by Roy Keane
I’d go to the staff, ‘Let them get on with it. Don’t get involved.’
Winners and losers. Grown men playing like they were kids on the street. There were no draws in street football.
‘We can’t play any more; it’s too dark.’
When I was a kid we’d play till midnight, until there was a result. Even then, we’d go for five more minutes. Never mind blood levels and muscle tears.
I’d be told that it was going on too long.
‘It’s half twelve. We started at ten.’
The sports scientists will tell you it was all wrong, and that everything should be done by the watch. And I understand that, too; I’m interested in sports science. But I’m also old school.
If we didn’t have a midweek game, we’d give them Sunday or Monday off. Tuesday would be hard, a tough session; then Wednesdays would be off. We’d mix it up the odd time. There wouldn’t be that much training at this stage of the season, towards the end, because of the number of games we were playing. It was all about games, and recovery. We kept it simple because we were winning matches.
Southampton, away – a brilliant game. We won 2–1, with a couple of great goals. Grant Leadbitter scored one of them. He was a top player for us. He was a good goalscorer, and very rarely injured. A good local lad; he had a nice way about him. He could go off on a rant in the dressing room, and it was very hard to understand him. It was a standing joke among the staff, when Grant went off on one – ‘Leave him.’ He was a good leader.
I don’t think I ever had a conversation with the players or a member of staff about promotion – but I did have the odd glimpse at my contract to see what the bonus was. We just kept winning, and the League table took care of itself. The table never lies. It was one of my strengths as a player – ‘Just try and win your next match and everything else will fall into place.’ That was always my attitude.
We beat QPR at home, 2–1 again; Dean Whitehead, and another great goal from Grant. I think I praised Nyron Nosworthy after the game because of his attitude. I said it summed up the attitude of the whole team. Nyron was a really good player for us, and a nice lad. I had an incident with him earlier in the season. He was late for training, but he lived about two minutes from the training ground. I called him into my office – and the excuse he gave me? He told the truth.
‘I slept it out.’
I said, ‘Thanks for telling me the truth.’
I didn’t even fine him.
We had three games left.
We went mountain biking in Cumbria. It was great, and a bit mad. I began to wonder if it was a bit too mad. We were on the bikes for six or seven hours. A competition was organised for us – two or three teams. I remember having a go at one of my team because he had a puncture. We were shattered after it – fucked. And we’d a game in a couple of days, against Colchester. We were building up team spirit and camaraderie. It was brilliant.
We went to Colchester and we lost, 3–1. We cycled to Colchester! The players still had sore arses from the biking in Cumbria.
There was a lesson in the result. We’d got back to 1–1, and a draw wouldn’t have been bad. But we were on a run, so I thought, ‘Fuckin’ go for it.’ We just kept going, which had helped us in other games, but not this one. If we’d drawn at Colchester, we could have been promoted in the next game, at home to Burnley, and that would have been brilliant – in front of our fans.
Burnley came to the Stadium of Light on 27 April, a Friday night game. It was our friend Steve Cotterill again. Steve had worked at Sunderland as Howard Wilkinson’s assistant, and his time there hadn’t gone well. So we knew there’d be extra edge to the game. But we won 3–2; Murph, Dave and Carlos scored – another of Carlos’s typical goals.
That was our last home game. We ended up being promoted that weekend but we didn’t know it yet, because the other teams still in contention were playing on Saturday and Sunday. I was walking my dogs on Sunday afternoon when the news came through that Derby slipped up; they’d lost to Crystal Palace. Someone at the club texted me. I was buzzing – I went home and double-checked my contract!
It was great but I would have enjoyed it a lot more if it had happened just after a match, especially at the Stadium of Light. I’d no one to celebrate with. My wife and kids were delighted but they weren’t the staff; they hadn’t worked with me. So it was a bit of an anticlimax, sadly. The texts started coming in – Well done, gaffer. One of the staff texted from Sunderland – We’re all out. But I was in Manchester. And I was glad in a way. I didn’t want to be in a pub all night with my staff. I think the manager should keep a distance.
I had to leave Danny Simpson out of the side for the last game of the season. The players, no doubt, had been celebrating promotion after Derby had lost, and Danny turned up late for one of the training sessions. He pleaded with me to let him play; he was very emotional. But I wouldn’t let him play. The point – the message to the players was ‘There’s no relaxing. I want to beat Luton.’ The season wasn’t over.
We went to Luton on the last day of the season. The challenge now was if we won we might win the League. And we did win, 5–0 – another rocket from Murph; he lashed it in. All the final games of the season were being played at the same time. Birmingham slipped up; they lost at Preston. And that got us to the top.
We were Champions. Promotion had been great, and winning the Championship was the icing on the cake. It had been a brilliant journey for us all.
But they wouldn’t give us the trophy that day, on the pitch. And that pissed me off a bit. They said it was for security reasons, because we weren’t at our own ground. Lifting the trophy in front of the fans – it didn’t matter if it was a replica – would have been great. And the place was bouncing with Sunderland fans. There are great pictures of some of the players, Nyron and Carlos, mixing with the fans, wearing silly hats, hanging off the crossbar.
