Slipperduke
The Camden Cad
I’m devastated. Roy Keane’s spectacular career suicide has robbed the Premier League of one of its most intriguing characters and it’s all so pointless.
Sunderland have played some good football this year, notably when they finally beat their bitter rivals Newcastle at The Stadium Of Light, but also against Liverpool on the opening day and in a number of other occasions when a goal against the run of play curtailed their efforts. They have exciting players like the renewed Djibril Cisse and the much under-rated Steed Malbranque and they’re not even doing that badly. Yes, they’re in the relegation zone, but they’re only four points off mid-table with West Bromwich Albion, Hull and Blackburn to play before Christmas. It’s hardly the end of the world, is it?
Unfortunately, Keane is only so fascinating because he’s so unpredictable and, well, let’s not beat about the bush, so mad. I’ve rarely felt quite as vulnerable as I did under his pale gaze in a press conference last season. Keane never treated those post-match gatherings as a chance to put his side of the story across, he saw them as hastily arranged fights around the back of the bike sheds. He only ever seemed really happy when he was bullying journalists.
He didn’t stand on the touchline like other managers, he brooded. Blessed with looks that a female friend of mine describes as, “hot, but in a rugged, jaded sort of way,” he always looked like he should have been stubbing out a cigarette before wandering off into the night, nursing a pain that we could never understand. He has admitted in the past to being too hard on himself and too critical a judge of his own failings, but he really should have given himself more time.
He’s been criticised for spending too much on too little but, while there’s certainly some truth in that, he’s had to drastically overhaul the team three times in his short spell at the club. first to get them off the bottom of the second flight, then to give them a chance of survival and this year, to make them competitive. He’s been successful on every occasion, including this season.
Sunderland have the players capable of making a push for the top half of the table. Craig Gordon is a fine goalkeeper, Anton Ferdinand is on the fringes of the England squad, Malbranque could be on the fringes of a big four club and Cisse’s pace is devastating. Keane’s only crime was to constantly tinker with selection, dropping players out of the team too quickly, mixing and matching his partnerships. Stability is vital in football, something that he should have learned from Sir Alex Ferguson.
Keane’s resignation means an end to the speculation that he would take over from his old mentor. If he’d hung on until the end of the season, securing Sunderland’s status in the process, and then slipped away, he’d have had a chance. His record would have been intact and he would have been the fan’s favourite. This capitulation will be a permanent stain on his record. He may yet return to the game, but it won’t be as Manchester United manager.
For the foreseeable future there will be no more piercing glares at journalists, no more pensive scowls on the touchline and no more enigmatic speeches. Just one startled dog called Triggs being dragged mercilessly across the Irish countryside by his troubled master. What a senseless waste.
Sunderland have played some good football this year, notably when they finally beat their bitter rivals Newcastle at The Stadium Of Light, but also against Liverpool on the opening day and in a number of other occasions when a goal against the run of play curtailed their efforts. They have exciting players like the renewed Djibril Cisse and the much under-rated Steed Malbranque and they’re not even doing that badly. Yes, they’re in the relegation zone, but they’re only four points off mid-table with West Bromwich Albion, Hull and Blackburn to play before Christmas. It’s hardly the end of the world, is it?
Unfortunately, Keane is only so fascinating because he’s so unpredictable and, well, let’s not beat about the bush, so mad. I’ve rarely felt quite as vulnerable as I did under his pale gaze in a press conference last season. Keane never treated those post-match gatherings as a chance to put his side of the story across, he saw them as hastily arranged fights around the back of the bike sheds. He only ever seemed really happy when he was bullying journalists.
He didn’t stand on the touchline like other managers, he brooded. Blessed with looks that a female friend of mine describes as, “hot, but in a rugged, jaded sort of way,” he always looked like he should have been stubbing out a cigarette before wandering off into the night, nursing a pain that we could never understand. He has admitted in the past to being too hard on himself and too critical a judge of his own failings, but he really should have given himself more time.
He’s been criticised for spending too much on too little but, while there’s certainly some truth in that, he’s had to drastically overhaul the team three times in his short spell at the club. first to get them off the bottom of the second flight, then to give them a chance of survival and this year, to make them competitive. He’s been successful on every occasion, including this season.
Sunderland have the players capable of making a push for the top half of the table. Craig Gordon is a fine goalkeeper, Anton Ferdinand is on the fringes of the England squad, Malbranque could be on the fringes of a big four club and Cisse’s pace is devastating. Keane’s only crime was to constantly tinker with selection, dropping players out of the team too quickly, mixing and matching his partnerships. Stability is vital in football, something that he should have learned from Sir Alex Ferguson.
Keane’s resignation means an end to the speculation that he would take over from his old mentor. If he’d hung on until the end of the season, securing Sunderland’s status in the process, and then slipped away, he’d have had a chance. His record would have been intact and he would have been the fan’s favourite. This capitulation will be a permanent stain on his record. He may yet return to the game, but it won’t be as Manchester United manager.
For the foreseeable future there will be no more piercing glares at journalists, no more pensive scowls on the touchline and no more enigmatic speeches. Just one startled dog called Triggs being dragged mercilessly across the Irish countryside by his troubled master. What a senseless waste.
