by Roy Keane
THE
SECOND
HALF
ROY
KEANE
with
RODDY DOYLE
Weidenfeld & Nicolson
LONDON
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
List of Illustrations
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Plate Section
Copyright
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
The tackle on Håland in a match against Manchester City. Was I going around for years thinking, ‘I’m going to get him, I’m going to get him’? No. 21 April 2001. (Mirrorpix)
Man United playing against Sporting Lisbon. I saw how good Ronaldo was that day. 6 August 2003. (VI/PA)
I was in the dressing room when Ferguson kicked the boot. Beckham had to have stitches. (Martin Rickettt/PA Archive)
Alex Ferguson consoling me after I came off injured. Charlton Athletic v. Manchester United, 13 September 2003. (Andrew Cowie/Colorsport)
Against Leicester, 27 September 2003. I didn’t score as many goals as I used to. My role in the team was changing. (Adrian Dennis/AFP/Getty)
With Ferguson after winning the FA Cup match between United and Arsenal at Villa Park, 3 April 2004. (John Peters/Manchester United/Getty)
Peter Schmeichel. He would come out shouting at players, and I felt sometimes that he was playing up to the crowd. (Mark Thompson/Allsport/Getty)
Playing for United against Rangers in the Champions League – 22 October 2003. It was brilliant. (Alex Livesey/Getty)
Diego Forlán playing for United. I remember when Diego Forlán came in, and it wasn’t quite happening for him. If a player tried – and Diego did – we’d drag him with us; we’d try and help him. (Manchester United/Getty)
Against Millwall, 22 May 2004. It was the only time I’ve played in a Cup Final that I knew we were going to win. (John Peters/Manchester United/Getty)
We wore replicas of Jimmy Davis’s top when we were going up to collect the trophy and our medals. (Action/Darren Walsh)
Playing again for Ireland, against Romania – 27 May 2004. It was good to be back. (Reuters/Paul McErlane)
Rooney joined Man United in August 2004. When he walked into the dressing room, it lifted everybody. (John Peters/Manchester United/Getty)
I went on a new diet. Typical me, I went too far. I missed the game against Arsenal. I was well enough to go on as sub in the next league game, against Portsmouth – 30 October 2004. (Reuters/Kieran Doherty/ND Reyters/Action)
Arsenal v. Man United, 1 February 2005. The tunnel incident with Patrick Vieira was all part of the TV drama. I’d lost it; but I wasn’t zoning out. (Rex/Graham Chadwick/Daily Mail)
Southampton were relegated after we beat them 2–1 on 15 May 2005. There was a bit of tension after the game, a few Southampton fans hanging around. It seemed it was all right for them to abuse me but I wasn’t allowed to say anything back. (Paul Ellis/AP/PA)
Game against Liverpool, 18 September 2005. Gerrard’s tackle resulted in my broken foot. (John Peters/Manchester United/Getty)
Training with Carlos Queiroz, 2005. (John Peters/Manchester United/Getty)
Leaving Man United, November 2005. (Chris Coleman/Manchester United/Getty)
Signing for Celtic, 15 December 2005. (Ian Stewart/AFP/Getty)
First Old Firm match with Celtic, 12 February 2006. It lived up to all my expectations. (Jeff J. Mitchell/Getty)
Testimonial between United and Celtic at Old Trafford, 9 May 2006. (Laurence Griffiths/Getty)
I swapped sides at half-time. It was nice to be back. (Andrew Yates/AFP/Getty)
With Tony Loughlan at Sunderland v. West Brom, 28 August 2006. (Matthew Lewis/Getty)
Sunderland training. (Action/Lee Smith)
First match in charge of Sunderland, away to Derby, 9 September 2006. (Warren Little/Getty)
Last-minute equaliser by Dave Connolly for Sunderland against Burnley, 16 December 2006. A big turning point for us. (Owen Humphreys/PA Archive/PA)
Dwight Yorke playing for Sunderland, 1 January 2007. He had the penthouse in Sydney Harbour, the Lamborghini, all the women. I asked him, ‘D’you fancy coming back to Sunderland?’ (Clive Mason/Getty)
Jonny Evans playing for Sunderland, 24 February 2007. Jonny was unbelievable for us. (Action/Lee Smith)