I went to the dressing room and did my usual thing – played it down a bit. Deep down there was satisfaction. But I was too blasé about it. Everyone was jumping around, singing; there was champagne. I was, like, ‘This is what I’d expect.’ I wish I’d let myself enjoy it a little bit more. But I was always afraid to enjoy success in case I got too carried away. I was keeping myself on my toes. ‘Don’t get too grand.’ But if you can’t enjoy winning, there’s something wrong, isn’t there?
We were given the trophy and medals a couple of nights later, in a hotel. I gave my medal to one of the lads who hadn’t played enough games to qualify; I think it was Márton Fülöp, one of our keepers. During that week before the Luton game I knew the players would be planning a celebration once the last game was over. As an incentive I offered them £5,000 to go and enjoy themselves, if they beat Luton and we won the Championship. That night, during the reception, Yorkie approached and asked if I’d also pay for a coach and a hotel for the players. That pissed me right off. I was giving them five grand, and they’d have been on good bonuses for winning promotion.
I found out that Danny Simpson and Jonny Evans, because they were loan players, weren’t entitled to bonuses. But I made sure they got them. You’ve never seen happier young lads. And I think it helped the following season, when I went to sign Jonny again, on loan.
I was getting a million-pound bonus and then a big pay rise because we were now in the Premiership. The financial rewards were great. But it was more about the town. There was a plan for us to go on an open-top bus through Sunderland. Niall rang me and I said, ‘No, I’d be ashamed of my life.’
I think it’s right to celebrate achievements. But to celebrate promotion a year after we’d been relegated – it was too much. It wasn’t as if we were a small club being promoted for the first time in twenty years.
I look back now and I understand that it would have been more for the supporters, and maybe the players and their families. I hope that my decision not to have the bus wasn’t arrogance, because I’d won things with United and Celtic. Some of the players said, ‘This is the
first medal I’ve ever had.’ Maybe I should have been more open to their point of view. But the open-top bus didn’t appeal to me – most of the players would have been late anyway. And it would have been fuckin’ freezing. I’ve other regrets, but not that one.
There was a meeting of all the medical staff – a debriefing – at the end of the season. And they told me that we were getting a lot of injuries on Tuesdays; the players were training too long. We weren’t performing well, in terms of muscle injuries.
I said, ‘Okay, yeah, I get it, lads. But just to remind you – we have been promoted.’
We’d scored a bucket-load of late goals. And that was why – because of the way we trained. I’d take a few injuries in exchange for those goals. The players ran, and ran, and ran. There’d be an element of my own character in there – you keep going. The crowd helped there, too – credit to the fans.
I remember thinking, ‘The work starts now. We’re up with the big boys.’
I’d be starting my first pre-season at the club. I’d have to go to the consortium for more money. I’d have to get some players in. How would I get good players to come to Sunderland?
The connection with Ireland – the number of people we had coming across to watch us – was amazing. There was myself, Niall, the consortium, the Irish players. I liked working with other Irish people around me. I always liked the way the consortium lads spoke to me. It was very Irish.
‘Great fuckin’ result.’
I enjoy it; I plugged into it. There are Irish traits I think we need to move away from, but not that hospitality and support.
‘Fuckin’ good on yeh.’
I said I needed a goalkeeper.
‘Is there no fuckin’ goalkeeper we can get in from the youth team?’
‘Ah now, lads.’
At the same time, they were clever business people and I bet they couldn’t believe what was going on. It was a proper journey for them. But the Premiership was going to be different. As much as these men were successful, the Premiership was about the Russians and the sheiks and the Yanks. We’d be shopping in a different shop. Up to now, we hadn’t been buying where Manchester United go to buy.
People often say that the Championship is one of the toughest leagues in the world. I won it as a manager – I have to say that. No one else ever does.
EIGHT
The disappointments are remembered more than the highs. They’re what spur you on, because they hurt. I enjoyed the victories, but took them with a pinch of salt. Especially in the Premiership, you’re always going, ‘God, look who we’ve got next week.’
Then it changed.
‘Fuck the draws – let’s go and win.’
We lost a lot but we won a few we wouldn’t have been expected to win. We didn’t have many draws – and they’re actually vital. The attitude was all or nothing. But it worked. I appreciate that it doesn’t always work, but I wasn’t thinking that way. It was, ‘Let’s go for it.’ Even when we were 4–0 down at home to United, I was thinking, ‘Let’s have a go at them.’ I knew the players’ strength, and the fans wouldn’t have wanted us to be defensive.
From a tactical point of view, we should probably have been more cautious. But what had got us promoted, and what gave us a bit of early success, was having a go. You need a feel for your club, and Sunderland was all about having a go. Sunderland really did suit my personality at that time. I was up for it and full of energy and I felt that the Sunderland fans were right behind me.
Getting players in was the most important part of our preparation for the Premiership. But there were other issues, too. Where could we improve? Could we travel better – do we fly to more matches, and stay in better hotels? We were going to London now, and Manchester, and Liverpool. The year before we’d been going to Colchester and Southend. It wasn’t arrogance. It was a fact – we’d be travelling to big cities.
