Parrott scores twice and Ronaldo sent off as Ireland secure astonishing win over Portugal

13 Nov 2025, 21:48 by Gavin Cooney · The42

Gavin Cooney reports from the Aviva Stadium

Republic of Ireland 2

Portugal 0

THIS WAS ANOTHER crackling night to remind us that Irish football is and forever will be a fact beyond comprehension.

Just. . . how?

How can a team that lost meekly away to Armenia and toiled miserably at home to the same sweep aside Portugal in such sinewy, unflinching fashion?

How can they win by two goals and feel hard done by the scoreline?

How can Troy Parrott step out of the Eredivisie and deliver one of the finest individual performances in the history of this national team?

And how can the great Cristiano Ronaldo, conqueror of all and sundry for more than two decades find Ireland – Ireland! – to be his kryptonite?

Though this was a night for heads to spin rather than be scratched. Ireland grabbed Portugal by the lapels, pinnned them to the ground, pressed their boot on their jaw and then dusted themselves off as they walked calmly away, headed for Budapest.

Victory there on Sunday will guarantee Ireland a World Cup play-off. Don’t dare go forecasting the game, because tonight was a delirious reminder that anything can happen.

Though it began with the predictable Ronaldo fascination.

Ronaldo remains his own attraction, and Irish and Portuguese fans alike lined the streets outside the stadium to greet the team buses. This was hoards of people flocking to catch a glimpse of the viral phenomenon; this was Ronaldo as a modern edition of the moving statues that once brought thousands of Irish people to Ballinspittle.

Those were journeys of faith alone and so, truly was this. Ireland’s grasp of their own fate was made more tenuous in the hour before kick-off, with Hungary’s win in Armenia meaning they had to avoid defeat here if they were to have any hope going to Budapest. A draw would mean needing to win by two goals in Budapest: the harsh prize for beating Portugal would merely be the need to beat Hungary by any scoreline.

Ronaldo limbered up quickly and thus the early-evening augurs were poor, as he chalked down three shots within the first 10 minutes: a tame backheel at Kelleher; a skied effort from a pull-back; and the usual laborious free-kick into the Irish wall. Nonetheless, allowing Ronaldo shoot with this volume is usually a bad equation. Ireland, though, found their feet.

Troy Parrott led the line in Evan Ferguson’s absence and was flanked closely by Chiedozie Ogbene and Finn Azaz, and, true to their manager’s words, Ireland retained their solidity from Lisbon but bolted on a far more effective attacking plan. Ogbene looked rejuvenated from weeks of regular action for Sheffield United, and Ireland signalled intent when Kelleher sliced a gorgeous goal-kick in behind the Portuguese defence for Azaz, whose square pass for the charging Ogbene was cut out.

The duo, however, revolved around Parrott.

As soon the whole first-half would.

Soon after, Parrott chased down the Portuguese goalkeeper Diogo Costa and intercepted his pass, at which point he pounced on possession and stumbled under contact from the ‘keeper. He might have gone down to force the VAR to make a call on a penalty, but instead stayed on his feet. No matter. Josh Cullen peeled a delightful corner to the back post for Liam Scales, whose square header was nodded in by Parrott almost on the goal line.

Parrott raced to the corner and flicked his ear, asking for the crowd to up the ante. They duly did so and the ground shook to those raucous roars to which it has been too long unaccustomed.

Ireland flew into challenges and flung themselves into every duel: at one point Collins got creative on the half-way line and hammered a bicycle kick into Cristiano Ronaldo’s chest and away to safety. It was a perfect distillation of Ireland’s performance, melding wild effort with craft.

And the game broke in certain ways for Ireland too. When Dara O’Shea thwacked away a clearance in Ireland’s left-back zone it morphed into the kind of laser-guided pass of which Toni Kroos would be proud. Ogbene sped away into the box, checked inside, and rolled the ball against the far post.

Ireland for the first time then felt under siege, as Kelleher triggered a mad, pinball scramble by clawing away Vitinha’s scissor kick, while Diogo Dalot and Joao Felix took turns to blaze volleys over the crossbar.

Though it turned out it was Portugal who needed half-time. The clock was ticking to the sole minute of added time when Parrott turned the key and unlocked the heady state of bliss with which this ground has hardly been acquainted in a decade.

Again Ireland pounced on possession and played their first pass forward for Parrott, who did as Ogbene had earlier in checking inside from the top of the box but, unlike Ogbene, this time he rifled his shot inside the near post. It was a moment of genius that caught Costa unawares: the goalkeeper was left grasping at the air on which the Irish players now felt they were walking upon.

Parrott roared a primal scream into the sky as Ogbene found himself sparked out on the ground, around which sparked a melee. But nothing could divert the crowd from their mad fervour.

Ireland squatted low in their own penalty area after half-time, but were largely unworried bar one Vitinha scuff at the back-post. Portugal meanwhile had to concentrate on navigating the Aviva’s bewitched 52nd minute: the precise time at which Hungary and Armenia had a man sent off here in each of Ireland’s previous two home games.

Portugal survived it, but only because Ronaldo once again defied time.

Though this time he only did it for seven minutes. When yet another Portuguese cross evaded Ronaldo, he swung an elbow into Dara O’Shea’s ribs, leaving O’Shea wheezing on the ground. Ronaldo was booked, he gestured for crying eyes to O’Shea and the crowd lost themselves in the glorious troll of the moment, right up until the big screen splashed red with news of a VAR check

The referee, Glenn Nyberg, scurried to the monitor. Seamus Coleman jabbed at his temples and sent team-mates away from Ronaldo.

Ronaldo trundled about on the spot, the limelight for once not his friend.

Nyberg spun around, walked back onto the pitch and gestured his yellow card into history.

Out came the red, Ronaldo stood and sarcastically applauded the Irish fans, and he then loped off the pitch and toward Hallgrimsson, snapping his fingers off his thumb in reference to Hallgrimsson’s media comments yesterday, urging the referee not to fall under the sway of the Ronaldo celebrity.

Ronaldo sarcastically gestures to the Irish fans after he is sent off. Ryan Byrne / INPHORyan Byrne / INPHO / INPHO

Eventually Ronaldo left the stage, taking his tally against Ireland to zero goals, another missed penalty, and a red card. It is a measure of our sheer insanity of a football nation that the only country on earth seemingly destined to madden the great Cristiano Ronaldo is Ireland.

Ireland were comfortable for long swathes from then on, and were bizarrely denied a penalty when Semedo handled in his own box. Parrott was meanwhile withdrawn on the hour mark, protected for Budapest. He soaked in a richly deserved ovation and his farewell applause was altogether more earnest than that of the other number seven who had left proceedings a few minutes earlier.

Kelleher did have time for his usual heroics, springing low to claw away Goncalo Ramos’ effort, while seven added, fretful minutes were the price to pay for Ronaldo’s farewell theatre.