Celebrating Sunderland win at Luton, 6 May 2007. (Clive Rose/Getty)
A derby with Newcastle, 10 November 2007. My first and it was brilliant. The atmosphere, the relief we weren’t beaten. Danny Higginbotham got us the first goal. (Owen Humphreys/PA Archive/PA)
Shaking hands with Alex Ferguson at the Sunderland v. United match on 26 December 2007. I got a good reception from the United fans. (Action/Lee Smith)
Fàbregas scored an injury-time equaliser for Arsenal, 4 October 2008. It was a pivotal moment in my career. (Nigel Roddis/Action/Reuters)
Win for Sunderland against Newcastle, 25 October 2008. I think it was my happiest day at Sunderland. (Nigel French/EMPICS Sport)
Djibril Cissé shaking my hand after scoring against Blackburn, 15 November 2008. (Matthew Lewis/Getty)
Appointed Ipswich manager, 22 April 2009. Nine times out of ten, when a manager is out of work, he’ll agree terms. (Jamie McDonald/Getty)
I was down there in the blue training kit and I was looking at it, going ‘Fuckin’ hell’. (Jeremy Durkin/Rex)
Ipswich squad on 7th Parachute Regiment training, July 2009. I don’t think it created the bond or the spirit I was hoping it would. (Ipswich Town FC)
Ipswich against Nottingham Forest, 3 January 2011. That was me out the door – my last game in charge. (Jamie Mcdonald/Getty)
In the studio with Adrian Chiles (right) and Lee Dixon (left). ITV took a chance, throwing me in. (ITV/Rex)
I got dog’s abuse from some of the City fans. ‘Do I need this?’ Then Lee Dixon would be getting loads of stick from the United fans and I’d say, ‘Ah, you have to deal with it.’ (Carl Recine Livepic/Action)
Playing in the UNICEF charity match at Old Trafford in 2012. (Dave J. Hogan/Getty)
Watching my first game as assistant manager of Ireland with Martin O’Neill – a friendly against Latvia, 15 November 2013. I played the cool character but I had a real buzz about myself. (Ian Walton/Getty)
Ireland v. Turkey match, 25 May 2014. We’ll get it right, lads. (Jed Leicester Livepic/Action)
At a Villa training session with Paul Lambert, after being appointed assistant manager, July 2014. I liked the prospect of working with him. (Jed Leicester Livepic/Action)
When you’re physically in trouble, it plays on your mind. You don’t get to a ball, and you tell yourself that you would have got it ten years ago, even though you mightn’t have. There’s a physical pain that you can put up with every day – but it’s what it does to your head. I still look back and wonder if I could have played for another year or two.
‘Did I make the right decision?’
My wife reminds me, ‘Roy, do you not remember? You couldn’t even get out of your car.’
I could, but it would be torture. And getting out of bed. But I’d forget, because I loved the game so much. The carrot was always in front of me. I wanted to play for another year, and earn for another year.
ONE
He told me how much he admired me. Like all the top lawyers, he was dead polite. I thought, ‘He’s nice, he’ll go easy on me.’
The popular version of the story is that I injured myself – I tore my anterior cruciate – when I
went in for a tackle on Alfie Håland. Håland told me to get up and stop faking. So the next time I saw him, I did him. And I ended his career.
But that wasn’t what happened.
My book, Keane, came out in September 2002, just a few months after the World Cup and Saipan, and extracts from it were serialised in the News of the World. One of the extracts contained this passage from the book:
Another crap performance. They’re up for it. We’re not. City could have been ahead when Teddy stroked the penalty home with twenty minutes to go. Howey equalized five minutes from the end. I’d waited almost 180 minutes for Alfie, three years if you looked at it another way. Now he had the ball on the far touchline. Alfie was taking the piss. I’d waited long enough. I fucking hit him hard. The ball was there (I think). Take that, you cunt. And don’t ever stand over me again sneering about fake injuries. And tell your pal Wetherall there’s some for him as well. I didn’t wait for Mr Elleray to show the card. I turned and walked to the dressing room.
