Roy Keane Euro 2016 Diary Part 2....

Day 5...

There’s a video that’s been doing the rounds which would appear to suggest I’m a bit of a joker – so I’d just like to set the record straight. Seamus our goalkeeping coach was warming up Darren Randolph.

He was striking a few balls at him, nothing ground breaking. One of this shots went into the top corner. The next thing he’s whipped his jersey up over his head and started celebrating like Ravanelli. Schoolboy stuff. ‘I’m not having that’ I thought. He stepped up to take another shot - started taunting Darren about sticking it in the same place. Just as he was about to strike the ball I kicked another one into his path and he ended up on his arse. ‘Jaysus Roy, I’ve just had a hip replacement’ he said. I had a little chuckle to myself. Back in the hotel that night I caught Aiden posting the Vine of the incident on Facebook. I told him for every hit it got I’d be dishing out one of my own.

Some of the lads wanted to watch the England v Wales game, so I decided to put a portable black & white telly up in the rec room for a couple of hours. I must be getting soft in my old age. The game itself was alright I suppose. The worst thing about it was having to listen to Robbie Savage. His commentary was the worst thing I’ve heard since his ‘whaaaaasup’ voicemail greeting. Bloody muppet. I told them to turn the volume off and made Glenn Whelan and Stephen Ward do the commentary instead. They did alright I suppose for a first attempt. Glenn needs to work on his summarising though.

So we headed into the Belgium game encouraged by our own performance against the Swedes and the fact the Belgians were about as useful as the lid on a McFlurry against the Italians. But it couldn’t have gone any worse. Tree-nil. Shane Long was complaining about being sandwiched in between two fly-kicks but I’ve seen the replays and to be fair to the lads I thought they were decent tackles. When we got back to the hotel I asked to speak to the chef. I told him I wanted anything Belgian sounding taken off the menu, Belgian chocolate, Stella Artois – that sort of thing. So we gathered for dinner and the atmosphere was pretty sombre. I was browsing the menu and noticed they were offering Brussel sprouts. I lost it. I asked to speak to the chef again but apparently he was hiding in the toilets. I got a permanent marker and scribbled out the word Brussel on all the menus. Aiden had already ordered his dinner and when it arrived the plate was loaded with them. I made him stand on the table and his sprouts while the rest of the squad did press-ups.

So it’s down to the last game against Italy now. We know what they’re all about. It’ll be ninety odd minutes of diddy-nips and Chinese burns when the ref has his back turned. Sneaky. Niggly. The North, Wales – even England have qualified. We can’t be letting the side down by getting eliminated. Besides, the people of France need the Irish fans here. I’ve seen a few videos circulating of them singing lullabies to babies and changing tyres. Rumour has it they’re working on a cure for hay fever and are just days away from a breakthrough. We can’t go home now. I watched a video of Italy’s first two games with Martin. The Italian defence is tighter than Rod Stewart. Martin thinks James McCarthy might be the key to unlocking their back four. I like the lad but I had to run his name through genes reunited to see if he was any relation to you know who...