The Second Half (13 page)

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Authors: Roy Keane,Roddy Doyle

BOOK: The Second Half
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They asked me would I be interested in the job.

I said, ‘I’m not sure what I want to do yet, lads. I’ll have a think about it.’

They spoke about what various players were earning, contracts and wages, and about getting players in and out.

I was going, ‘One step at a time; let me have a think about it.’

They were basically giving me a plan. They seemed keen. I thought the job might be mine, if I wanted it. They’d just taken over the club, and you have to have a manager in place before the start of pre-season. If only to save face. Mick McCarthy had gone in March, before the consortium took over the club; and Kevin Ball had been the caretaker until the end of the season. They’d been relegated with one of the lowest points totals ever.

I went home and I told Michael a few days later, ‘It’s not for me.’

I wanted to focus on finishing my coaching courses – I was about to start the UEFA A; I didn’t want to jump into a job too quickly. Sunderland were disappointed and, over the next month or so, they couldn’t find anyone to take the job. Which still amazes me. I heard that Martin O’Neill and Sam Allardyce had turned it down before they’d spoken to me.

At that stage, I wasn’t 100 per cent sure what I wanted to do. I genuinely wasn’t certain if management or coaching were for me. There was a stricter divide between the two roles back then. The courses weren’t exactly whetting my appetite for coaching. I’d
often thought, ‘Well, this is a pain in the arse.’ There’s a coaching expression, ‘Being out on the grass’. I wasn’t sure that that was what I wanted. But I understood that the courses had to be done. I thought I’d be more interested in management, and running a club. But, if I did take a job, I didn’t want to be doing the courses while I was starting. Paul Ince and Gareth Southgate had had to do that. If things didn’t start well, I didn’t want the accusation thrown at me, ‘Well, you didn’t finish your coaching badges.’ And, financially, I didn’t have to jump into a job.

I started my UEFA A course that summer, then I went on holiday for a few weeks in August. I was in Portugal when the season started, and I watched a few matches on television. Sunderland were struggling badly. They played Bury away, in the League Cup, on a Tuesday night. And they were beaten. Niall was interviewed after the game; he was their temporary manager. He looked about a hundred.

My sister texted me:
Did you see Niall Quinn? You need to help him out
.

I looked at Niall – and I rang Michael Kennedy the next day. I asked him to get in touch with Sunderland: ‘If they still want me, I’ll go for it.’

I’d been with my family all summer. It had been great, but I didn’t want to be with them all the time. I’m a dad; I needed to go out and earn a living. I wanted my kids to see me going to work.

The consortium came back: ‘It’s there for you if you want it.’

And I decided I’d go for it. My best decisions are always the quick ones. I wasn’t thinking about staff, or tactics, or ‘We’ll need ten players.’ No master plan. It was just, ‘I’ll go for it.’ One step at a time.

From a business point of view they knew what they were getting. Obviously, I was way behind Martin and Sam in terms
of experience. I’d never managed a team before. It was a proper gamble for them, and it was a gamble for me. But they’d have been thinking about ticket sales, too. I think if you’d asked Niall at the time, he’d have said, ‘We’re not too worried about the coaching credentials; we need a boost.’

They’d lost their identity, lost their spark. They probably thought, ‘He’s the man.’ I was the marquee signing, and I don’t shy away from that.

Five defeats in five games – it was a shocking start, especially for a team that had just been relegated. Bury, who knocked them out of the League Cup, were the lowest team in the League – ninety-second. But Sunderland weren’t as bad as the results were suggesting. A lot of those players had just been in the Premiership. It didn’t matter to me if they’d been relegated with one point or thirty-five, they were still a Premiership outfit.

On the other hand, I wasn’t thinking about promotion.

I wasn’t associated with the club; I’d no loyalty to them – unlike Niall. I was able to go in cold; I’m very good at living in the now. And my reputation as a player probably helped. There was a certain fear – ‘What’s he going to do?’ But I know what I’m good at, and I thought, ‘I’ll be good with these players.’

What helped me make the jump from player to manager was the experience I’d had at United, and my responsibilities as captain. I had a bit of common sense to me. But I hadn’t given the prospect that much thought, and it had never been a dream – I don’t think you’d grow up dreaming of being a manager! I just thought, ‘Let’s give it a go. We’ll see what happens here.’