That produced the headlines – it was great publicity. It was perfect in some ways, and I’m sure the publishers, Penguin, weren’t too upset, or the booksellers. I understand that when you publish a book you’re selling something; you’re selling part of yourself. But I didn’t anticipate the volume of the coverage. It was unbelievable; it was like I’d killed somebody. It was a nightmare at the time.
The book had been planned – the deadline and publication date – a year before. The idea was that it would finish after I’d played in the World Cup. It was supposed to be an upbeat book, on the back of qualification from a tough group and a good campaign in Japan. I think it was quite an upbeat book, but I didn’t play in the World Cup, and I couldn’t leave my house with my poor dog without being followed. That had gone on for a month or two, and it was just beginning to settle down. But now, the Håland tackle was the latest scandal. The media were all over it; they were running the show, demanding action. And, to be fair, I’d given them something to chew on.
The pressure was on the FA to do something about it, and they did. They charged me with bringing the game into disrepute, by committing a premeditated assault on Håland, and by profiting from my description of the tackle. The charges hurt me, particularly the second one – the idea that I’d almost bragged about deliberately injuring a player, in the hope of selling some extra books.
It was physically tiring. It was affecting my sleep, and my appetite. I was still preparing for games, but I was having problems with my hip. And it was emotionally tiring, too, coming so soon after Saipan. My family, the ones closest to me, suffered. I was a footballer, but I was meeting lawyers.
The hearing took place in Bolton, at the Reebok. It wasn’t a court but it felt like a court. I think that was wrong. It was a footballing matter but it wasn’t being treated like a footballing matter. It was an FA charge, but I was travelling from Manchester in a car with a lawyer and a QC. That didn’t feel right. It was quiet in the car; I didn’t really know them. There was no positive energy, no ‘We’ll fight this’; it was all about damage limitation. It was a day at the office for them but it was a lot more than that for me. I knew I was going to lose. But I also knew, when I went home that night, it would be over.
Trying to get into the Reebok that day – you’d have thought I was up for murder.
I wish now I’d made my own way to the Reebok – ‘Listen, I’ll meet you there.’ Actually, I wish I hadn’t had a lawyer. I wish I’d gone in and just taken the punishment. The FA charged, and the FA delivered the verdict. Judge and jury. The pressure was on from the media. ‘They’ve got to do what’s right for the game.’ I’d been in situations before where I’d been cross-examined, and I’d felt that I’d been listened to. This time, almost immediately, I felt – ‘Just give me the fine.’ I never felt that I was getting my point across.
The FA had a murder lawyer. A big shot up from London. Jim Sturman. He was absolutely brilliant; he had me on toast. Jesus – for a tackle. He was a big Spurs fan, he told me. In the toilets, before the hearing. I was at the urinal beside him. We were talking, as two men in a toilet do.
He said, ‘I think you are a top player.’
He told me how much he admired me. Like all the top lawyers, he was dead polite.
I thought, ‘He’s nice, he’ll go easy on me.’
He ripped me to pieces – the fucker. It was his job, to rip me to pieces. I kept thinking, ‘I wish he was on my side.’
I was cross-examined for about an hour. He took out the book; he kept showing it to me.
‘This is you on the cover. This is your book, isn’t it?’
I said, ‘Yeah.’
‘This is your book, isn’t it?’
And I went, ‘Yeah.’
‘Do you stand by everything you said in the book?’
‘Yeah.’
‘So, whatever you said in this book—’
‘Yeah, but it was ghost-written.’
‘This is your book.’
He held it in front of me.
‘It’s supposed to be an honest book. You said these words.’
‘I didn’t mean it that way – I didn’t say it that way. I’m not sure I said all those words. I had a ghost writer.’
They were genuine arguments but I knew I was going to lose the fight. But you still have to fight. It’s like being in a boxing ring. You might be losing, but what are you going to do? You can’t drop your hands. You have to keep fighting.
He was very good. I remember thinking, ‘You fucker.’
His job was to present a picture of me as a thug, a head case, a man who goes out and injures his fellow professionals. And he did it – he succeeded.
