Queueing at the airport in T-shirt and shorts, green sombrero hanging down his back, he could have been any of the 5,500 fans on the way home from following their national team.

Everywhere you looked was a sea of green. Northern Ireland was officially on tour in Gran Canaria - and intent on eking out every last drop of enjoyment from the break.

The local bars had certainly been drained to their last drop as cash tills rung merrily at a time of year usually devoid of tourists.

The line of revellers heading for flights back to Belfast - or, in our case, Manchester - snaked from one end of the departure lounge to the other.

But the mood, while heavily hung over, was chipper. Everyone patiently waited their turn to cram into the low-budget flights without any hint of a moan.

In the middle of this throng stood the guy with the hat and two of his mates, dressed identically except for the headgear.

It was only when my brother-in-law snapped out of his self-imposed stupor and pointed out the official Northern Ireland logos on their shirts, that we realised these three were actually players.

Chris Brunt, Jonny Evans and Burnley's sombrero-wearing Kyle Lafferty had spent the previous night in energetic pursuit of the likes of Cesc Fabregas and David Villa in the Spanish side.

They had been unsuccessful - it was as crushing a 1-0 win from Spain as you will ever see - but nobody around us was complaining. There were no recriminations; no pointing fingers; just the odd ticket thrust their way for a signature or snapshot for the camera phone.

The players shuffled through customs with the rest of us; squashed into a plane that was choc-a-bloc and no doubt grumbled like the next man about the lack of leg room for anyone above 5ft 2in tall.

So what makes this tale remarkable in any way? Surely these are three ordinary human beings, who just happen to play football for a living and are travelling in the same manner as 99 per cent of the population.

But then just imagine this was England instead. Instead of Brunt, Evans and Lafferty - three faces that would only be picked out in an identity parade by the keen supporter - could you picture, say, Lampard, Terry and Cole in that scenario?

I think there's more chance of Steve McClaren being invited back as guest of honour for the next Wembley game.

It may be a fatuous argument given the celebrity of the Three Lions contingent compared with their Home Nations rivals, but for those whose views of footballers are coloured by flicking through the fashion pages of the national papers, it was a fascinating eye-opener.

I got home on Friday to see pictures on Sky Sports News of David Beckham waving to a crowd of screaming Asian schoolgirls as he launched a new aftershave or something.

Fresh from Wembley defeat, he had hopped on a private jet and headed for the Far East; nice work if you can get it.

No such mod-cons for the Northern Ireland players at Las Palmas airport. The only special dispensation I could see was a letter from their FA to confirm the flight bill had been paid.

There was no arrogant demand for preferential treatment; no collaring the cabin crew to tell them "do you know who I am?"; and no hassle from the everyday punters who had shelled out plenty of money to travel to watch them in action.

Those fans will not be going to Switzerland or Austria next summer; more's the pity. Like England and the rest of Britain, Northern Ireland will be watching Euro 2008 on the TV.

But at least they bowed out with heads held high, not tails wedged between legs. I take my hat off to them.

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