A friend of Kenny Dalglish’s contacted me to inform me that the Blackburn manager wanted to meet me. Alan Shearer had just rejected a move to Man United — from Southampton — to join Blackburn, whose drive for the Premier League title was being funded by Jack Walker.
An arrangement was made to meet Dalglish and Ray Harford, the Blackburn coach, at David O’Leary’s house in Hertfordshire. They asked about my contractual situation at Forest. When I told them I had been offered a new contract, they urged me not to sign. And if I did sign, to make sure I inserted a clause that would allow me to leave Forest if they were relegated. It was made clear to me that Blackburn would be willing to pay a British transfer record of £3.5 million to close the deal.
I knew "tapping" players in this way was against the rules, but par for the course in the game. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the duplicity involved, but knowing there was an alternative to going down with Forest enabled me to negotiate from a position of strength.
After some haggling, a fee of £4 million was agreed. I was given permission to talk to Blackburn. The main issue in my discussions with them was wages. I’d heard that Shearer was on £500,000 a year, so that’s what I demanded. After some bargaining, I accepted their offer of £400,000 a year. Dalglish’s obvious intelligence and cool persona impressed me. Terms agreed, I was ready to sign. But when Dalglish phoned Ewood Park, the office staff had left for the weekend. "Don’t worry," he said, "you can sign the forms on Monday." We shook hands.
I went home to Cork for the weekend and at lunchtime on the Sunday the phone rang. It was Alex Ferguson.
"Roy, it’s Alex Ferguson here. Have you signed any forms?" "No, but I shook hands on the deal and I’m due to sign the forms tomorrow."
"Why don’t you come to Manchester and have a chat with me before you do anything?" Wow! Manchester United. The Premier League champions. My mam and dad, Hilary and my brothers are all standing in the hall looking at me. Like they’re in shock. My family were United daft.
"Yes, but I have agreed the deal," I tell Ferguson.
"You’ve signed nothing. Come over for a chat."
From that moment, I was never going to sign for any other club. In my heart of hearts I knew I could never refuse to sign for the world’s most famous football club.
I phoned Dalglish to tell him I’d changed my mind about joining Blackburn. He went crazy.
"What the f*** do you mean?" I told him I’d talked to Ferguson.
"We shook hands on a deal. You can’t back out now," he screamed.
"Look, I’m sorry, I really am," I told him, "but I’ve got my future to think about, I’m entitled to that."
"You’re entitled to nothing except the commitment you made to me on Friday."
"I’m sorry, if you’d had the forms ready, I would have signed on Friday."
"Nobody does this to me, nobody does this to Kenny Dalglish. You’re a wee bastard and you won’t get away with this." Kenny wasn’t cool any longer.
I felt very uneasy about the situation. But here was Kenny Dalglish insisting that I honour a deal I hadn’t signed. The same Kenny Dalglish who’d spent several months "tapping" me up behind Brian Clough’s back. The more he swore at me, the less my conscience bothered me.’