KEANE: I WANTED TO WALK

I went to bed but never slept a wink. After the Poyet incident I spoke to the
manager about giving up the captaincy.

Maybe that would take the pressure off. We decided no.

Some time during the night I decided: Give it up, Roy. You've turned 30—get
out, get away, do something else. You've got to stop hurting yourself, hurting
those you love.

I talked to Theresa. She argued I would miss it. I said I wouldn't. Anything
would be better than this madness, getting angry and frustrated, lashing out.

I felt I'd lost the argument that some players were in the comfort zone. Too
many people were content with what they had. It wasn't for me. I should go.

Next morning I was waiting for the gaffer at the training ground at eight
o'clock. I told him I wanted to pack it in.

I'm not doing my stuff, we're not doing our stuff. I can't take any more of it. He
said it was a knee-jerk reaction. We talked for a long time, me more than him.

He understood. He agreed about the complacency, things falling apart, where
we were headed if we didn't take the next step.

I insisted my mind was made up and said I wouldn't play against Lille in the
Champions' League on Tuesday.

Sunday afternoon I walked our dog Triggs a long way, running the options
through my head. Another club, somewhere sunny. At least I could be
miserable in a warm climate.

I loved my football, really loved it. But could I play for another club? My heart
was in Manchester United. And if I couldn't play with my heart I couldn't play.

My mind was settled. I felt calm, a big weight off my shoulders. Things happen
for a reason. I wasn't scared of life without football. Financially I could survive.
I talked to Theresa again. She said she'd back me whatever.

Monday I stayed home and walked the dog. Peace, no regrets, off the
treadmill. The gaffer's secretary rang to find out where I was. Theresa took the
call, said I was out and didn't want to talk to anybody. In the afternoon, he
called round my house. He sat down with Theresa and me. You've been
taking too much on board regarding results and bad performances, Roy.

You'd be mad to leave football. If you walk away now while you're young you'll
regret it for the rest of your life.

Theresa backed him up. Play tomorrow, Roy. We'll solve the problems. I told
him my mind was made up. My whole being was telling me I was right.

I feel I'm doing the right thing, gaffer. I can't stand the bluffing and bull***t
anymore.

"Think about it, Roy," he said. "Come in tomorrow, if you want."

I thought about it. I talked it through with Theresa. I decided to play against
Lille. Alex Ferguson had stood by me. Quitting would be a slap in the face for
him, the last thing he needed when the club was struggling. I carried on for
him.