He might have been born 270 miles away in Cork but Roy Keane, in spirit and
stature, is every inch a Northerner. He's bolshie, blunt, and he sees
situations in the starkest terms.
It's them and us. There's no such thing as compromise. Keane doesn't inhabit
the middle ground. He wouldn't even know how to get there. He's never run
from trouble in his life.
Like us, he contests everything: every loose ball, every decision, every
sign of slackening by team-mates. There he is, on the pitch, finger jabbing
in the air, with all the righteous fury of a Northerner. But unlike some of
our rebellions, his – however emotional – aren't gratuitous or moronic.
They're usually intelligent and logical.
Up here, we've a tradition of not keeping our heads down in tricky
situations. Both communities have a soft spot for disruptive influences,
from the 60s civil rights' firebrands, to the Rev Ian Paisley. So Roy
reaches into our very souls.
"The best thing about Roy was you knew where you stood with him," said David
Beckham. We like straight talkers. We're the antithesis of the
hail-fellow-well-met types you find across the Border. We don't generally
weigh up our words in advance to see which form could bring the most
personal advantage.
Keane has got where he is through hard work and talent. He's never curried
favour in his life. There isn't a false bone in his body, and that counts
for a lot. We've never got the hang of this Southern skill of saying one
thing and meaning another. We love you, or we hate your ******* guts, and
we'll tell you to your face either way.
So Keane declaring to Mick McCarthy, "I didn't rate you as a player, I don't
rate you as a manager, and I don't rate you as a person. The only reason
I've any dealings with you is that somehow you are the manager of my
country", might horrify other parts of the island, but it's poetry in
Ballymurphy and Ballymena.
"The only thing that ever came out of Cork were two traitors to the Republic
– Michael Collins and Roy Keane," a Northern nationalist told me. But that's
an unrepresentative opinion.
In republican heartlands, there's an innate empathy with Keane. He's never
been on his knees. He doesn't bow to authority just because it's there.
Respect has to be earned. There's nothing he won't challenge. Only dead fish
go with the flow, he famously said. He has a burning sense of injustice.
Despite all his money and success, he remains an outsider. He wouldn't
allow himself to become safe and smug. He might have spent his entire adult
life in Britain but he's not interested in the approval of its
establishment. He'll never be trotting to Buckingham Palace to pick up the
gong from the Queen.
Neither is he frightened of controversy on any issue. Few in local, let
alone national football, have raised their voices in protest at the sport's
sectarian nature in the North.
Roy Keane did. In his autobiography, he lambasted Linfield Football Club and
its supporters for their attitude to Catholics over the decades. He also
recounted the abominable sectarian behaviour of Northern Ireland fans at a
1993 World Cup qualifier against the Republic.
The Rev Ian Paisley would heartily disagree with many of Keane's views, yet
I suspect he's a secret fan. He'd admire that brutal honesty and
indifference to mainstream convention. Telling it as he sees it, has always
been a Paisley trademark. He's never mellowed with the years either.
Keane, in the twilight of his playing career, could easily have softened the
tone. He could have kept taking the cheques, dishing out the blarney,
heaping praise on the younger footballing generation, and pretending that
Manchester United have just hit a blip. Not a chance. He still sweats blood
and goes at everything all guns blazing.
He has that great Northern ability of spotting bull a mile off. Keane cuts
through the cant. Patrick Viera played for France while regularly protesting
his love for his native Senegal. "If you love Senegal so much, why don't you
just go and play for them?" Keane asked.
Keane doesn't possess the raw talent of that real Northern native, George
Best but, in terms of consistent quality as a person and player, there's no
comparison. If Best had the flair, Keane had the fire and commitment, and
that, ultimately counts for far more.
Sometimes, like many of us up here, he's a little too self-obsessed. But he
has that wonderfully redeeming black (Northern) humour. He can ridicule
himself. Asked if he would like to manage the Ireland team, he replied:
"Yeah. Nobody would play for me but we'd have great facilities!"
When Keane walked out in Saipan, my support went with him. I'd travelled to
Thailand to watch the World Cup at a normal hour. I cheered every team
Ireland played against. In my Keane shirt, I raised the roof when that final
penalty was taken – which probably wasn't the wisest thing to do in Paddy's
Irish bar in Chaweng.
I've supported Manchester United for over a quarter of a century. No more.
Wherever Roy goes, I'll follow. I'd even support Arsenal in the (thankfully
unlikely) event that he joins them.
Because we're loyal on this side of Border, although all too often to those
who don't deserve it. But, for once, there's a figure worthy of our
allegiance. Roy Keane – Southern born, with a Northern heart and soul.
