My Roy Keane Diary: 'A day in the life'

Roytirement:

I retired from football in May 2006.  People ask 'do you miss it Roy?'

'No'.

My love of football died the day I left Manchester United.  Football is a business. I get that.  Chairmen screw managers, managers screw players, agents screw clubs. In late 2005 it was my turn to be screwed.  I was a commodity that was now not worth much.  Traded, used then discarded.  That's you Roy.  No 'thanks for all the years of service Roy.'  Just 'there's the severance package.  Now go annoy someone else.' 

That someone else was about to be Gordon Strachan.  He told me he didn't want me at Celtic so I joined.  f**k him.  I know where I'm not wanted. so that's where I'm going.   My time at Celtic turned out to be a bloody nightmare.  My first game at Clyde was the unveiling ground for this new signing.  The pitch resembled a speedway track. A stadium with 3 sides. Windswept and cold in January.  Welcome to your new life Roy.  I used to get abused by opposition fans.  Here? There were no fans.  We lose.  I'm already thinking 'Christ! I've signed on for a couple for years up here!''.  Clyde's facilities wouldn't resemble those of Highbury or Old Trafford.  A cold shower and it's straight onto the team bus for the depressing journey back.  John Hartson is already on the bus tucking into his post match meal.  Johnnie Onion Rings and a bottle of Irn Bru.  At United we would be on the best foods.  Carbohydrates, protein and creatine to aid recovery for the next training session and game.  At Celtic it was chocolate, prawn cocktail crisps and Coke.  John, the good lad that he is extends his arm offering me a few of his onion rings. 'No thanks John.'   We win the league. John is 19 stone now.  Hail hail.

My love of the game remained dead all through my managerial career.  Sunderland, Ipswich and Ireland came and went with a few smiles. But mostly anger.  'This is your future Roy' I thought as looked on at Callum Robinson making a snapchat at a team meeting.  The game has changed. 'Don't be hard on them Roy' I told myself. Was it a generational thing? Maybe.  People are different now.  Maybe you don't fit into this way of life Roy.  It was late 2018 and how I wish I were back at the comparitively good days of watching John Hartson eat his way to Type 2 diabetes on the team bus in the days before social media.

Throughout 2019 and 2020 I spent my time in the studios of ITV and Sky doing punditry.  It was ok.  Micah Richards.  He likes a snapchat.  He told me he burst onto the scene.  I know what I'd like to burst.  Micah is not the worst. A bit daft but a good lad.  But one can spend too much time with Micah.  I take him like I do my prostate examination.  Lets get this over with and the discomfort you feel during it is outweighed by the relief and long lasting satisfaction when its finally over with for another year.  I'm not due to do punditry with him until 2021 again.

I am at home in October.  Theresa tells me to not look so glum. I'm bored.  Bored of life.  Bored of football.  I look at Triggs.  Thank God for her.  The love of my life.  She understands.

Phone call.

Roy 'someone's on the phone for you Roy'.

It's Becks.

'Hello' I thought.

'Hi Keanie'  (Keanie??)

'Hello Becks.'

'How are you Roy?'

'The usual.miserable.'

'Great. I know you thrive on misery Roy'.  (cheeky bugger.  I like Becks)

'Roy this isn't a social call.'

'We want you at Inter Milan'

'Inter Milan!' I thought.

'Sorry I mean Inter Miami'.

'My heart sinks once more back to its homeostatic state'.

'We want you to be our new coach.'

To be continued....