What Thierry Henry did was instinctive. Cynically instinctive, without question, but the impulse of a goalscorer approaching a moment of desperation. You could argue that Diego Maradona’s infamous deed was worse because the fate of the 1986 match had yet to become finely balanced — in which case Robbie Keane would also have to be placed in front of Henry in football’s hall of shame.

Robbie Keane? Surely he was the wronged hero of Wednesday night at the Stade de France, a leading voice in the chorus against Henry, the referee and assistants, Uefa, because its president, Michel Platini, is French, Fifa because its favourite kit manufacturer supplies France. Mr Keane was Mr Clean. He made no mention of having been penalised in the first half for the same offence as Henry. It was not the time for balanced debate.

Nor is it now. With every hour since Henry’s left hand scooped the ball into a position from which he could provide France’s aggregate winner, the Parisian three times voted Footballer of the Year by the English press has seemed to become more of a villain. According to observers, all his thrilling runs and spectacular goals will now fade from the memory, to be replaced by a grotesque image of his cheating.

Fortunately, the world has not become quite that silly. You could be forgiven for thinking otherwise, I concede, when you read that Ireland’s Prime Minister, Brian Cowen, had followed up a promise to discuss this monstrous infringement of human rights with France’s President during a break in the EU summit — Nicolas Sarkozy, while expressing sympathy, said it was a matter for the football authorities — but mature reflection tends to prevail.

When we think of Maradona now, only the small-minded or those without affection for football see just the “Hand of God”. We also remember his slaloms through defences, his extraordinary courage in the face of the brutal tackling allowed before Fifa began to civilise the game in 1990. We remember his eviction from the 1994 tournament after a drugs test. We look at him now and see a pitifully struggling coach rather than a cheat.

The career of Zinédine Zidane can also be viewed in perspective, even though it ended in ignominy as he was sent off towards the end of the World Cup final only 3½ years ago for head-butting an opponent.

At the time I was sad, fearing that an idol had disfigured his image, and I felt likewise upon digesting the accounts of the Henry episode. Some commentators, including our own Tony Cascarino, even called for the Barcelona forward to be banned from the group stage of the World Cup, the implication being that otherwise the tournament would be tainted.

I could not help but wonder if the articles would have run along the same lines had it been Keane who profited from his offence and Henry who had been caught. Would the FA of Ireland have offered to play the match again?

If Ireland had won — and it tends to be overlooked that never in the three hours and 14 minutes of play-off football that preceded Henry’s offence had they led France — would they have accepted the necessity to make an example of Squeaky Keane by leaving him off the plane to South Africa?

No doubt Messrs Cowen and Sarkozy can explore these questions once the trivia of other issues facing the EU have been cleared. In the meantime, two serious points should be made.

The first is that I make no attempt to excuse the handling offence, commonplace though it may have been, or Henry’s failure to own up to it at the time, which was a missed opportunity to elevate football over just about any other sporting activity on Earth.

Henry had maybe 30 seconds in which to make himself a saint. He delayed and, as a well-brought-up young man of considerable intelligence, will regret it for the rest of his life. But we all have regrets. Even journalists are induced to do regrettable things by the morally warping pressures of the job. Henry’s post-match sigh should have resonated with some of his critics.

The other reflection is on the conspiracy theories advanced on Ireland’s behalf, most of them depicting a little nation being cheated by football authorities desperate that France should qualify; Keane even painted a picture of Sepp Blatter, the Fifa president, and Platini texting each other on the final whistle, as if that would have been sinister.

Football is simply not bent in that way, and for the Irish to react to a defeat, however unlucky, by falsely accusing it is to make a bad situation worse and compound the bad example set to children. No one should be proud of this week. Henry should not hang his head alone.