What a totally mental few weeks. Between the World Cup and Euro 2016 qualifiers it seemed to be one drama after another. Now - at least until the Bosnia match - it is over. And here we sit in disillusionment. Yet again.
As Colm Tobin perfectly put it on Twitter 'I don't think I've been this disappointed since all the other times we've all been this disappointed.' However I seem to have gone through the stages of grief in seriously accelerated fashion and am already nestled in acceptance.
After this year's All-Ireland hurling final I wrote an article questioning the point of it all. This constant emotional roller coaster where we strive for a promised land that is actually downplayed by many who have already reached it. Yet every time we lose we wallow. Why do we do it to ourselves?
In the wake of that post, a Balls reader called Charlie Shanks got in touch and sent me this poem called 'Ithaca'. Written by Vangelis, recited by Sean Connery. I have listened to it umpteen times since. Today's listen has been most important.
The records will show we lost today but what have we lost? A World Cup semi-final - like the last two Six Nations wins - would quickly be forgotten but the memories of the last few weeks will not.
Whether it be the joy of the win over France, the pride we felt as Paul O'Connell bowed out, the life our fans brought to the tournament or the laughs the squad gave us and each other along the way.
We have not reached Ithaca yet. Our journey is certainly a long one but once we keep your thoughts raised high, as long as a rare excitement
stirs our spirit and your body, the trip will be a rich one.
