Authors: Roy Keane,Roddy Doyle
The Barnsley Three were at the training ground early enough on Monday morning to bring in the milk. I’d called them in early for a meeting, but only so we could get it out of the way and they could go out to training. They came into my office together, like they were coming to see the headmaster. Which I didn’t like.
I said, ‘Look, lads, you were out of order. But it was no big deal. You’re not going to be made to suffer any more. You’ll all be training with the first team.’
I didn’t fine them.
I’d take a stance, then say, ‘It’s over.’ I wanted the lads to know that we were going places, and they were still part of it. I wanted them to look at me like I’d looked at Ferguson and think, ‘Well, that’s fair.’ Regarding more personal matters, I could have hangups for years. But when it came to players, I had to be a bit more selfish; I knew I needed them.
We drew with Stoke at home, 2–2. We were 2–1 down, then Daryl Murphy scored in injury time. We were poor. Everyone had thought that we could beat Stoke, even though Stoke had beaten us earlier in the season. But Stoke were decent. Murph scored, and I said to myself, ‘That’s a massive point.’
After the game, I came into the dressing room. Everyone was flat. The players, even the staff. I got annoyed with my staff that night. Two–one in injury time, and we still drew – they’re the points that get you up. Never give up.
We beat Hull at home, 2–0; Jonny Evans and Stern. Then we won at Cardiff. A big result – Ross Wallace scored with a free-kick. Jonny was a big player for us – his leadership, and his ability to read the game. He was a tough boy. The Championship is full of men who’ve been around the block, but Jonny was only just a kid. I liked everything about Jonny.
That was the night Niall organised all the taxis for the fans who were stranded at Bristol Airport. Later, I announced that I was hiring a private detective to dig up some dirt on Niall, that no one could be that good. I’m still working on it.
Since the new year we’d had eleven wins and three draws. Our next game was at home to Wolves. I thought, ‘This’ll be a good test for us.’ It would be a measure of our progress, a little
benchmark. Wolves were doing well, too. It was April now, and there were six games left to the end of the season. I knew some of the players would be nervous.
Yorkie had just had his Lamborghini shipped over from Sydney and he brought it into the training ground. A white Lamborghini in Sunderland does stick out a little bit. I was looking out of my office window and Yorkie was pulling up outside, and all the lads – the players – were looking at his wheels. It was perfect. They were focusing on Yorkie’s Lamborghini, and the game against Wolves was the last thing on their minds.
The next day we went out and beat them. We won, 2–1. Daryl Murphy scored for us – a rocket. After the game, Mick McCarthy said that we’d definitely be promoted. He was playing games with us, the way I’d done with Derby – putting the pressure on the other team.
The rumour on the street was that we were doing something extraordinary. My training, apparently, was legendary. But we were just doing what I’d done for years. But we were doing it properly. We trained properly and we travelled properly. I made the lads wear a shirt and tie when they went anywhere.
This is vital: we’d trained our fuckin’ socks off. I always say, ‘You train how you play’, with intensity. We always had a game at the end of the session. Not just a few stretches, and a little kick about. If it was a draw, the lads played until there was a winner, even if it went on for hours. There had to be something at the end of training; there had to be a winner or a loser, and punishment for the losers – press-ups, or collecting the balls and cones. We were creating a spirit among them. There were bust-ups and fisticuffs – but nice fisticuffs. It wasn’t nasty; it was enthusiasm. The players were hungry. They all wanted to be in the starting eleven.
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.