In 2001 Roy Keane, the captain of the great, treble-winning Manchester United team, was annoyed with a Manchester City player who, Keane felt, had ‘disrespected him’. Which is a word generally used by people unaccustomed to so many syllables, as a declaration of a fight. Not even a declaration, more a prelude. And because Roy Keane is an obnoxious and violently pugnacious asshole who, if he hadn’t been such an amazingly good footballer would have had a stellar career as a terrorist, hit-man or executioner, fighting wasn’t what he chose. Instead he chose to inflict damage on the man who ‘dissed’ him. And in such a calculated and cynical manner that why he was not arrested afterwards is still a mystery to many.

Keane had a long-standing injury which needed medical attention which would take 6 months to recover from. So he planned his surgery for the end of the season knowing he wouldn’t be available to play for a long while. And he chose Manchester City as his last match. In the dying stages of that match, he picked his moment, when the ‘disrespecter’, Alf-Inge Haaland, was running with the ball. And Roy Keane just flew in and broke his leg. Nothing mis-timed, in fact his timing was perfect to inflict the damage, nothing ‘accidental’, even ‘negligent’. It was just ‘job done’. Roy turned, didn’t even look to see the red card and walked off the pitch. And in case anyone should be of the view that ‘it was just an bad tackle’, the man actually wrote of the incident, complete with intention and pre-meditation, in his autobiography a few years later.

But, like any good legend, the wounded man had a son!!! And Alfie’s ‘little boy’ turned into possibly the best striker the world has yet seen. That is no hyperbole, the man is outstanding. Skilful, talented, fast-as-fuck, strong-as-an-ox with an unerring eye for goal. He just focuses on the ball. If players get in the way they are not pushed, nor shoved, nor kicked, but just ignored as he steamrollers his way towards his target. A masterclass in ‘focus’. And so effective that no team as yet has worked out quite how to handle a flying giant whose immense appetite is fed by the likes of Kevin de Bruyne, Bernardo Silva and Jack Grealish. Never mind Phil Foden.

And yesterday, Alfie Haaland was in the stands as his son Erling scored yet another hat-trick. This time against Manchester United, with Roy Keane sitting in the Sky Sports box in his anointed role as chief moaner about why Man United are nuffink like as good as when I played for them, they’re a disgrace and everyone should be ashamed and break more legs. Because the man is, if nothing else (and there really is not much else) passionate about ‘his team’.

Well fuck you, Roy, you can get revenge without sending people to hospital. I really hope Alfie and Erling spent a long time watching the little Irish shit squirming. In slow motion.

Happy Monday

A xxxx