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Day 7: Saipan, Sunday, May 20

(In conversation with Paul Kimmage)

'I've been a wild Rover'

GOT up really early this morning to have a look at our new base. Saipan is a once-in-a-lifetime place but I can't ever see myself coming back. Too far. But it's nice. Had a good breakfast and went for a stroll along the beach with Roy. The two of us went off chatting away like we had been mates for years. I like Roy. We didn't get on at first but over the years we have grown to respect each other. I have the ultimate respect for Roy. I do. He is one of the best players in the world. And he'd definitely make it into my World 11.

Didn't go to Mass this morning. Don't normally go. I'm not a religious person but I believe in God. And I don't think He's a woman. And I don't think He has a big white beard. I don't know what He looks like. But I do speak to something before big events which is bad really because it's always before big events. And I'm always looking for something. And to be fair he has helped me out on a right few occasions. The game against Holland springs to mind.

Mick Byrne went to Mass. I believe in Mick Byrne. He is a very strong character in my life. He said to me today: 'I need to get you right for this tournament. Someone could say the wrong thing to you and you'd walk away with your head down and I can't let that happen.' He is always chipping away at me, all the time.

Mick laid down a few ground rules at a meeting last night. We're not allowed try anything too wild like the go-karts or jet skis, which is a source of some dismay to Ian Harte, the Sport Billy of the team. He was up at six this morning. He's on the tennis court. He's in the pool. He's on the volleyball court. He cannot sit still.

Our first training session was, well . . . I'm not sure I should say this, but the kit hasn't arrived. A couple of the skips have gone missing and we've no kit and no balls. Mick stood up at a meeting last night and said he was sorry and that's a good quality in the man because it's not his fault. It should have been sent out weeks ago.

Taff (Ian Evans, the assistant manager) used the session as a blow-out but because my ankle is still swollen from the Nigeria game I was advised to sit it out. It was bloody hot out there. The lads were blowing out their arse. But we are being weighed before and after training to see how much fluid we are losing and need to put back in.

Stan has been a right grumpy bastard since we started rooming in Dublin. He tried to get hold of his missus today but the phone was engaged every time. I asked if he was all right and he nearly snapped my head off: 'Of course I'm f**king all right.' And then there's our ongoing battle over what music is to be played.

I've brought a set of mini-speakers for my DVD player and every time I go to the bathroom, I return to find my Elevation Tour CD on the bed and 'Wild Rover' from Stan's favourite compilation Irish Pub Songs blaring out. So I've been trying to spend as much time out of the room as possible until he settles into his routine.

Day 8: Saipan, Monday, May 21

Calm before the storm

WOKE up ridiculously early again and began the day with a game of tennis with Shay Given. Fancied myself to be honest, felt sure walking out that I'd beat him but he's a grinder, a percentage player. I went for the big shots but he just kept the ball in the court and I ended up losing 6-4. We'd planned a second set but we were knackered and walked off.

Roy has been fantastic. I've spoken to him more in the last eight days then I have in the last eight years. I sat down with him on the beach this morning and started caning the Man United team and going through the list of who I'd get rid of and he had a little laugh. And then he picked up my Jimmy White book and started reading it.

We trained in the afternoon. It was 900 degrees. Niall had the yellow jersey (awarded to the worst trainer every day) and must have lost three stone. It was a tough session. And the pitch isn't great. And I was a little bit down about my ankle, which is still a bit sore, but Mick Byrne told me to 'stop thinking like that'. And he's right. I shouldn't have got myself down about it because I know it will be okay.

Had a massage this evening in the hotel. I fell asleep and when I woke up the girl who was giving the massage was standing on my back. It reminded me of being at home and the way my missus walks all over me. But it was good.

I spoke to my mum on the phone tonight and from the sound of it there's not a lot happening in Liverpool. Or in the world: 'Sam's on his way to work.' 'Yeah thanks for that Mum.' 'I was just ironing.' 'Yeah okay.' 'So what's happening with the news?' 'Oh nuthin mum, everything is fine.' 'Whats the food like there?' 'It's great mum.' 'Your sister was saying you were in the paper yesterday? Your ankle is it? Is everything okay?' 'Yeah Mum.' 'Right I'll let you go because it must be costing you a fortune.'

And she wasn't wrong there. I used the phone for five minutes on the day we arrived and it cost 40 dollars. Kevin Kilbane's bill up to this morning was 408 dollars. Kev's problem is that he loves his missus, I mean really loves his missus, and it costs him a fortune each time just to say goodbye. They must say 'love you' at least ten times. And then she'll urge him to have a quick word with Jack. Jack is the dog. Kevin: 'Jack are you okay?' Jack (panting furiously): 'Ruff Ruff.' Money well spent.

