John O’Shea eases his athlete’s body into the sofa in the living room of his apartment in Sale, just outside Manchester. His feet stretch out in front of him, their reach diminishing the size of the room. Behind him stands a cornerpiece that holds two Ireland international caps; on the mantelpiece are photographs of him celebrating with his Manchester United teammates.
On television Gordon Strachan is being interviewed for Sky Sports News. Around the TV are stacks of videos and DVDs — American Pie, The Godfather, Rocky, Top Gun, Liar Liar and, right in front, the latest collection of the series The Sopranos. He has watched every episode because long ago Tony Soprano sucked him in. He has been unable to escape.
"Why is it," asks O’Shea, "that everyone gets a bit attracted to Tony Soprano? He’s a bad guy you can’t help liking. For me, a lot of it is his sense of family. Blood is thicker than water."
Through his final two years in secondary school, the soliciting never stopped. He went on trial to Arsenal, Liverpool, Celtic, Newcastle and all the others. "We spoke to every club," says O’Shea, "because who was I to refuse to talk with a club just because they were in the First Division?" It bothered him, though, that among all the suitors there was no Manchester United. Then, two months before his Leaving Cert, Ferguson’s brother, Martin, rang Tom Flynn, an old friend from the days when Martin managed Waterford United. "What about this young lad, John O’Shea?" he asked. "I’ll give you the number," said Flynn.
The O’Sheas met Alex Ferguson at n hotel in the centre of Manchester. In John’s mind, it was a done deal. United’s academy director Les Kershaw had said the club would give him a three-year professional contract. "You’re a big lad," said Ferguson on meeting the 17-year-old. "What are we agreeing here, a three-month trial, isn’t it?" O’Shea looked anxiously to Kershaw.
"No, boss, it’s different with John. We’re giving him a three-year contract."
"Oh," said Ferguson, slightly embarrassed. O’Shea exhaled with relief and listened to what was being offered. "We’ll give you the best of everything here," said the manager. "You’ll get the best opportunity possible to make the first team. But we’re not going to give it to you on a plate. You will have to earn it."
In joining United, O’Shea accepted £15,000 a year, about a third of what he could have earned at another Premiership club. "It is not about money," Ferguson said more than once. "What we’re offering you is something better. It’s the chance to learn in the best environment."
That was all O’Shea wanted. His Leaving Cert results came later that summer: 375 points, offers from any number of universities and plenty of praise from Mary, his mother.
He stays on his toes because he understands the preciousness of the opportunity. On the day that his great mate Paul Kennedy took his own life, his dad rang his United teammate, Jimmy Davis, and asked if he would mind stepping into the room and being with John when he called with the terrible news. It was the time they were in Antwerp, John and Jimmy thrown together, finding they had much in common and having a great time.
A year-and-a-half later, Jimmy’s own life ended tragically in a car accident on the M40. "The loss to both families was incredible," says O’Shea. "Kenno was my link to all my friends back home. We grew up together, first cousins and close friends. Going home for the weekends, I would ask Dad to first drop me at Kenno’s house in Bishopsgrove, so I could catch up on everything. His parents couldn’t have done any more for him. We’ll never know why he did it but we all miss him."
One morning at training around the beginning of the season, he knew something was wrong by the look on Quintin Fortune’s face. "It’s Jimmy," said Fortune, "he died last night in a car accident." They all went down to Birmingham for the funeral. O’Shea and a few of the lads who had known Davis best carried the coffin.
"I’d got to know Jimmy’s family real well. His mum, his little brother Ryan, who’s the spit of Jimmy, and even though it was a desperately sad occasion, it was good to be there for the funeral. Jimmy’s sister came up to me and said Jimmy had often spoken about the time we spent in Antwerp, how much he enjoyed it."
That pleased him. So, too, was he struck by the fact that in Kenno’s note to his family, he had sent a message to his mate: "You’re on the right track, keep it going, you’ll get there." He dare not blow the opportunity. "I keep thinking, ‘You have been given this skill and this chance, don’t let it go.’ If I abuse it, I am not just letting myself down, I would be letting an awful lot of people down. The list is too long to bear thinking about."
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,2093-922183,00.html