In last Friday’s Guardian letters page one particular letter referred to the previous day’s edition of the paper, the sports pages of which had been dominated by England’s laughable (in every sense) draw with Macedonia. Wales’ astonishing 2-1 win over Italy was relegated to three columns of type near the bottom.

“I’m neither Welsh nor patriotic,” said the letter, “but what must Wales do to lead the back page?”

Win the next World Cup, probably. Or at least the 2004 European Championships, a tournament in which the Welsh are looking increasingly likely to be participating.

The BBC footage of their win over the Italians confirmed a shudder-inducing yet undeniable truth: that Wales, after what seems like centuries of not-so-glorious failure, are now better at football than the Republic. Mark Hughes’ team may even be a better side than England, though this would not amount to much of a boast at present.

Since the spring, Germany, Italy and Finland have all been seen off. There were also two commendable draws in high-profile friendlies with the Czechs and Argentina, to add to the points picked up in Kiev, Warsaw and Oslo during the 2002 World Cup qualifiers

What’s doubly amazing about the current Welsh renaissance is that Hughes has achieved it with a squad of players who are, in many cases, no better than mediocre. You wouldn’t normally think of Robbie Savage as being able for the demands of international football, but there he was last Wednesday night, bullying and hustling Tommasi and Di Biagio out of their cultured stride, and looking like anything but the lower-level Premiership dray horse that he is.

Craig Bellamy, another narky little individual who often runs around as though lobotomised shortly before kick-off, was similarly excellent against the Italians.

Wales’ current ebullience represents some turnaround from what their long-suffering supporters have had to put up with since time immemorial. For every Ian Rush, Neville Southall, Kevin Ratcliffe or Hughes himself, there was a Kenny Jackett, a Neil Slatter, an Alan Curtis, a Mark Aizlewood... names from your nightmares, if you happen to come from the Principality.

Things got markedly worse in the 1990s, to the extent that the Welsh were reduced to picking Vinnie Jones, who’d come fresh off the ferry from Dun Laoghaire, having failed to unearth a long-dead Irish grandparent, and with some time to kill before heading off to film his next Guy Ritchie-directed turkey.

Meanwhile, Ryan Giggs all but retired from the national team during those wilderness years, failing to turn up for a single international friendly for nine seasons.

Still only 28, Giggs is now the elder statesman of this team. His mantle as the dashing young buck of Welsh football has been donned by Tottenham’s Simon Davies, scorer of a brilliant opening goal against Italy.

A galloping right-winger, Davies has a haircut very like the one that Giggs had when he first broke into the United team in 1991. He’s not in that league yet, talent-wise, but seeing as he’s one of the few eyecatching players in the Spurs squad, he can hardly fail to stand out at club level.

Whatever happens, though, Irish fans should now all be rooting for our fellow Celts. After all, when the finals are on in 18 months’ time, we’ll need somebody to cheer for – and let’s face it, the way things are going, the only green jerseys on show in Portugal will be the ones worn by the photographers behind the goals.