Keane's lost his voice

Similarly, when the Manchester United faithful turned up to see their team off ahead of a pre-season tour to South Africa, Keane says he is proud to play for a club with such strong links to the fans. Yet when the Irish supporters wanted to say goodbye to their team prior to the World Cup finals, he craves a private check-in and a private lounge.

There are, don't get me wrong, some good things about this book, the unnecessary foul and abusive language notwithstanding. It is frighteningly honest and particularly poignant when Keane tells the story of his progression from Cork's tough Northside to footballing riches.

He has always looked after his family and is both appreciative and protective of them throughout his tome. Legend has it, by the way, that his father Mossie became known as "Sterling" Moss on Shandon Street in Cork once Roy joined Nottingham Forest and started sending cheques home every Monday. And I loved the story - long rumoured but now confirmed - about how Keane bought a Rolex for £11,000 thinking it was £1100. Although Lee Sharpe, who had introduced him to the happy jeweller, promised not to tell the United dressing-room, somehow it leaked out!

Keane's observations on other topics have been well documented although his sympathy for Eric Cantona's Selhurst Park attack on a fan seems as incomprehensible as his own tackle on Alf-Inge Haaland.

Reaction in Ireland to the book has been mixed. Those of the Dunphy school of journalism - and there are a few - are mounting a stern defence, although others see it as patchy and alarmingly inaccurate.

For instance, no one bothered to check if McCarthy had actually accused Keane of feigning injury in that famous Saipan row this summer. I have 20 witnesses who swear that he didn't.

Other mistakes are more basic, such as Richard Dunne's transformation into Derek Dunne, and Niall Quinn's presence on a flight from Cyprus to Barcelona when he was in Sunderland being treated for injury. Now, I know I am setting myself up for a fall here. The anoraks will have the microscopes out looking for errors when McCarthy's World Cup diary hits the shelves next month.

The one thing I can promise them is that they will hear Mark's voice, sorry Mick's.

In the meantime, I will borrow a phrase from Dunphy's past, a phrase he once used to describe Michel Platini on Irish television. This is a good book, not a great book.

If you want to read a great football biography, then check out Tony Cascarino's Full Time or It's Only A Game, written by a former Millwall player many years ago. His name? Eamon Dunphy.