The next day we had our first full training session with the team. Some of the lads had played the live TV game on the Sunday on Sky. Stoke had played Hull in an uneventful 0-0 and Glenn Whelan, Paul McShane, Marc Wilson, Shane Long and Robbie Brady had arrived later than the rest. So had Jon Walters. I had had problems with Walters during my time at Ipswich. ‘Maybe this time things would be different’ I thought. Let by gones be by gones Roy’.
Down at breakfast Martin is sitting chatting with some bloke called Steve Guppy. ‘What’s he doing here?’ I thought. Guppy had been appointed as ‘set piece expert’ by O’Neill and this immediately set the alarm bells ringing in my head. I wasn’t consulted over the decision.
As part of the management staff I decided to sit down next to them. The conversation is strained. A new goalkeeping coach Seamus McDonagh completes the staff. He was someone who I barely knew of but was prepared to give him a chance. Then he opened his mouth. It was the last time I didn’t hate him.
It’s 9.45am. We are boarding the bus to make the short journey up the road for our training session. It’s scheduled for 10am. But there’s a problem. Some of the lads are late. It quickly becomes apparent that it’s some of the lads who arrived late last night.
“We’ll give them two minutes Martin,” I said. For once Martin agrees with me. Most of them just make it. Except Jon Walters. ‘Hello?’ I thought. “F**k him. We are going without him,” I roared and instructed the driver to go.
Late for his first day of training. I remember my first day of training for United. I paid a taxi driver to drive ahead of me to show me the way to the training ground in case I would be late. I was an hour early. I know it’s only a small thing but stuff like that usually betrays an attitude to the job. Walters’ timekeeping told me something deeper about his character. I would file that away. For once an Ireland training session is properly structured. I had been up at 4am setting out the cones before going back to bed for a few hours sleep
Under Mick and his shadow Ian Evans some of the players were standing around idle while they set up the possession games. A f**king farce it was. I was going to show them *******s what a proper training session was like. During the warm up a taxi arrives. It’s Jon Walters all of 15 mins late. He storms up to the training pitch. He’s angry. I tell him to hurry up and join the rest.
Later on in the session Martin sets up an 11 v 11 game. Bibs v non bibs. I immediately regret my decision to stay. Glenn Whelan and Paul McShane are f**king useless. I offer some encouragement but it’s wasted on these fools. Glenn has been a regular in the Stoke team. I couldn’t see why. Pass after pass went astray. “Will you f**king find your man!!’’ I shouted He looked at me with a blank stare.“Hello? Is anybody home?” I thought. McShane is worse. Couldn’t mark a statue that lad.
I decide to join in the second half. I’m now on Whelan’s team. Walters is on the other side. After a few mins Walters comes at me with an over the top tackle. He’s obviously ****ed off at us leaving without him. He catches me on the ankle. I went down. I’m ok although I have am badly bruised. I continue. The ball finds Walters over by the touchline. I hit him hard. “Take that ya ****!”. I catch him with a kung fu kick that catches him in his chest and sends him flying. “Don’t ever be late for a bus again you scouse ****. And tell your pal Wilson he can fook off as well.’’
Martin runs over. “There was no need for that Roy,” he said. “Go f**k yourself,” I replied. “I could have you shot you motherless free state gobsh*te,” he said. “Sorry Martin.’’
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