John Dolan: 24 years and a Saipan film later ... I still think Roy was in wrong

There is a scene at the end of the new film Saipan - about the infamous bust-up between Roy Keane and Mick McCarthy before the 2002 World Cup - where the skipper insists: “I was forced into a corner.”

When I heard that, I shook my head in the cinema: Roy, you forced yourself into a corner, boy, and ain’t that the truth.

I believed that the Cork man was in the wrong 24 years ago, when he was sent home from a training camp ahead of the World Cup by his manager. I’ve believed it ever since, and the new film released on New Year’s Day does nothing to shake that opinion.

In fact, my biggest takeaway from Saipan was that McCarthy was dealt a poor hand by the production.

Actor Steve Coogan portrays the gruff Yorkshire man largely as a bumbling buffoon, out of his depth, wilting under pressure, indecisive, and prone to making bizarre asides while weirdly obsessed with DIY when talking to his wife.

It felt like Coogan’s alter ego Alan Partridge had been transported from a mundane hotel in Norwich to a slightly more upmarket version on the Pacific island of Saipan.

McCarthy’s reputation has been forever tarnished in Ireland by the events of Saipan, and 24 years on, the film does nothing to right that wrong. Little wonder he was reportedly unhappy with his portrayal on the big screen.

However, if you fancy seeing the film, don’t let that put you off - it is very good overall. Cork actor Éanna Hardwicke is excellent as Keane - even though both he and Coogan don’t really capture the physical likenesses of either man. McCarthy, in particular, was only 43 in Saipan and a handsome and commanding physical presence, a long way from Coogan’s diminishing portrayal.

Plus, at a rather apt 90 minutes long (with no interval!) Saipan is much easier on your bum cheeks than the gargantuan three hours, 17 minutes of the new Avatar flick.

Saipan points out at the outset that it is a dramatisation of events, and many characters - the FAI stooge, a journalist who broke the story that eventually did for Keane, and even the players - bear no resemblance to the real ones.

However, the one scene that you sense is eerily accurate is the final showdown when Keane lambasts McCarthy in a lengthy, fiery, foul-mouthed rant that signalled the point of no return for the leader, captain, and legend of that Irish team.

Keane was furious at what he saw as sub-standard preparation at the pre-tournament camp - including a poor training pitch and lack of footballs - and Hardwicke’s pitch-perfect Cork accent strikes verbal blow after verbal blow at its target, in front of all and sundry.

Even the most avid of Keane fans must, in those moments, realise that their man was the master of his own destiny all along, and ultimately, with that rant, the master of his own downfall.

In the face of this maelstrom of rage, McCarthy cuts a pitiful, pathetic figure.

In 2002, and again this week on seeing the film, I have struggled to name a single thing that he could have done to avoid the exit of Keane - save from resigning himself, or perhaps telling his best player to swerve Saipan and meet the team in Japan for the tournament itself.

The poor arrangements in Saipan were down to the FAI, not the manager, and Keane appears in the film to be a simmering bomb waiting to explode at any time. The fact he went off in front of McCarthy was surely a case of the boss being the wrong man in the wrong place at the wrong time, despite Keane’s hurtful personal jibes about his abilities as a player, manager, and man.

I left the cinema wondering if there can be many people - even here in Keane’s heartland of Cork - who still believe he was not at least 90% responsible for his exit from a World Cup he would surely have graced with his brilliance.

It’s hard to credit now, but polls in the wake of Keane’s departure from Saipan suggested that Irish people firmly backed the player over the manager.

Sixty-one per cent nationally felt that Keane’s criticisms were justified, a figure that rose to 71% among men in Munster (the women of Munster were not so generous in their appraisal of their local boy).

McCarthy’s disapproval rating on the Saipan row was 55% nationally, rising to 71% among Munster men, a figure I still find hard to justify.

Loyalty to Keane has clearly stayed firm on Leeside ever since, especially in recent years when he has been reinvented as a devil-may-care pundit, while McCarthy’s star has dimmed after a very successful 30-plus year career in the shark-infested waters of soccer management.

The one area that the film touches upon, but I feel needs spelling out all these years later to a younger audience, is the nation’s mindset ahead of that 2002 World Cup.

The glory years of Jack Charlton were only a decade earlier, and the sense in Ireland - fuelled by pundits like Eamon Dunphy - was that they were more of a missed opportunity than a reason to rejoice. In 2002, with world class Keane on board, it was time for Ireland to challenge for honours, rather than be the ‘cabaret act’, in Dunphy’s words. Keane clearly bought into this feeling.

As the nation prays that we qualify for a first World Cup this year since that 2002 effort, it is easy to forget how high hopes were at the time of Saipan - that this time, Ireland must not fail gloriously, but succeed.

This sense, that English people like Charlton, McCarthy, and a host of other players with Irish ancestry, had somehow failed Ireland rather than led them to glory a decade earlier, is very strong in Saipan.

Will the new film change opinions on Leeside? I’m not so sure.

For my part, I have the proud distinction of putting on record the opinion that McCarthy should send Keane home from the World Cup, a day before he did just that!

On May 22, 2002, amid reports of unrest in the Irish camp 12,000km away in Saipan, I wrote in this newspaper: “If Keane continues to cause disruptions, Mick McCarthy should send him home.” On the same page, my colleague John McHale wrote a passionate defence of Keane and insisted he should stay with the team.

It was a balanced editorial approach that proved wise when, as that day’s edition was still being sold on the streets and in the shops, news began filtering through that McCarthy had indeed taken the seismic decision to send home his captain and talisman.

“He was a disruptive influence,” said the manager. “I cannot and will not tolerate being spoken to with that level of abuse.”

That was the reason Keane’s World Cup hopes ended, right there.

At the end of the film, the credits play out to the tune No Regrets, a song originally recorded by the Walker Brothers. I would say, almost a quarter of a century after the events of Saipan, that Mick McCarthy has no regrets. Roy Keane? Regrets, he must have a few.