ROY SETS THE STANDARDS

Last updated : 13 September 2002 By Editor
Martin Samuel in The Times talks about the quality of Roy Keane's book
despite all the problems it seems to be causing.

The Situationists Internationale movement published its anarchist manifesto
in a book with a sandpaper cover. Good gag. It was designed literally to
destroy everything on the shelf. And maybe Roy Keane is a Situationist, too,
because day by day his autobiography is eating the conventions of sporting
literature alive.

Like the Ireland players who last week travelled to Moscow first class and
stayed in a grand hotel with impressive facilities, the reading public might
one day have a lot to thank Keane for. Never again will it have to wade
through Alan Shearer creosoting a fence or John Lyall's wife forgetting to
put pearl barley in the broth on the afternoon he was sacked as West Ham
United manager after 34 years at the club. ("It was one of those days," he
wrote insightfully, equating the bitter termination of a lifetime of professional devotion with a minor culinary faux pas most likely overcome by
seasoning.)

A tedious tale sold on name alone cannot cut it post-Keane. When David
Beckham releases his "first real book" - a phrase that came as a surprise to
the writer given the thankless task of contributing 25,000 ghost-written
words to his last, obviously pretend, one - it will need to be raw and
revelatory or get laughed into the bargain buckets.

Adam Crozier's take on this issue is a joy. "As England captain I'd fully
expect him to ensure what he is writing is acceptable to everyone," he said.
"I think David is the sort to make sure he writes the right kind of book."
Maybe. But who would want to read that? Not me. A 200-page glorified Parky
interview with a sticker on the cover reading: "Passed by Adam Crozier as
acceptable to everyone". Give me Keane's dark poetry any day. Give me the
truth, however unpalatable.

I am not one of those who claim to admire Keane's honesty. I expect it. I
expect anybody presumptuous enough to want me to pay for their thoughts to
be honest. Otherwise, what would be the point? When Beckham was
publicising the figment of our imagination that is Beckham: My World
(certainly not published by Hodder and not still available at WH Smith priced
£13.59), he gave interviews to various newspapers. In one, the writer claimed
that when the name of Glenn Hoddle, the former England manager, was
mentioned, Beckham responded with "a flying fist gesture". We all know what
that means. Put bluntly, Beckham thinks Hoddle is a W and five asterisks (as
we say in newspapers). And I will expect to read that phrase - or a less vulgar
adaptation of it - in his first real autobiography. Or I will know I am being lied
to.

Because that is what Keane's sandpaper-coated recollections have
destroyed: the art of airbrushing and flimflam. Of under-seasoning the soup,
sitting on the freshly creosoted fence, saying one thing and meaning another.
I intend to put his autobiography alongside the others on my shelves and
rejoice that by tomorrow all that will be left of football-speak is a small
pile of Situationist dust.