The complications of the job – board meetings, getting staff organised, even meeting the parents of young players; I was gung-ho about facing all that – ‘We’ll see how that goes.’ If I’d sat down and considered every aspect of it, I might never have gone into management. But if you keep that childlike love of the game,
you’re inclined to think, ‘I’ll adapt to that, and I’ll have good people around me. From Monday to Friday, my job is to try and get a result on Saturday.’

Sunderland were playing West Brom at home the following weekend, after I’d phoned Michael. I was back home in Manchester by then, and I drove up to watch the match, with Tony Loughlan – Tony was going to be my first-team coach. Nothing had been announced yet. I wanted to have a look at the team, and the training ground. There were 14,000 people there, in a stadium with a capacity of 42,000.

They won 2–0 – but I don’t claim credit for that. It was what I’d expected; they were a half-decent team. I remember thinking, ‘They’re not bad, these.’

They’d just been having a hard time – a few injuries, confidence. It was exciting, watching the team I was going to manage. I knew the potential was there.

Niall showed me around the training ground, the Academy of Light, the next day, and introduced me to the team.

Michael was handling the negotiations. We knew they would be straightforward, and that we were in a great position. It wasn’t going to be a case of, ‘Ah, I’ve got you now, lads’, but I’d been seen at the West Brom match; there was talk around the place. There’d been a bit of embarrassment about other possible managers. They’d be lynched if they didn’t get the deal done with me. Niall had had a bash at the job, and it hadn’t gone well. He knew it was hard work. So I thought I’d get a little bit of grace.

Everything fell into place. I got a brilliant contract, over a million a year, a lot of money for a Championship job – and my first job. I suppose what usually happens is you’re offered a short contract, you ask for a longer one and you meet in the middle. But Sunderland offered me a five-year deal and I said I only wanted to
sign for three. I was confident enough, but I wanted to see how it would go. I was still thinking like a footballer – a shorter deal and keep your options open. I should have been thinking of job security and the financial consequences of being sacked.

I’ve learnt since that, contractually, the day you take over at a club is the day you start to leave. Most of the contract details are about what happens at the end; you’re already negotiating your settlement. It’s such a negative way to go into a job. You should be upbeat, but most of the negotiations are about how much it will cost to get rid of you.

The distance from my home to Sunderland was about two and a half hours in the car. The plan was, the family would follow me. We’d move house, up to the area, and we’d find a Catholic school for the kids.

Myself and Tony took training for the first time the day after I’d signed my contract. I knew Tony at Nottingham Forest. He was a player there when I arrived. He only played a couple of first-team games before he left, because of injuries. We were together a few years at Forest, and I’d always kept in touch with him. I’d kept in touch with a few of the Forest players, Tony, and Gary Charles. When I came to Forest I didn’t have a car and Tony would bring me to play snooker, and Gary Charles used to drive me around sometimes; we’d go to the pictures together. They were nice to me – simple as that.

Tony did his coaching badges when he was twenty-one or two, at Forest; he did them on Sunday mornings with some of the other players. I’d be lying in bed, hungover, hearing him collect Gary Bowyer, who I was sharing a house with, as they were heading off to do their coaching course, and I remember saying to myself, ‘Idiots.’

Tony had a lot of experience at this stage – he was coaching at Leicester City’s academy – and when I did my own courses, he
helped me a bit with the session plans that I had to hand in. I’d always thought if I got a management job I’d ask Tony to come with me – a good coach and a good friend, and someone I could trust. We enjoyed each other’s company. I don’t remember us laughing, but I’d like to think we did. He’s coaching at Burnley now, with Sean Dyche and Ian Woan, two ex-players who were also at Forest when we were there. That’s how the game works.

We took training, and we started looking at the staff and players. I thought, ‘My God, there’s a lot of work to be done.’ They weren’t great; they were nothing like a promotion team. But they were near the bottom of the table, so there was only one way to go.

I loved it from thereon. From the very beginning, I thought it was brilliant. Niall trusted me to get on with it.