The video helped.
‘Can we see the tackle?’
They had the tackle, in slow motion – my Jesus. You look at anything in slow motion, and it looks worse. Even blowing your nose looks dreadful in slow motion. The tackle in slow motion, from every angle – it looked bleak. I felt like saying, ‘Stop the fuckin’ video. Give me the fine and let’s move on.’
Jim Sturman had an easy day. I think he enjoyed it, as a Tottenham fan. The fucker.
I remember thinking, ‘I’m fucked here.’
I sat down.
It was Eamon Dunphy’s turn. Eamon was my ghost writer, and had come across from Ireland for the hearing, to be a witness. He’d already said that he’d used his own words to describe the tackle. Before we went in, I’d been going to say to him, ‘Eamon, if they ask you if you think I intentionally went to injure Håland, say no.’
But I decided not to; I wouldn’t embarrass him by saying something as simple as that.
Sturman asked him, ‘Mister Dunphy, do you think Mister Keane intentionally went to injure his fellow professional, Mister Håland?’
And Eamon’s three words back to Sturman were ‘Without a doubt.’
That was the case, my defence, out the window. Eamon had written the book; he was my witness. I think Eamon felt that he was on trial, and that it was almost a criminal court. He wanted to distance himself from it, and I could see his point of view. He’d delivered the book; he’d done his job. I’d approved it. I was on my own; it was my book, my name on it. But I think he might have thought that his account in the book was on trial; he just wanted to get it over with and get out of there. He was rushing for his flight back to Dublin.
I looked at him and thought, ‘I’m definitely fucked now.’
He didn’t go, ‘I think so’, or ‘Maybe’, even ‘Probably’, or ‘I can’t honestly give an answer to that.’
‘Without a doubt’ was what he said.
As the ghost writer, he was supposed to have been, I suppose, in my mind, as he wrote the book. I’m not blaming Eamon – at all. But he didn’t help.
‘Without a doubt.’
I could tell from Jim Sturman’s expression, he was thinking, ‘Nice one.’
It was action; it was football. It was dog eat dog. I’ve kicked lots of players, and I know the
difference between hurting somebody and injuring somebody. I didn’t go to injure Håland. When you play sport, you know how to injure somebody. That’s why you see people on the pitch getting upset when they see a certain type of tackle; they know what the intention behind the tackle was. I don’t think any player who played against me and who I’ve had battles with – Patrick Vieira, the Arsenal players, the Chelsea lads – I don’t think any of them would say anything too bad about me. They’d say that I was nasty, and that I liked a battle, but I don’t think any of them would say that I was underhanded. I could be wrong, of course. Maybe hundreds would say, ‘You fuckin’ were.’ I kicked people in tackles, but I never had to stand on the pitch and watch someone I’d tackled going off on a stretcher. I’m not saying that’s an achievement, but they always got up and continued playing.
There was no premeditation. My simple defence was, I’d played against Håland three or four times between the game against Leeds, in 1997, when I injured my cruciate, and the game when I tackled him, in 2001, when he was playing for Manchester City. I’d played against him earlier that season, and he’d had a go at Paul Scholes. If I’d been this madman out for revenge, why would I have waited years for the opportunity to injure him? I mightn’t have got that chance. Players come and go. My whole argument was, I’d played against him.
I’ve watched old games, where Håland is trying it on, booting me. He was an absolute prick to play against. Niggling, sneaky. The incident took place in a match against City. But I’d played against him when he was at Leeds. The rivalry was massive between United and Leeds. Was I going around for years thinking, ‘I’m going to get him, I’m going to get him’?
No.
Was he at the back of my mind?
Of course, he was. Like Rob Lee was, like David Batty was, like Alan Shearer was, like Dennis Wise was, like Patrick Vieira was. All these players were at the back of my mind. ‘If I get a chance, I’m going to fuckin’ hit you.’ Of course I am. That’s the game. I played in central midfield. I wasn’t a little right-back or left-back, who can coast through his career without tackling anybody. Or a tricky winger who never gets injured. I played in the middle of the park.
