Philip on Saturday: Haaland should think again
By Robert Philip (Filed: 17/08/2002)
I have always maintained that if someone were to hand me £150 million to assemble a Premiership-winning team, then the first player I'd buy would be Roy Keane. The Manchester United captain is the complete footballer; he can defend like Duncan Edwards, surge forward into attack like John Charles, caress passes like Danny Blanchflower, and has a happy knack of scoring all-important goals. Added to these attributes is his awesome passion. He is Old Trafford's ultimate Red Devil.
Alas, this complete footballer is also a complete prat; petulant . . . arrogant. . . spiteful . . . foul-mouthed . . . obnoxious . . . snide . . . vicious . . . heck, this man is a walking thesaurus on two muscular legs. I have no intention of buying his forthcoming biography - penned by the excellent but, on this occasion, blinkered Irish writer/broadcaster Eamonn Dunphy, who happens to be a close friend - because from the excerpts I've read, here is a tale penned through sheer greed.
If the rumour-mill is to be believed, Keane was paid a £1million advance for his literary efforts, and while the publishers will be drooling over the lurid headlines and acres of newsprint already generated, I believe Keane has sold his soul for the modern day equivalent of 30 pieces of silver.
Jack Charlton and Mick McCarthy, the two most successful Ireland managers in history, are sneeringly ridiculed. Former United players such as Peter Schmeichel, Dwight Yorke and Mark Bosnich are criticised, even his current so-called 'team-mates' do not escape the wrath of Keane. "Rolex watches, garages full of cars, mansions, set up for life, they then forgot about the game and lost their hunger . . ." is how he dismisses at least one colleague's efforts last season when the club failed to win a trophy.
Nor is there a shred of sympathy for Manchester City rival Alf-Inge Haaland, who has made just four appearances as a substitute since being the victim of a revenge attack on the pitch which has required three operations on his injured left knee with the prospect of further surgery to come. You are probably acquainted with the vile diatribe Keane unleashed upon his stricken victim and so, to protect the asterisk key on my lap-top, I will not repeat his obscene outpourings.
But it was interesting to read the following missive printed in Thursday's letters' page of The Times (aye, the same newspaper which paid Keane a goodly sum for the serialisation rights of his 'memoirs') from Mr Peter Doyle QC: "A professional footballer goes out to play. He intends to assault an opponent. He succeeds and causes him serious injury. He later boasts of the assault in his published autobiography . . . he is later prosecuted for causing grievous bodily harm. His fate awaits in the Crown Court . . . would not his prosecution meet the justice of the case as well as deterring like-minded players? It might do more to encourage lawful play than a fine by the FA which bore little resemblance to his earnings . . . or substantial damages for his victim which in large measure might be met from the sale of his book . . ."
Haaland does not intend taking legal advice but I would urge him to think again; according to a lawyer friend, the contents of this nasty little tome are sufficient evidence to launch a late-tackle of his own through a civil action. In the name of justice, take this sad individual for every penny you can, Alfie.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By Robert Philip (Filed: 17/08/2002)
I have always maintained that if someone were to hand me £150 million to assemble a Premiership-winning team, then the first player I'd buy would be Roy Keane. The Manchester United captain is the complete footballer; he can defend like Duncan Edwards, surge forward into attack like John Charles, caress passes like Danny Blanchflower, and has a happy knack of scoring all-important goals. Added to these attributes is his awesome passion. He is Old Trafford's ultimate Red Devil.
Alas, this complete footballer is also a complete prat; petulant . . . arrogant. . . spiteful . . . foul-mouthed . . . obnoxious . . . snide . . . vicious . . . heck, this man is a walking thesaurus on two muscular legs. I have no intention of buying his forthcoming biography - penned by the excellent but, on this occasion, blinkered Irish writer/broadcaster Eamonn Dunphy, who happens to be a close friend - because from the excerpts I've read, here is a tale penned through sheer greed.
If the rumour-mill is to be believed, Keane was paid a £1million advance for his literary efforts, and while the publishers will be drooling over the lurid headlines and acres of newsprint already generated, I believe Keane has sold his soul for the modern day equivalent of 30 pieces of silver.
Jack Charlton and Mick McCarthy, the two most successful Ireland managers in history, are sneeringly ridiculed. Former United players such as Peter Schmeichel, Dwight Yorke and Mark Bosnich are criticised, even his current so-called 'team-mates' do not escape the wrath of Keane. "Rolex watches, garages full of cars, mansions, set up for life, they then forgot about the game and lost their hunger . . ." is how he dismisses at least one colleague's efforts last season when the club failed to win a trophy.
Nor is there a shred of sympathy for Manchester City rival Alf-Inge Haaland, who has made just four appearances as a substitute since being the victim of a revenge attack on the pitch which has required three operations on his injured left knee with the prospect of further surgery to come. You are probably acquainted with the vile diatribe Keane unleashed upon his stricken victim and so, to protect the asterisk key on my lap-top, I will not repeat his obscene outpourings.
But it was interesting to read the following missive printed in Thursday's letters' page of The Times (aye, the same newspaper which paid Keane a goodly sum for the serialisation rights of his 'memoirs') from Mr Peter Doyle QC: "A professional footballer goes out to play. He intends to assault an opponent. He succeeds and causes him serious injury. He later boasts of the assault in his published autobiography . . . he is later prosecuted for causing grievous bodily harm. His fate awaits in the Crown Court . . . would not his prosecution meet the justice of the case as well as deterring like-minded players? It might do more to encourage lawful play than a fine by the FA which bore little resemblance to his earnings . . . or substantial damages for his victim which in large measure might be met from the sale of his book . . ."
Haaland does not intend taking legal advice but I would urge him to think again; according to a lawyer friend, the contents of this nasty little tome are sufficient evidence to launch a late-tackle of his own through a civil action. In the name of justice, take this sad individual for every penny you can, Alfie.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