Day 9: Saipan, Tuesday, May 22

The Cuban Missile Crisis

I DON'T know why footballers moan so much, given the money we earn and the life we lead but we do. The training kit will be laid out perfectly on the bed and we'll moan. The pitch will play like Wembley and we'll moan. The food will be prepared by a five-star chef and we'll moan. But today the moaning got a bit out of hand.

From the moment we started training everyone was touchy. Packie Bonner had a go at Gary Kelly. Lee Carsley had a go at Dave Connolly. A bad pass would be followed by a 'f**king 'ell' or a 'f**k off'.

We were all struggling with the heat. But these things happen when you've been together for over a week.

The only thing I can compare it to is living in a big house with 35 people. We eat at the same time; we meet at the same time; we train with the same bunch of people. Your closest friend on the team will do something and you'll snap the head off him. And then minutes later you'll be fine again.

Except Roy's not fine. Roy's going home. And I'm gutted. I want him to stay. He is one of the best footballers in the world and I love playing with him.

The problem started when the 'keepers stopped training before the five-a-side. Packie had started them a half-an-hour before and by the time the five-a-side (which is actually a nine-a-side) came round they were knackered. You need a 'keeper when you are playing with full-sized goals so we had to put a player on each line, which is obviously not ideal.

Roy lost the head when it was over. He started with Packie and finished with Alan Kelly and it got quite heated at times. Everything is black or white with Roy; there's no such colour as grey. He thought what had happened was wrong and said so. And I admire him for it. He wants the best for everyone in the squad. But I don't always understand his rage. And when he got on the bus and started staring at the roof I knew we were heading for trouble.

We showered back at the hotel and spent an hour flitting about before dinner. A barbeque had been arranged and when he didn't show I thought I'd pop up and see him in his room. I knocked at his door. He opened it and invited me in. He was brushing his teeth.

"Is everything okay," I asked. "Not really," he said. "Come on," I said, "we've just got to get on with it now." But he just looked at me with a smirk. "You're not going home are you?" "Yeah, four o'clock tomorrow." I didn't believe him. I thought he was taking the piss. "Yeah, good one," I laughed. "We'll see," he said.

I went downstairs to find the lads. The (technical) staff were running around all over the place. Something was definitely up. It reminded me of a video I watched recently called Thirteen Days about the Cuban missile crisis. There were hushed conversations in every corner: "How are we going to stop this bomb that could explode?"

Mick Byrne was sitting with Mick McCarthy. Mick (McCarthy) looked gutted. "He's not going home is he?" I asked. "Yeah," he replied, "tomorrow."

I went back to my room and Stan was just waking up from a deep sleep. I told him what had happened. He looked at me as if his house had just been robbed. At first he was really angry. "The f**king idiot." "F**k him." And then he decided he had to try to do something. He got up and went to see Quinny and was still out of the room when I fell asleep.

Day 10: Saipan, Wednesday, May 23

The Messiah returns

IT'S turning into a blur. Is this Tuesday or Wednesday? I have lost all track of time and the jetlag is still playing havoc with my sleep. I woke up at six and went for a walk on the beach to think about what had happened and where we go from here.

At seven I returned to the hotel for breakfast with Hartey, Kells (Gary) and Stan. Eddie Corcoran (the travel and logistics co-ordinator) stuck his head through the door and called Mick Byrne. And when Mick jumped up and shot out the door I thought there was something going on. I went upstairs to the treatment room to get some strapping for my ankle for training. A team meeting had been called for nine and we were leaving straight after it. And the first I heard that Roy had changed his mind was when he walked into the room for surgical spirit for his feet. I couldn't believe it.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "Are you training?" He seemed angry. There was an edge to his voice. "You all just go with the flow," he spat. "What do you mean?" "What goes with the flow?" he asked. I thought, 'here we go again.' He's been hitting me with all these one-liners 'Fail to prepare, prepare to fail' all week. Sometimes I think he thinks he's Alex Ferguson. "I don't know," I replied. "What goes with the flow?" "Dead fish," he said. I thought 'Wow! P-R-O-F-O-U-N-D. The messiah has spoken.' And then he walked out of the room.

It was all very normal after that. At the meeting, Mick apologised again for the kit going missing and the state of the pitch and explained again why we were there, to rest, relax and acclimatise. And then he urged everybody to 'go forward from here and just get on with it and enjoy it.'

John F Kennedy couldn't have said it better. It was like the crisis had never happened.

