Slipperduke
The Camden Cad
Imagine that you're an Ipswich Town player. The season is practically over and you're just far enough outside of the play-offs not to have to worry about them. Your wife has sorted out your summer holidays, a cheeky fortnight in Dubai to let the stresses and strains of a long, fruitless campaign evaporate in the sun. You beat your local rivals, Norwich, at the weekend, so it's not like you haven't achieved. Besides, you know, ninth place is alright, isn't it? And then the phone goes and your friend tells you to turn on the news. You run to the television, frantically flicking through the channels. And then you see his name. And then you see his face. And those eyes. Those terrible, terrible eyes. Your mouth opens and closes soundlessly like a guppy. The tears come free and fast. There's no getting away from it. Roy Keane is your new boss.
There is no stare like a Roy Keane stare. I've been on the receiving end of one and I wouldn't recommend it. It's like being hit by the Eye of Sauron. You get caught in the crystal blue glare, as if you're being dared to make a move, any move. Those Ipswich players will know all about it very soon. May God have mercy on their souls.
Roy Keane has certain beliefs in life. He believes that if he is willing to run himself into the ground for the team, then everyone else should as well. He believes that you are only as good as your last game and that reputations mean nothing. He thinks that moaners are only making excuses for their own failings, that there is nothing that cannot be achieved by hard graft and that he could take any other mammal, including lions, in hand-to-hand combat. I can't confirm that last one, but it sounds plausible to me.
With Keane, you only ever get one chance, regardless of personal problems. He has no hesitation in kicking a player out, regardless of how much he cost. Greg Halford arrived at the Stadium of Light for a whopping 3m in the summer of 2007. By January, he was at Charlton. When he heard that his defender Clarke Carlisle had suffered a heart attack while out on loan at Leicester he commented, "I'm surprised that they found one. You could never tell it from the way he plays."
He has very little time for the modern day footballer and is disgusted by their excesses. As manager of Sunderland he raged at players foolish enough to admit that their wives were perturbed at moving so far up north.
"These so-called big stars are people we are supposed to be looking up to," he growled. "Well, they are weak and soft. If they don't want to come because their wife wants to go shopping in London, it's a sad state of affairs."
Former players have described his man-management style of consisting mostly of, "kicking chairs," and there was one fantastic, possibly apocryphal, story about him hiding in the toilets of the dressing room at half-time and then, when his players had sat down, emerging to launch a devastating drop-kick at the tactics board. He prowls the touchline, staring down wrongdoers, dark clouds building up above him.
Those Ipswich players had better hope and pray that they've given their all this season because you can guarantee that Keane, who will let caretaker manager Brian Klug look after things this weekend, will be going through the videos and analysing their performances. The slackers will be weeded out. Woe betide the first person to whinge and whine. From this moment on, nothing less than 100% will do.
There is no stare like a Roy Keane stare. I've been on the receiving end of one and I wouldn't recommend it. It's like being hit by the Eye of Sauron. You get caught in the crystal blue glare, as if you're being dared to make a move, any move. Those Ipswich players will know all about it very soon. May God have mercy on their souls.
Roy Keane has certain beliefs in life. He believes that if he is willing to run himself into the ground for the team, then everyone else should as well. He believes that you are only as good as your last game and that reputations mean nothing. He thinks that moaners are only making excuses for their own failings, that there is nothing that cannot be achieved by hard graft and that he could take any other mammal, including lions, in hand-to-hand combat. I can't confirm that last one, but it sounds plausible to me.
With Keane, you only ever get one chance, regardless of personal problems. He has no hesitation in kicking a player out, regardless of how much he cost. Greg Halford arrived at the Stadium of Light for a whopping 3m in the summer of 2007. By January, he was at Charlton. When he heard that his defender Clarke Carlisle had suffered a heart attack while out on loan at Leicester he commented, "I'm surprised that they found one. You could never tell it from the way he plays."
He has very little time for the modern day footballer and is disgusted by their excesses. As manager of Sunderland he raged at players foolish enough to admit that their wives were perturbed at moving so far up north.
"These so-called big stars are people we are supposed to be looking up to," he growled. "Well, they are weak and soft. If they don't want to come because their wife wants to go shopping in London, it's a sad state of affairs."
Former players have described his man-management style of consisting mostly of, "kicking chairs," and there was one fantastic, possibly apocryphal, story about him hiding in the toilets of the dressing room at half-time and then, when his players had sat down, emerging to launch a devastating drop-kick at the tactics board. He prowls the touchline, staring down wrongdoers, dark clouds building up above him.
Those Ipswich players had better hope and pray that they've given their all this season because you can guarantee that Keane, who will let caretaker manager Brian Klug look after things this weekend, will be going through the videos and analysing their performances. The slackers will be weeded out. Woe betide the first person to whinge and whine. From this moment on, nothing less than 100% will do.
