If Roy Keane had been a rocker

28th Apr 2008

If Roy Keane had been a Rocker
Dan Druff

The other night I had a dream about the Feis Maitiu. There I was in my grass stained short pants and wrinkled Barrys-Tea Cork jersey holding our classes' lyrics in one hand and the aul lade locking on to the other paw.

Eventually the old feen on the mic with the greasy comb-over and the snuff hanging out of his nose, calls out the name of our school.

"Gwan up now and don't embarrass us boy", the aul lade says.

Roy chose bass at rock school. He didn't like the flamboyance required forlead guitar.

Sound mam. We're all fierce jittery and all the lads look dead serious - no messing or anything. Mullins, the cry baby next to me, looks like he's going to burst as usual and there's a stain on his pants that might be something that makes me look away. He did one at the communion as well last year while he was bringing up the gifts. What a dose.

The funny thing is that Mullins fancied himself as a singer. He's whimpering away telling us that he wants to be on You're a Star but I've let him know that its only 1985 in this dream and he'll have to settle for Jo Maxi or Dempseys Den until the other show gets invented.

"A Song for Every Season" is what we've been practicing for weeks with Mrs. O'Driscoll but, for some mysterious reason, when she counts us in we're all singing that Umbrella song by Rihanna from last summer.

All the crowd are laughing at us and the shams from Mayfield, who are up next are commenting on our chances of winning by crossing their necks with their index fingers. They're right. We're dead. Just like last year. Umber-ella-ella-ella-ella.

When Mayfield take to the stage to sing "Oh Happy Days" they've got the gospel cloaks on and are swinging in time and everything. A small young fella at the front is doing soprano and all sorts of Alicia Keys stuff.

Suddenly disco lights come on, smoke comes out from under his feet, there's an orchestra and the whole Feis Maitiu hall turns into a nightclub and the crowd are worshipping the young fella on the stage.

The closer I look (without trying to wake up obviously), it seems the small young fella is the bulb off Roy Keane. Is it him I wonder? I slip between a few adults and step a bit closer for a lamp. Yeah it's him alright. Mad!

Now on his knees gesturing towards the heavens as his classmates 'shooo-wop' behind him, he's just about to finish with a screaming crescendo. An old doll next to me collapses just as the roof of the building comes off to reveal the night sky and the side of the RTE building on Father Mathew Street.

Next thing the fireworks go off and the Champions League theme song comes on and Roy floats into the night sky. I think he's waving at us but it's more of typical Keane acknowledgement, you know, the familiar three or four claps just in front of his left shoulder to the crowd before heading for the dressing rooms.

Youths like to stand around in Cobh.

Pascal Sheehy has climbed up the mast on the RTE building and is doing a report on the boy wonder for Ann Doyle. Below the crowds are shouting 'Keano! Keano!" as he heads for stardom and a career…in the music industry.

Now Pascal has taken over as narrator describing what Roy's career has involved so far and what lies ahead for this wonder crooner. Strangely, I think to myself, there's no mention of soccer, Cobh Ramblers or Rockmout. I must be mixing him up with someone else.

Ann Doyle asks Pascal about the contract that Roy had with the Billy Barry Kids in Dublin but she is told that the Rebel county's prodigy hated it, came back to Cork and began writing letters to clubs in England. Now he's been signed by some talent agency in England. The same one that Madonna and Michael Jackson are signed to apparently.

Pascal's saying its all about hard work, determination and grit now as they show videos of Keane getting into a confrontation with Michael Jackson. They're squaring up to each other and Roy makes a go for him but he's held back by Paul McCartney from the Beatles who has descended on a wire. They burst into song singing "I'm a lover not a fighter" and some of Jackson's greatest hits including "Bad" with a solo from Roy on guitar.

Now Pascal is talking about someone else and I can't seem to hear the Boy and his new friends. When the song is over I want to ask Roy about the football but somebody's talking over the tune in an unmistakable Kerry accent.

"Here…quieten down there Pascal I can't hear the tune."

"The Cork players and the county board met for over nine hours without…"

Seriously Pascal. I'll lose the rag now if you don't zip it.

"In fact it looks like their participation in the league is now doubtful…."

PASCAL! WOULD YOU EVER….

The brother comes in and pulls back the curtains.

"C'mere fella get up for work…and you'd want to turn down that radio. It's on all night."

I never saw Keane do the moonwalk in the end but reaslising his career wasn't just a few duets with Wacko Jacko I'll sleep easier tonight.