Day 11: Saipan, Thursday, May 24

World War Three

I DISLIKE Graham Souness, my former manager at Blackburn Rovers, with a passion. I'll say hello to him when we bump into each other at games but I wouldn't send him a Christmas card and I wouldn't go for a drink with him and I hope I never see him ever again in my life. He almost ruined my career and I can't help but despise him for it.

We had an argument one afternoon in his office. Though not quite as vicious, it reminded me of the argument tonight between Mick and Roy. There was a lot of hatred and anger in the air. And though I have never regarded myself as an ignorant person, I'm not sure I passed the test that afternoon. But I had motive. My career was on the line.

I do not understand why Roy was so angry. There was no justification for the way that he reacted tonight. I am not going to repeat what he said to Mick McCarthy but he was way offside. Mick had no option but to send him home. He was backed into a corner and had to stand up. Roy is gone and we just have to get on with it.

The storm clouds had started gathering late in the afternoon. There were whispers that Roy had had a go in an interview with The Irish Times. Philip Quinn (the Irish Independent football correspondent) was standing in the lobby of the hotel as I returned from the pictures (Spiderman). He was holding a copy of the interview.

I asked to take a look and one line jumped out: 'The players accept the things they do and that's why they're at the level they're at.' I thought: 'What does this guy really think of us?' I was disappointed. I felt let down. And I just couldn't quite figure where he was coming from.

He lets off steam about the travel arrangements and the kit and the training ground and makes the point that it's for our benefit. The team's benefit. But was he thinking of the team when he decided he was going home on Tuesday. Was he thinking of the team when had a go at us in print? What was his motive?

The big question then was how it was going to be handled. A team meeting was called for seven. There was a band playing in the room until Mick arrived with a copy of the article. We all knew that if it came to a head there was only going to be one outcome. Roy was asked to explain his comments in the paper. And the rest was nasty.

He said some strange and very hurtful things at the meeting for our benefit. For the team's benefit. Things like: "Youre just looking for an excuse for when Ireland do bad so you can say 'Well Roy Keane was sent home'." And I thought: 'We haven't really made it to the World Cup. We havent really earned the right to be here. We owe it all to Roy. And Roy thinks we're shit.'

When it was over, all I could think about when Roy had left and I looked around the room was the kids: Duffer, Reidy, Clinton, Robbie. They should not have been subjected to this. But it had to be addressed. Mick stood up to say a few words. "We go on from here now. We grow stronger from this. We stick together." And then he asked if anyone had anything to say.

Dean Kiely is one of the quieter lads in the group. "I'd like to say something Mick," he said. We all turned and looked at him. "If you want," he said, "I can do a job for you in midfield." And the place just erupted.

I called to Roy's room later that evening. There was someone in there with him. I knocked at the door and he opened it. "Two minutes," he said. "I dont want to speak to you," I said, "I just came to shake your hand and wish you luck." "Good luck Jason," he said, shoving his hands around the door. And then he closed it. I thought 'Cheers'.

Day 12: Izumo, Friday, May 25

Small in Japan

WE arrived in Japan this afternoon. It's like stepping into Legoland, everything is really tiny. The dinner plates are tiny. The knives and forks are tiny. They give tiny portions of ice cream and only half-fill your cup. But the hospitality is massive. America was all right in '94 but the people didn't bother their arse. Here they can't do enough for you.

Trained at the stadium this afternoon. After loosening out, we did a bit of pattern play, a bit of possession and then had a five-a-side where I squared-up to Robbie Keane. I believe I am a good trainer. If there's a ball not to go for, I'll pull out of it. If there's a tackle not to make I'll pull out of it. But sometimes instinct takes over and you try something that doesn't work and you end up stamping on Robbie Keane.

It had been a long day and we were all tired and under pressure. I wouldn't back down, he wouldn't back down and we had to be separated. But I love Robbie. He's got that same cheeky way as Robbie Fowler. And ten minutes later we were cracking jokes again.

Roy continues to dominate the gossip. There are all sorts of stories filtering through. That the Man United plane is coming to pick him up. That Bertie is trying to change his mind. I just hope for Mick's sake it doesn't turn into a propaganda war.

Enquiries to: franknoc@yahoo.com

Japan

Embassy of Ireland

Ireland House 5F,

2-10-7 Kojimachi,

Chiyoda -ku,

Tokyo1020083

Tel : ++81 3 32630695

Fax : ++81 3 32652275

Korea

Embassy of Ireland

Daehan Fire and Marine Insurance Building,

15th Floor,

51-1 Namchang-Dong,

Chung-Ku,

100-778 Seoul

Tel : ++ 82 2 7746455

Fax : ++ 82 2 7746458