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Before the crunch qualifier with Slovakia in Bratislava in early September, the Irish players left their dressing room and climbed a flight of stairs where they were greeted by FAI security man Tony Hickey.

He was the last person they encountered before entering the playing surface and he exchanged warm handshakes with Robbie Keane and Shay Given and some of the other older players. There was even a bear hug for Kevin Kilbane.

Yet from some of the fresher faced members of the panel there was no reaction for Hickey. No handshake, no hug. A minor detail, perhaps, but symptomatic of the divide between old and new in this current squad, the unspoken reality of the Steve Staunton era.

This is no particular reflection on Hickey, who is popular with the players that have soldiered with him throughout the years, through the era of Mick McCarthy and Saipan, the World Cup and all the extras that went with it. Understandably, bonds were formed.

That is the past, however. And it was to the past that Staunton went when he was appointed as manager of Ireland. Hickey and Mick Byrne, cast out by Brian Kerr, were immediately restored to the mix. Famously, Byrne's return was kept secret until he leapt into Damien Duff's bedroom, waking him up with a hail of kisses. The good old days, indeed.

This was the contrast to the DVD addled days of Brian Kerr, where the players were bored to the point of mutinous. Stan, the old dressing room general, was bringing the fun back.

During the summer trip to the United States, he elaborated on how the general mood had been improved. "Well it's the little things", said Staunton, "The camaraderie, whether it be a quiz, a singsong, you name it. A keep ball session. The yellow jersey. Different things. They just add to it, and they've all grown to like it."

The spin was that the dressing room is now a happy place, where good vibrations are the order of the day. Kerr's dying embers were characterised by a flaccid, passionless display against Switzerland. Aside from the late flurry of activity, Wednesday's performance was equally devoid of this spirit and togetherness that was supposed to pull us through. It was eerily similar to that miserable night in Lansdowne against the Swiss.

And that's why the myth that everything is rosy in the Irish camp needs to be extinguished. For it is patently not the case. No pre-match huddle can disguise it. You don't have to scratch too far beneath the surface for a clear example of this, although Stephen Ireland is obviously an exceptional case. Beneath all the speculation and innuendo, numerous sources have confirmed that the Manchester City player was deeply unhappy in the Irish set-up prior to what could be his last game for some time in the green shirt -- the game against Slovakia.

He didn't appreciate the banter, most of which centred around suspicious developments regarding his hair. Even more alarmingly, he is understood to have approached senior players looking for a bit of help and was told that he was being too precious.

There are plenty more players with reason to be unsatisfied with their current lot -- those who have been victims of Staunton's ludicrous selection policy.

Somehow, within every squad, there appears to be thirteen or fourteen players named who are in genuine starting contention, a further seven or eight brought along to make up the numbers, and a couple in exile who come straight into the starting fold once summoned, thus making their initial absence inexplicable. You could forgive them for treading carefully on the red carpet in case it is laced with nails.

Exclusion

What must Liam Miller make of his exclusion from the initial selection for this double header when he was the man Staunton sent for in an emergency at half time on Wednesday night? What were the likes of Jonathan Douglas and Alan O'Brien, unused completely in those two games, doing there in the first place?

Rather than blooding young players methodically, Staunton has merely succeeding in throwing them to the lions before realising his error. Joey O'Brien was quickly sacrificed to make room for Miller on Wednesday. Andy Keogh was withdrawn to a polite reception.

He had endured two extremely ineffective games in an unfamiliar role. Practically being used as a convenient excuse. More worrying, however, are persistent whispers that some of the newer brigade and the stalwarts have not quite clicked. What we have now is a far more national team than we have had at any stage in recent memory but also a squad from a variety of backgrounds.

Not all of them have come through the hard grind of apprenticeship in English football, spending their lives in a sheltered environment. Instead, we have a more articulate breed, like Kevin Doyle, like Shane Long, like Stephen Hunt who are from different stock. Overnight sensations, if you will, but far more inclined to take responsibility for their mistakes. There's less of the spoofing.

Late on Wednesday night, Doyle admitted that aiming for third place in the group was not a task that anyone could get excited about. After another debacle against Cyprus, it was the least of their concerns. There's a bigger picture.

And this is where the issue of leadership comes to play, the whole root of the fallacy that this current Irish group are wholly united under one umbrella. The problem is that the manager is effectively still one of the lads.

Demeanour

All you have to do is watch the demeanour of Staunton and Keane at their frequently embarrassing pre-match press conferences. Watch as they sit side by side, with their arms folded, defensively poised. Sniggering at their own jokes, or the struggles of interpreters and questions from foreign sounding journalists. Not like manager and captain but as colleagues, as team-mates.

Like they once were. Add to the mix all the hangers on, like Byrne, with his cheerleading and feverish hugging after every game, and what we essentially have is a clique with the gaffer at the centre of it.

They are trying to recreate an atmosphere of days gone by, something that only those involved at the time can understand. It has failed miserably.

Of course, not everyone was too enamoured back in the good old days either.

There was another Keane that didn't really get it. A chap called Roy, you might have heard of him. He wasn't one for the sing-songs and neither, it seems, are quite a few of the current breed.

Not when so many are singing a different tune.

- Daniel McDonnell