ROY Keane's departure from Sunderland may have seemed abrupt, but it will have been about as surprising as the arrival of Christmas to anyone who witnessed his TV interview immediately after his team's 4-1 defeat by Bolton last weekend. The Irishman's public self-examination then amounted to him handing in his notice.
The period of advance warning could be said to have been abbreviated from the usual three months to a mere five days, but this tends to confirm the impression that the former Manchester United and Ireland midfielder is a man still wrestling with pers
onal demons.
"I ask myself every day if I'm the right man for Sunderland," he said. "I asked myself this morning and I said I was. Sunday morning, if the answer's no, we'll have to look at it. I might wake up on Monday morning and think I'm the right man. On Tuesday, it might be different."
The daily interrogation seems to have elicited a reply in the affirmative only as far as yesterday morning, when the negative led to his informing the Sunderland chairman, his former international team-mate Niall Quinn, that he was quitting his position.
Erratic though this latest course of action may appear, it is entirely in keeping with the behavioural history of a man renowned for his intolerance, often destructive impulsiveness and extremely unusual – maybe even unique – insularity.
If he had seemed unnaturally composed during 27 months at the Stadium of Light that would have tested the patience of more temperate men, it was attributed by those who know him to an impressive exercise in self-control. He was still regarded by former colleagues as an ambiguity that recalled Hugh McIlvanney's peerless description of Lester Piggott: "A volcano trapped in an iceberg."
"He is a man who could easily live alone," said one who knows Keane well, a comment supported by the latter's well-publicised penchant through the years for indulging in conflicts in which self-interest would be a priority a long way ahead of consideration of any adverse effect his actions may have on team-mates and management.
The most notorious, of course, was his vein-bursting haranguing of Mick McCarthy – in front of the entire playing squad – on the eve of Ireland's World Cup campaign in Japan and Korea in 2002. Keane, the captain, accused McCarthy and the Football Association of Ireland of an "amateurish" approach, specifically targeting the players' flying economy class and the standard of their living accommodation. The viciousness of his verbal assault on McCarthy shocked even his team-mates before he walked out and returned home. But there were many other unsavoury episodes during his 12 years at Old Trafford, many of them occurring during Keane's drinking years. "When he stopped drinking, he stopped communicating," said a former colleague, recalling Keane's anti-social indifference to the rest of the dressing room.
Aged just 38, Keane should have another 20 years of managing ahead of him, but his singular personality takes him beyond the conventional. Chairmen of Premier League clubs in England are unlikely to look favourably on a prospective employee with a record of sudden flight from situations that seem to offend his sensibilities.
"Roy's not what you'd call a natural manager," I was told, lending credence to the notion that his recruitment by Quinn – one of very few who could be classed as an authentic friend of Keane – was based on a relationship he does not enjoy with any other potential hirers in the division. "Management requires a willingness to embrace and accommodate many things he does not find easy, such as inferiority, players' weaknesses and a hundred other difficulties that have to be faced."
His recent scathing criticism of former players employed as pundits also suggests that a career in the media will be about as appealing as a barefoot walk through a snake pit.
Given Keane's high earnings through a long and ultra-successful career, he will have no financial worries to impinge on whatever thought, if any, he is now giving to his future. On previous form, there is every reason to believe that, in leaving Sunderland, consideration of what may lie ahead will not have entered his head.
Nor is he likely to fret over the possibility that willing employers will not be forming a queue outside his luxury Cheshire home. As one of the game's most committed loners, such a prospect could be a cause for celebration.
The full article contains 748 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
