA, Northern Ireland's governing body, spent six months dealing with unanswered phone calls and cancelled meetings. The team had no sponsor, therefore the Association had little money to invest in either the game's grass roots or its national side.
No marketeer needed to tell them the reason why. As a society, Northern Ireland was changing. A ceasefire had been in operation for four years - broken by dissidents in the tragedy at Omagh - and while a reality existed that terrorism was ongoing, this wasn't what Corporate Ulster wasn't to portray.
Everything, and everyone, had to be seen to be rosy. Hope and history had to rhyme. We were told to look to the future not dwell on the past.
The difficulty was that the direction over 40 per cent of the population were looking to was not the past but the south. The Republic of Ireland was the team most nationalists wanted to support. If that was something that needed addressing then it tied in with the more pressing financial one. Disillusion with the sectarian chanting prevalent at international matches was widespread.
And this was why the IFA appointed a community relations officer in 1998, and why they approached the amalgamation of Northern Ireland Supporters Clubs to plead for their help. "The perception is that Windsor Park is no longer a place where families want to visit," the Supporters Clubs were told.
Their reaction was mixed. Debate ensued. Mistrust was prevalent. "At the time, Northern Ireland was going through considerable change and a lot of people were suspicious of the political motivation," said Gary McAllister, the Supporters Club chairman.
The moderates were determined, though. They loved their country, loved their national team but hated the image portrayed of them. They weren't bigots or extremists or sectarian. They went to Windsor Park to watch a game of football not to use it as a political forum.
And slowly things began to change. When graffiti decorated a wall in Lurgan depicting Neil Lennon, then Northern Ireland's best player, dangling off a hangman's noose, there was considerable derision. Yet there was also significant support for the depiction. That same week, when Lennon wore a green shirt for the last time against Norway, a section of Northern Ireland supporters routinely abused him whenever he touched the ball.
Lennon's crime? He played for Celtic.
Significantly, he never played for Northern Ireland again. Just as significantly, though, was the spontaneous reaction of a larger group of Northern Ireland's supporters at that game whose cheers for Lennon served as a balance to the jeers. More to the point, fights nearly broke out between the disagreeing parties.
Shortly after, in a game in Teplice in the Czech Republic, the 500 Northern Ireland fans present spent the entire second-half of that game chanting Sammy McIlroy's 'green and white army' - and the team had a new soundtrack. Until then, The Sash and The Billy Boys was the chorus of choice.
Change, however, was underway. Michael Boyd, a community officer with the IFA, set up the 'Sea of Green' initiative in 2004, encouraging supporters to wear the team's colours rather than neutral. And as a policy it worked, as did a more strategic plan to liaise with supporters groups and organise singing sections within the stadium.
Armed with megaphones and a band of drummers, the chorus leaders deliberately counteracted any attempts by fans to sing The Sash by conducting a different, less contentious tune for the singing section to follow. As a plan, it was a subtle way of implementing change. "No one was compelled to follow us," said McAllister. "We had some robust debates at meetings where some very strong viewpoints were expressed. But that's democracy. People are entitled to their point of view."
Over time the evolution became a revolution. Windsor Park is being rebuilt. So is Ulster society. Belfast is a nicer place to live now compared to twenty years ago and, by extension, Windsor Park is a much nicer stadium for Catholics to go to.
However, division still exists. Republic of Ireland Supporters Clubs still travel from Derry, Belfast, Lurgan and Newry to the Aviva Stadium. For nationalists, God Save the Queen remains an unpopular anthem and the sight of Ulster flags and Union Jacks remain offensive emblems. Yet if a perception exists that the only change is among the attitude of Northern Ireland's supporters then a point has been missed.
Crowds have increased. Families have returned. The 4,000 attendances of the 1990s have trebled and will quadruple when the stadium rebuild is completed. And while no one could put a precise figure on the percentage breakdown between Northern Ireland's Catholic and Protestant support in the pre-ceasefire days, nor can they do so accurately now.
Yet it's clear that an increasing number of Catholics are interested. Celebrity supporters range from Michael Clarke, the All-Star winner with Down in 2010, to Rory McIlroy. The fact Michael O'Neill, a Catholic, is the team's manager is viewed as an insignificant issue rather than a symbol of a changing culture. Besides, Catholics managed Northern Ireland before.
"We're there because we're football supporters. We just want to see our country do well," said McAllister.
And they are doing well. Qualification for a leading tournament, the first time it has happened in 30 years, was secured with a game to spare with O'Neill's combination of journeymen and a few selected stars punching way above their weight. Kyle Lafferty, a reject at Norwich, has proven to be one of international football's most prolific strikers.
If all that seems extraordinary then McAllister, Boyd and the supporters groups, however, have achieved something even better than that.
