The Secret Footballer: My take on transfer deadline day, part two

Roy Keane: Called the Secret Footballer on deadline day

In part one of his take on transfer deadline day, the Secret Footballer began telling us about the time when he was poised to make a move just before the window closed. Here's what happened...

Just to recap where I left you in part one 

I was sat in a room in what was a fairly relaxed atmosphere, with my agent, the manager of my would-be club, the club secretary and the chief executive, when my phone rang. Nervous glances followed. I answered it. "TSF? It's Craddie. Listen, you haven't signed yet have ya? Our gaffer wants to speak to you, hold on."

At that point, in one of the offices of a Premier League rival with a very nice contract in front of me, Roy Keane told me that he wanted to sign me. Everybody around the table knew what was going on when I told them that I just needed to speak to my agent because there was a problem back home. I was shown to the boardroom, where I told my agent. He rang Keane and proceeded to thank him politely but rejected his approach. You see, this is why players need agents.

Imagine if Sunderland had been my home-town club or if Keane had told me that a 50,000-a-week contract was waiting for me. I would have jumped in my car and driven to Sunderland to sign the deal that Keane put in front of me. And Keane knew it. My agent had already reflected. He knew that if I left the building that I was sat in, this club would pull their contract offer. He also knew that Keane knew that.

And that meant there would only be one contract left for me to sign - a shit contract at Sunderland in the face of no other interest. Not 50,000 a week, probably more like 23,000 a week. Once I turned that down, I'd be going back to the club whose boardroom I was now sat in, with my tail between my legs. I would not have the four-year 30,000-a-week contract that sat in front of me now. I would have a four-year deal on something like 18,000 a week, with no time left to get back to Sunderland.

As a player, when time is ticking down, you can't see the wood from the trees and legends like Keane are ringing your mobile, you are always grateful for an agent to remove the emotion and to know exactly what he's doing. Always. After having that explained to me in no uncertain terms - time was ticking - we tried to leave the boardroom to go back to the other room. The door was locked.

Even if we had wanted to go to Sunderland, we couldn't have. Every person plays their part on transfer deadline day and, when the door was finally unlocked half an hour later, a sheepish-looking caretaker said: "Oh, it's always doing that. I had to get the keys from the training ground."

Yeah, right...

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