Absorbing and infinitely more interesting than other sports books - this is Mary Hannigan's verdict on Roy Keane's autobiography which went on sale in Ireland yesterday.
So, here it is: Keane - The Autobiography. Having fed off the ever-so-slightly salacious, serialised scraps that appeared in the London Times and The News of the World the past few weeks, those who condemned the book without having read it finally have the chance to see if the unabridged version merits the same degree of indignation and outrage.
Its arrival on the book shelves yesterday, we're told, was as eagerly anticipated by the English Football Association, the Greater Manchester Police and teams of lawyers representing a string of clients - including Alf Inge Haaland, Manchester City and Roy Keane's own club, Manchester United - as it was by anyone with a yearning to read his life story, in his own words. As ghosted by Eamon Dunphy.
Mick McCarthy, Jack Charlton, Maurice Setters (Charlton's former assistant), Niall Quinn, Steve Staunton, Peter Schmeichel, Kenny Dalglish and journalist Cathal Dervan, to name but a few, might also be tempted to furtively arm themselves with a copy but, one suspects, after reading Keane's assessment of them, none will be queuing up at any of his book-signing sessions for a personalised message on the inside cover.
The Football Association of Ireland, too, might want to avert its eyes ("to describe the FAI as amateurs would be an insult to amateurs") while the "public at large" ("most of whom wouldn't know a football from an egg-timer") might also take offence.
It's not often that a footballer's autobiography creates quite a stir - they are more typically, to put it mildly, the blandest and most pointless of literary offerings, rarely revealing more than insights of the calibre of "football's a funny old game" and "the gaffer's a top bloke".
The "ghost-written" football autobiography can be fraught with difficulties, too. Amazon's book website, for example, is currently advertising Bill Shankly's "autobiography", It's Much More Important Than That, an effort that was actually written several years after the great Liverpool manager's death. Work that one out.
Inevitably, though, the combination of Keane (a fuse) and Dunphy (a lighting match) has produced a work that is infinitely more interesting, at times utterly enthralling, than almost all other books in the genre. Think what you will about Dunphy, but he is the author of two of the finest football books ever written, Only a Game and A Strange Kind of Glory (his biography of Matt Busby).
Dunphy promised a brutally honest account of Keane's life and career to date, and "brutally honest" is what the reader gets. In parts. Working, evidently, under the assumption that his international career is over, Keane "lets rip" at many of the folk he worked with, and under, while playing for Ireland. But he is less willing to name names when upbraiding some of his Manchester United team-mates for the failures of last season. David Beckham, though, presumably recognises himself in the passage referring to those immersed in a lifestyle of "Rolex watches, fast cars and mansions".
Therein, perhaps, lies the only reservation of note about the book - how much better and more candid might it have been if Keane and Dunphy had waited until the end of the player's career to pen it?
Keane is still, after all, captain of Manchester United, still restricted, to a large degree, by dressing-room loyalty. Inevitably, then, the reader is left with the feeling that he has so much more to tell about his experiences at the club. Maybe the sequel will satisfy that inquisitiveness?
And should the book, as some have claimed, been entitled Dunphy rather than Keane? Well, certainly, in the passages referring to Charlton's reign as Irish manager, one unquestionably hears Dunphy's voice and recognises his language ("fraud", "impostor", etc). Presumably, having giving his blessing to the book, Keane shares those judgments of Charlton. But those of us who listened to Dunphy on RTÉ during Italia '90, and read his criticisms of the manager thereafter, couldn't help but wonder whose views were being expressed. Mick McCarthy? Let's just say the chances of a reconciliation between Keane and McCarthy after the book's publication are significantly less than slim. Antipathy bordering on loathing. This is a sure-fire prediction: there will be no kissing and making up.
Favourite quote? "Denis (Irwin) was quiet, intelligent, composed, sensible. I was quiet." Closely followed by, "unlike people, dogs don't talk shite". Verdict? It is, quite simply, absorbing.