– Newcastle, Charlton, West Brom and Southampton. You still have to go out and win them, but these were games that we would have expected to win. Although I always had a bit of hassle against Newcastle. I’d been sent off twice up there. I’d had my battles with Shearer and Rob Lee. I always thought they were an arrogant bunch, for a club that had won fuck all. We always got decent results at St James’ Park; itwasn’t a bad place to play. But as for the Toon Army, the Geordies, the hostile reception – I never fell for all that crap.
We drew with Fulham, away, but then we had another run of four wins in December and over the holiday period. We beat Crystal Palace, Bolton, Villa and Middlesbrough. We were third in the table on New Year’s Day, behind Chelsea and Arsenal.
I’d met Brian Kerr, the new Ireland manager, just after he took the job, in 2003. We’d talked about the possibility of me playing for Ireland again. There were six Euro qualifying games left. I’d eventually decided against, because I felt I had enough on my plate trying to get back to full fitness; this was just after my hip operation.
Sometime later I met Brian again, at the Alderley Edge Hotel, in Manchester. I’d been doing some promotional work for the Irish Guide Dogs and I’d mentioned in an interview that I felt there was unfinished business. I was feeling fitter, and stronger, by now. I think the suggestion for the meeting came through my solicitor, Michael Kennedy. We discussed me going back for the 2006 World Cup qualifiers. I knew I’d be under massive pressure from United not to do it. I was at an age where the manager would have thought my priority should have been Manchester United, particularly with my history of injury problems. Also, going back to play for Ireland, the added games, and after all that had happened after Saipan – all the hassle and negativity – it would be putting a lot of extra pressure on me. United were paying my wages; I could see their point of view.
The decision was straightforward – but emotional. I did feel that there was unfinished business. I was thinking about my family. I’m proud of being Irish and being from Cork. I think that feeling has got stronger as I’ve matured. I think when you go and live in a different country – even though England is onlyacross the road – you can lose a sense of where you’re from. It’s natural – you adapt and integrate. You change your ways and ideas. My kids were born and reared in England. They often tease me about how they support England. But as you get older, there’s a point – maybe a feeling – where you go, ‘Don’t forget what it’s all about; don’t forget where you come from.’ I didn’t want to let the family down.
If I’d looked at it coldly I wouldn’t have gone back. There was my age; I was thirty-three. Physically – and mentally – it would be another burden. I’d be playing in the middle of the park; the demands would be huge. People would expect miracles. And I knew there’d be consequences at United. I knew there’d be a price to pay. The manager wouldn’t talk to me. But he – they – couldn’t stop me.
There were no problems when I went back into the squad. I didn’t bat an eyelid. I’d had no disagreement with any of the players.
I like Brian, and the only thing I found a little bit strange was that I wasn’t the captain. I’d been captain before, and we’d had success; we’d got to the World Cup finals in Japan and Korea – and, of course, I was the captain at United.
But Kenny Cunningham was the captain. I’d played with Kenny over the years. He was popular with the players. He’d always be organising card schools and quizzes and whip-rounds for the bus driver and for the woman who’d served us tea in 19-fuckin’-52. But most of the lads liked him.
I’d always been a bit blasé about the captain’s role. I’d often said that it was only about going up for the toss. I think I didn’t
We drew with Fulham, away, but then we had another run of four wins in December and over the holiday period. We beat Crystal Palace, Bolton, Villa and Middlesbrough. We were third in the table on New Year’s Day, behind Chelsea and Arsenal.
I’d met Brian Kerr, the new Ireland manager, just after he took the job, in 2003. We’d talked about the possibility of me playing for Ireland again. There were six Euro qualifying games left. I’d eventually decided against, because I felt I had enough on my plate trying to get back to full fitness; this was just after my hip operation.
Sometime later I met Brian again, at the Alderley Edge Hotel, in Manchester. I’d been doing some promotional work for the Irish Guide Dogs and I’d mentioned in an interview that I felt there was unfinished business. I was feeling fitter, and stronger, by now. I think the suggestion for the meeting came through my solicitor, Michael Kennedy. We discussed me going back for the 2006 World Cup qualifiers. I knew I’d be under massive pressure from United not to do it. I was at an age where the manager would have thought my priority should have been Manchester United, particularly with my history of injury problems. Also, going back to play for Ireland, the added games, and after all that had happened after Saipan – all the hassle and negativity – it would be putting a lot of extra pressure on me. United were paying my wages; I could see their point of view.
The decision was straightforward – but emotional. I did feel that there was unfinished business. I was thinking about my family. I’m proud of being Irish and being from Cork. I think that feeling has got stronger as I’ve matured. I think when you go and live in a different country – even though England is onlyacross the road – you can lose a sense of where you’re from. It’s natural – you adapt and integrate. You change your ways and ideas. My kids were born and reared in England. They often tease me about how they support England. But as you get older, there’s a point – maybe a feeling – where you go, ‘Don’t forget what it’s all about; don’t forget where you come from.’ I didn’t want to let the family down.
If I’d looked at it coldly I wouldn’t have gone back. There was my age; I was thirty-three. Physically – and mentally – it would be another burden. I’d be playing in the middle of the park; the demands would be huge. People would expect miracles. And I knew there’d be consequences at United. I knew there’d be a price to pay. The manager wouldn’t talk to me. But he – they – couldn’t stop me.
There were no problems when I went back into the squad. I didn’t bat an eyelid. I’d had no disagreement with any of the players.
I like Brian, and the only thing I found a little bit strange was that I wasn’t the captain. I’d been captain before, and we’d had success; we’d got to the World Cup finals in Japan and Korea – and, of course, I was the captain at United.
But Kenny Cunningham was the captain. I’d played with Kenny over the years. He was popular with the players. He’d always be organising card schools and quizzes and whip-rounds for the bus driver and for the woman who’d served us tea in 19-fuckin’-52. But most of the lads liked him.
I’d always been a bit blasé about the captain’s role. I’d often said that it was only about going up for the toss. I think I didn’t
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