Could we get better medical care? Did we change the bonus schemes for staff? Would we want better training kits? The whole club improves – the badge on your kit is now Premiership. The whole package. The excitement of the supporters when the fixtures were published – Tottenham, Liverpool, United in the first five matches. And we’d be playing Newcastle – the derby.
People had told me about it.
‘Oh, the derby up there.’
It didn’t disappoint. It was the best derby I’ve ever been involved in, up there with Celtic and Rangers. And we’d be going to Middlesbrough, too – another derby.
As a player I’d had plenty of experience of the grounds we’d be visiting and of the quality we’d be playing against; I’d only retired the year before. And we’d some players with similar experience, like Dwight Yorke and Kieran Richardson. The important thing was not to be intimidated, or worried about the occasion, or even overwhelmed. Expectations were higher now, and the players would have to live with them. You wouldn’t hear the Sunderland fans saying, ‘As long as we stay up.’ They’d have their targets – ‘Once we beat fuckin’ Newcastle,’ or ‘We have to beat this team.’ The players had to realise that they deserved to be where they were, and not to be overawed.
Our first game was at home to Tottenham, live on Sky. We won. 1–0. Brilliant. Michael Chopra scored, in injury time.
A newly promoted team really does need a decent start. You need points. If you fall behind in your points per games figure – one point a game – it’s a fucker. But, straightaway, we’d three points from just one game. We drew at Birmingham midweek, so now we’d four points from two games.
‘What’s the fuss? What’s everyone frightened of?’
This was great.
Then we go to Wigan – ‘Fuckin’ Wigan?’ – and they turn us over, 3–0.
‘That’s what it’s about.’
Wigan bullied us. They were big and strong. Heskey was up front, and Kirkland in goal. These were England players.
Then there was Liverpool.
Then United.
Now we had four points from five games.
Then we beat Reading. Seven points from six. We went to Middlesbrough, and drew. Eight points from seven games. Blackburn. We were robbed. Eight points from eight. Not too bad; I’d have taken that. Then we lose to Arsenal, then West Ham. Eight from ten. We draw with Fulham. Nine points from eleven games – now we were chasing our tail.
We’d played Birmingham the previous season, in the Championship. But this time – our second game in the Premiership – we’d only four players starting of the eleven who’d played for us the year before. It’s hard to let lads go when they’ve done well for you. But it’s the game. Characters get you promoted, but you need more than characters in the Premiership. You need skill, talent, pace, luck.
Immediately after we were promoted I was thinking about new players. Even while we were celebrating in the dressing room.
That’s the hard side of life for many footballers. It was sad, and I wondered how I was going to tell them. But, then, it’s a business, and I wondered if I could get good money for them. I’d have to speak to their agents. Hopefully, there’d be takers for them. It was no good deciding that, say, three players wouldn’t be staying if no other clubs actually wanted them. It seems brutal, but they’ve been part of a promotion team, so it almost guarantees them a good move. It’s one of the hardest parts of management – shifting players.
I had five or six weeks off, but I was still making and taking phone calls. In some ways, holidays are a nightmare for a manager. I made the mistake – and I made the same mistake the following year. I was all summer making phone calls. It was pointless, because everybody was away anyway. Agents, chief executives, medical staff – right across football, they’re all away. I never got a deal done during the summer. I should have left the phone off, and checked in now and then. I’ve read since that Arsène Wenger switches his mobile off when he’s on holiday, and just turns it on for an hour in the evenings. I wish I’d had that wisdom, or common sense, at the time. But I was thinking, ‘I’d better be pro
active, I’d better be busy.’
I should have been thinking about the quality of the calls, not the quantity. It was inexperience. I wanted to be keen, and I wanted to do well.
‘Oh, if we don’t sign this player in July, he could be gone.’
I’d a list of players, lads playing in the Premiership, that I gave to Niall when we were promoted. I thought it would be easy. But it wasn’t. They wanted too much money but we weren’t giving out mega-money. We’d made progress, but we couldn’t go from one extreme to another. We didn’t want to go the way of Leeds or, later, Portsmouth. And Sunderland had been in difficulty until the Irish consortium took over. The top player at Sunderland was on less than twenty grand a week. It was decent, but a lot a players were looking for forty or sixty. So I had to start accepting that we weren’t going to get the players I’d thought we would.
We got permission to speak to David Nugent. He was at Preston and I’d seen him, against us, the previous season. He was a decent player, although not a massive goalscorer. I met him at my house in Manchester, with his agent. I thought the house was a better option, less formal. We’d agreed a fee – I think it was four million.
So he’s, ‘Yeah, yeah – big decision for me – thinking it over.’
Fine – no problem.
I was doing my Pro Licence at the time, and on my way back home a few weeks later I got a call from David Nugent’s agent: ‘He’s undecided. Harry’s in for him at Portsmouth.’
This was Harry Redknapp.
So I said there was no pressure but it was only a couple of weeks before the start of pre-season, and there’d come a point when we’d have to make our minds up.
I had to bring it to a head another few weeks later. This was David Nugent, by the way; he hadn’t become Messi. But he was a good player and we wanted him.
