Heard the one about the Irish clichés?

Begorrah. The Craic. Pints of the black stuff. Emerald Isle. Labourers. Farce. Father Ted. Shambles. Banana republic. Mismanagement. Blarney.

All these words and phrases appeared in print last week as the Roy Keane story unfolded and the Irish became the laughing stock of the world. Keane, the Ireland football captain, had had a row with his manager Mick McCarthy. He was sent home from the World Cup, apparently after calling his boss a wanker.

Then, after Irish public opinion swung behind Keane, the suits of the Football Association of Ireland went behind McCarthy's back and unsuccessfully tried to get Ireland's greatest player to apologise so he could return to Japan. As the arguments raged, the Irish lined up along generational lines. New Ireland squared up to Old Ireland and demanded Keane be allowed back. Old Ireland insisted he'd broken the rules and been rude to the manager. Nobody is bigger than the team was Old Ireland's line.

New Ireland, the young, successful, face of the country's recent boom years, admires Keane's commitment, talent and pursuit of high standards. Why go to the World Cup just to get pissed and have a laugh? Why not try and win? Keane wanted to. The English have dreams, why not us?

This is the Ireland I know through friends and family at home who hold down challenging careers in one of the toughest workplaces in Europe. There is a generation mirroring Keane's drive and attitude, transforming a country that has the fastest growing economy in Europe.

When I left Cork in 1991, I was 18 and Ireland was an economic basket case. Roy Keane lived a few miles away from my parents' house. He was 20 and getting noticed by English talent scouts. Like many other young people, we couldn't get out fast enough.

Now Ireland has an unemployment rate of less than 3.9 per cent and GDP growth greater than the UK's. There's no denying there has been a darker side to the turnaround. Ireland is undoubtedly a harsher place; immigration has spawned racial problems and crime is reaching new peaks.

The crumbling of the old order has claimed many victims. The once dominant Catholic church is diminished after a tidal wave of paedophile scandals which they spent years covering up. Another Irish institution will also have to change: the bigotry of the Gaelic Athletic Association dictates that soccer and rugby still cannot be played at GAA grounds: officials consider them 'foreign' sports.

Old Ireland has hated the changing of the guard and detests people like Roy Keane. He wanted the best and the FAI resented it, unable to undertstand the concept of excellence. When the former captain complained about the training facilities and lack of preparation for the World Cup, Keane was slapped down. True, he could have handled things better. If it is true he abused McCarthy for his Englishness, he should be ashamed.

In Britain, little or nothing is known about New Ireland. There seems to a reluctance in the media to admit it even exists. To many, horses still run down main streets and feckless natives still drink themselves into a blind stupor every day. Some people think Father Ted is real and that Guinness comes out of our taps.

It's hard to know who to be more angry with - the people who stereotype the Irish or the country's own marketing people who allow this image to flourish. What they don't tell rich Americans is that many Irish towns and villages are not picture-postcard - they're stuffed full of drab buildings and homes that defy sane planning laws.

Last week, the familiar clichés rolled out: hard-drinking players, Mickey Mouse amateurism and the usual in-pub interviews with red-faced drinkers. One piece stood out for its sheer spite. Leo McKinstry wrote in the Daily Mail of how most people in 'Eire' (which ceased to exist in 1949 when it became the Republic of Ireland) would simply shrug off the saga and say: 'Ach don't work yourself up, sure it'll be fine, get another pint inside you... that's the Irish outlook.'

Television was just as lazy. BBC TV News, which employs Dubliner Orla Guerin and Limerickman Fergal Keane, opened a story with a predictable shot of a 'pint of the black stuff' being pulled in a Dublin bar. The Irish, smiled the reporter, were 'drowning their sorrows'.

In a quick and unscientific test, I scrolled through last week's newspapers and looked at the hackneyed Keane coverage. It was Paddywhackery gone mad. All of the Irish people were interviewed in pubs. All were low-skilled workers or unemployed. For the majority of Irish people with drive, energy and ambition - teachers, designers, doctors, high-flyers with firms such as Motorola, Intel or Microsoft - it was depressing stuff.

But New Ireland is here to stay and even if Keane is not with the team in Japan, the hopes of Irish people everywhere will be. One editorial seemed to sum up the mood of the nation last week when it urged: 'Fight, Ireland, fight.'

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