Why it’s time to put Robbie Keane on a pedestal alongside Brian O’Driscoll and Paul O’Connell

IN Zenica last week, the fog came down thick and fast but still we could see something quite clearly. In Robbie Keane, Ireland have an unofficial and unpaid assistant manager.

The image of the Irish captain, an unused substitute on the night, cajoling and advising his team-mates from the sideline, was the lasting one of the trip, even more so than Robbie Brady's goal.

For years, we never looked at Keane in this light, not as a grand old man of Irish football, instead as the striker who performed cartwheels after scoring, before standing - arms outstretched - staring at the crowd, inviting them to sing songs of praise.

Now, it's different. Now he is 35 and moving from the autumn of his career into winter. "Some players have been stalwarts for years," Martin O'Neill, the Irish manager, said last week. "And soon they will be gone. That'll be a hard decision to take."

Yet O'Neill is prepared to be ruthless. On Sunday, when asked how he felt about some of Ireland's older players missing out on Monday’s 2-0 second-leg win over Bosnia and Herzegovina, he bluntly replied: "Well, that is just tough luck."

Still, the application of tough love hasn't damaged Keane's morale and while he walked through the mixed zone after Friday's 1-1 draw with a look of disappointment across his face, there was no evidence of his bruised pride becoming a negative issue within the panel.

Instead, at training on Sunday, he delivered an impromptu pep talk, talking about unity and togetherness, about national pride and sacrifice, the sort of speeches he has become more comfortable making after his early years as captain under Steve Staunton's leadership threatened to end nastily.

Did it prove vital towards Ireland's comfortable win at the Aviva Stadium on Monday? We can only speculate, but it won't have done the first team any harm.

With time and with maturity, Keane has changed. Ireland's most capped captain is, arguably, also one of its finest. "Robbie's leadership is multi-layered," wrote Steven Reid in his Irish Independent column last week.

"He can give the rousing dressing room speeches but he can also perform the more subtle tasks. He has a brilliant way of including the new, shy, awkward guys into the squad."

And last Friday, as the game cried out for the introduction of the 67-goal man, he continued his warm-up down the touchline and continued to think of others.

Once, when the ball went out for a throw-in, Keane was the first to collect it, throwing it instantly to Stephen Ward before he threw in a word of advice too. Pointing infield to the unmarked Glenn Whelan, Keane screamed his instructions at Ward, who was ignorant of Whelan's freedom.

"I was aware of the suggestion that some players weren't that bothered about playing for their country," said O'Neill. "That just has not been the case from my experience. They are so committed, so passionate, it really has left a deep impression."

And in time you'd hope that impression would extend into the public domain because for years now, the connection between the players and fans has been damaged, partially because of the inflated salaries players earn, partially because of their underwhelming results, partially because public opinion can be fickle.

Within Irish soccer's heartland, though, some bitterness exists. Keane, the man who flew from LA to Sarajevo to sit on a bench, a month after he left the labour ward following the birth of his child to be available for the Germany and Poland matches, is not regarded as a national treasure, the way Brian O'Driscoll or Paul O'Connell are.

And while those cartwheeling incidents may have damaged his standing, you'd think by now he'd be given a break. People wouldn't just look at the 67 goals – which, contrary to perception, were not solely scored against the minnows of the world game but included three goals from the 2002 World Cup, five from play-off games, and also lead goals or equalisers in qualifiers against Yugoslavia, Holland, Sweden and Italy – and appreciate that he has given a lot.

And then they'd listen to the stories that have come out from the camp, of how he has rallied the troops when morale was low, how he has sacrificed his own ego for the sake of the group, encouraging Daryl Murphy, even though he was the man who had taken his place in the side.

And then you would hope people would look at his length of service. Seventeen years. They'd look at the games he has turned up for; consider the fact he has played through injury, remember how he left his family home, two days after his father was buried, to fly to Tirana for Ireland's European qualifier against Albania in 2003, and accept that this is a dedicated guy.

"I just can't believe Robbie Keane isn't thought of more highly," said Richard Dunne, his friend, in 2009. "I mean the guy just loves his country so much and anyone who thinks differently is being stupid. We've all been in his shoes, leaving home at 16, trying to settle in England, a different country, away from our families.

"We all had it tough. And we all fought that homesickness because we wanted to make it in the game. It wasn't the trophies we wanted. It wasn't money. All we wanted was to walk through Dublin Airport and for Irish people to be proud of us; to know what we contributed and that we tried our best."

As the finish line approaches, Keane has earned that respect. Surely his experience and presence is enough to land him a seat on the plane to France next summer?

But, beyond then, will the affection that O'Driscoll and O'Connell receive ever be transferred across the sporting boundary? Perhaps not just yet, but possibly over the course of time.

Some people aren't appreciated until they are gone.