The Second Half

The Second Half

Roy Keane, Roddy Doyle

Language: English

Pages: 304

ISBN: 0297608886

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Memoir by one of the greatest of modern footballers, and former captain of Manchester United and Ireland, Roy Keane - co-written in a unique collaboration with Man Booker Prize-winner Roddy Doyle.

In an eighteen-year playing career for Cobh Ramblers, Nottingham Forest (under Brian Clough), Manchester United (under Sir Alex Ferguson) and Celtic, Roy Keane dominated every midfield he led to glory. Aggressive and highly competitive, his attitude helped him to excel as captain of Manchester United from 1997 until his departure in 2005. Playing at an international level for nearly all his career, he represented the Republic of Ireland for over fourteen years, mainly as team captain, until an incident with national coach Mick McCarthy resulted in Keane's walk-out from the 2002 World Cup. Since retiring as a player, Keane has managed Sunderland and Ipswich and has become a highly respected television pundit.

As part of a tiny elite of football players, Roy Keane has had a life like no other. His status as one of football's greatest stars is undisputed, but what of the challenges beyond the pitch? How did he succeed in coming to terms with life as a former Manchester United and Ireland leader and champion, reinventing himself as a manager and then a broadcaster, and cope with the psychological struggles this entailed?

In a stunning collaboration with Booker Prize-winning author Roddy Doyle, THE SECOND HALF blends anecdote and reflection in Roy Keane's inimitable voice. The result is an unforgettable personal odyssey which fearlessly challenges the meaning of success.

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clean, keep it tidy, and be ready for a quick getaway. I’m not sure now if that was the right way to be thinking, but it stopped me from getting too complacent. And, ultimately, it wasn’t my office; it was the club’s. But, again, I think I was afraid to enjoy myself too much – the glass was always half empty. I’d be embarrassed to ask the secretary, Susan, to arrange anything for me. If I had to book a flight or something, I’d do it myself. She used to look after all the players. I’d give out to

us.’ It would be a measure of our progress, a littlebenchmark. 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

But the idea that I wasn’t a hard worker, or that I only turned up now and again – it was nonsense. I knew when to go in and when to dip out, to recharge the batteries or give people a break from me. We’d some games coming up, and I knew there were a couple of good results around the corner. Not long before, there’d been talk of a contract extension. Now, I was gone. A bad spell is always coming. But I think I’d earned the right to get through that spell. Again – it was weeks, not months. But

experiences, in different countries. * I scored in our 4–1 win over Leicester. I didn’t score as many goals as I used to. My role in the team was changing. I was now more the sitting midfielder. I think the manager and Carlos Queiroz, his assistant, might have had their doubts about whether I had the discipline to do the job, because my game had been all about getting forward. But I was comfortable in the position, saving my body, using my experience. It fell into place; it suited me. I still

another bad draw. We were nearly a decent team. The family had moved down with me, and we rented a house. I liked it; I liked the sea air. But we moved house three times in the first year. It was unsettling, but we were trying to find the right village, and villages can be funny old places. We couldn’t find a Catholic school, like St Bede’s in Manchester, for the kids. The school we eventually found was different; it was more conventionally English, very middle class – cricket and rugby, tea and

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