We had to spend money, although not as much as was often reported. We were heading towards League One; we’d got used to losing. Throughout the season, we invested roughly three and a half million in players, taking into account players coming in and going out. But now we only had a couple of days to get a few players in, before the transfer deadline.

The transfer deadline makes people panic. That’s why transfer fees go through the roof. Agents are holding guns to the heads of chairmen. It backfires on everybody. We identified six or seven players – which is a lot. Meeting the players, medicals to be organised, personal terms. But Niall and the chief executive, Peter Walker, were brilliant; they got it done for me. I asked for six players and they came back with six. It made sense, of course; we were all after the same thing – success. I knew my arrival would give us a bit of a boost, but we had to keep it up.

I brought in six. Six players I’d played with. Six good characters. They’d all played for their countries. I’d had them at the back of my mind, although I didn’t know if they’d be available.

I only had three days. But I think, on this occasion, it worked well for us. If I’d had a couple of months, I’d have had people bouncing off me, people moving the goalposts, agents going, ‘We’ve another club waiting.’ But this time the players and their clubs had a quick decision to make. I had to make offers for them. ‘But you’ll need to make your mind up, because you’ll have to have a medical tomorrow.’ No one was taking a pay cut. We’d no one coming in from AC Milan. We were paying decent money for that level. Not thirty or forty thousand a week, but twelve or fifteen – something like that. Graham Kavanagh and Dave Connolly were at Wigan, and that helped. We weren’t dealing with six different clubs, for six players. We’d the two lads from Wigan, Ross Wallace and Stan Varga were at Celtic, and Liam Millar was being released by Manchester United

It was a great lift. You go out training with one group of players and the next day five or six international players come out with you.

It was Niall who made the calls and did the deals. He rang Celtic’s chief executive, and he’d have rung the agent to see if, say, Ross Wallace fancied the move. I’ve a reputation for being a loner, but I got on well with all these lads. I’d roomed with Graham Kavanagh when we were with Ireland.

I was staying in a cottage at the back of the hotel, so I had a bit of room and privacy. Ross and Stan came, with their agent – he represented both of them. I’d played with them a few months earlier at Celtic, so the conversation was easy.

‘Do you fancy it, lads?’

It was very straightforward.

‘We’re pretty average. But if you come on board – and I’m trying to get another couple of lads in – we’ll be all right.’

They went, ‘Yeah.’

And I went, ‘Brilliant. I’ll put the kettle on.’

It was as simple as that. I almost wish I’d kept that approach more. To be myself.

I had to pull a few teeth to get Dave Connolly. Michael Kennedy represented Dave, and I knew he’d play hardball. There was no problem there, even though Michael had represented me; he’d negotiated my contract with Sunderland. But Michael was representing his client here, not me or Sunderland. I knew the business. I needed a striker and Michael would get the best deal for his client.

Dave was going, ‘Oh, I don’t want to leave Wigan.’

And I went, ‘Listen, Dave, compare Wigan to Sunderland.’

I brought in good players, and good characters. They made my job easier. Somebody asked Capello years ago how come he was such a good manager. He said, ‘I’ve been very fortunate. I’ve always worked with good players.’ Never forget that. Never give managers too much credit – but don’t knock them too much when things are going bad. I think it was Jock Stein who said ‘Football is about the fans and the players.’ Never get too carried away about the manager. I’m not playing myself down – but the players did the business.

All these players were signing on the same day, and it lifted everybody. It lifted Sunderland – the city and the club. And we hadn’t played a game yet. We weren’t signing Ronaldo, but Ross and Stan were both Celtic players – good players. Dave, Graham, Liam – I knew them. You’d have looked at them and said, ‘Well, we’re heading up the table.’

When you sign a player, you’re sending a message – to the fans and to the other clubs in your league.

I rang Dwight Yorke. It was seven in the morning when I picked up the phone at the training ground, because he was in Australia, with Sydney FC; he was their marquee player.

So I rang him.

‘All right, Yorkie?’

I’d got on well with Yorkie at United. He had the penthouse in Sydney Harbour, and the Lamborghini, all the women. A hard life. But I knew he loved football. He loved the game and he liked a challenge.

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