Page 65 - Alex Ferguson: My Autobiography

It was frightening to watch. And I’m from Glasgow.
After Roy had left, Carlos saw I was quite upset. Never in his life, he said, had he witnessed a
scene of that nature. He called it the worst imaginable spectacle in the life of a professional football
club. ‘He needs to go, Carlos,’ I said. ‘One hundred per cent,’ he said. ‘Get rid of him.’

I was away until the following Wednesday, but phoned David Gill from Dubai and told him, ‘We
need to move Roy out.’ His response was that, from the accounts I had given him, there was no
choice. He said he would need to speak to the Glazers, who approved the move. I agreed with David
Gill that the club would pay Roy’s contract up and honour his testimonial. No one could say we had
treated Roy unjustly.
When I returned from the Middle East, David instructed me that the Glazers were coming over on
the Friday, and that he had phoned Michael Kennedy to say we wanted a meeting with him. We called

Michael and Roy into the meeting and set out our decision, with all the details.
Roy said publicly later that he was disappointed I didn’t end his Manchester United career on my
own. But after the original confrontation, I was finished with him. There was no way I wanted another
war with him or even to get involved with him again.
I walked out to the training pitch and told the players, and registered the shock on each face.
I always felt that my best moments as a manager were when I made quick decisions based on

irrefutable fact, on conviction. It was so clear to me what I had to do to stem this crisis. If I had
prevaricated, it would have given Roy more strength in the dressing room, more confidence in his
own mind that he had been right, more time to convince everyone he was correct in his behaviour.
And he was not right. What he did was wrong.
There was so much to look back on, so much to process as Roy Keane became an ex-Manchester
United player. High on the list would be the 2002 World Cup, and Roy flying home after a bust-up
with Mick McCarthy, the Republic of Ireland manager.

My brother Martin had taken me for a week’s holiday for my 60th birthday. At dinner I didn’t take
my phone along with me, but Martin had taken his, and as we left, it rang. It was Michael Kennedy
saying he had been trying to contact me. Michael made it clear there had been an eruption in Saipan,
where the Republic of Ireland team had arrived to prepare for the World Cup. ‘You need to talk to
him. You’re the only man he’ll listen to,’ Michael said. I was baffled. I couldn’t imagine what
Michael could have been so distressed about. He told me the story of Roy’s confrontation with Mick

McCarthy. The number Michael gave me was no good so I suggested Roy should ring me instead.
Keane’s voice came on the line. ‘Roy, what on earth are you thinking about?’ Roy unspooled all his
anger at McCarthy. I said: ‘Calm down. A bit of advice. You cannot afford to make your children go
to school every day with this as the background to their lives. Think of your family. It will be
horrendous. Forget the World Cup finals. This will be the biggest story all summer.’
He knew I was right. I told him to get back in there with McCarthy, just the two of them, sort it out
and tell the manager he would be playing. Roy agreed. But by the time he went back, Mick had

already given a press conference to explain what had been going on. There was no way back for Roy.
I defended Roy to the hilt because he had come from Manchester United, with the high standards
we had. Going to a substandard training base, with no training kit, is a reasonable issue to get angry
about, and as captain he had every reason to complain. The question in life is: how far do you take a
grievance?
As bad as the conditions were in Korea, Roy shouldn’t have pushed his anger to such levels. But

that was Roy. He was a man of extremes.
I always protected my players and Roy was no exception. It was my job. For that reason I can’t