Tunnel vision Roy’s new anger management

‘ROY RAGE’ was one of the biggest back page headlines of the week, suggesting the confrontation with Patrick Vieira in the tunnel at Highbury marked a return to the good old bad old days for His Corkness.

Not so. What happened before kick-off last Tuesday was more red alert than red mist, and what unfolded afterwards on the pitch served only to underline how thoroughly Roy Keane has overhauled his approach to the game but, crucially, without sacrificing the fighting spirit which helped make him one of the most formidable competitors of the modern age.

You could argue that, back in Saipan, Keane allowed his anger to control him. What the incident in the tunnel clarified is Keane now controls his anger. The verbal clash with Vieira was stirring stuff with the exception of Gary Neville, who might well feel a little mollycoddled, and there can be few observers who didn't clench a fist and cheer when Keano more or less suggested that Big Pat pick on someone his own size.

It might have been a pub scene right down to the suggestion that he'd see him outside except that at all times Keane seemed in control of his senses. He finger-pointed, he looked enraged and he left Vieira in no doubt that battle had been joined, but the veins weren't popping out on the side of his head and there was never any suggestion that he was about to do something stupid like throw a punch or otherwise get physically involved.

Instead, with Graham Poll coolly acting as peacemaker, Keane abruptly ceased the tirade almost as if turning off an emotional tap and reverted to his trademark silent 1,000-yard stare. It was if the whole thing had been as much tactical as theatrical; the point having been made, his focus was now firmly on the game. Keane, you sensed, never lost sight of the bigger picture, the degree to which the opposition could be unhinged before a ball had even been kicked. Call it tunnel vision.

And once out on the pitch, Keane showed just how influential a figure he remains at a point when many predicted he would be well past his best.

In the autumn of his career we see only the odd glimpse of the youthful dynamo who used to surge box to box when he first came into the spotlight at Nottingham Forest, but in almost every other respect Keane is as good a player now as he's ever been and demonstrably better when it comes to self-discipline, on and off the pitch.

His refusal to yield possession to the opposition is so complete that when the odd Keane pass does go astray the sensation is one of shock. Generally, Keane likes to keep his passing simple and effective but that he is capable of producing an imaginative flourish was shown in the beautifully weighted ball with the outside of his boot which allowed Giggs to get to the line and supply the cross for Ronaldo's second goal.

And when United were reduced to 10 men, Keane was at the heart of the defensive operation, which not only frustrated Arsenal's efforts to get back in the game, but also provided sufficient flexibility for the counter-attack which saw John O'Shea seal a memorable victory with his own exquisite finish.

Keane's ability to lead by new example was also evident in the way in which he stepped in to ensure that Wayne Rooney didn't get the red card which he was on the point of receiving for sustained abuse of the referee. Once upon a time, Keane might have been at the head of that posse, but what Rooney now needs to learn from the main man is the critical difference between an uncontrolled temper tantrum and passion used with poise and purpose.

What with his diet, yoga and whatever other disciplines he employs to keep his injury-strained body fit for the physical fray, Keane deserves admiration for the way he has not only extended his career at the highest level, but even found space in which to fit a return to international duty alongside his club commitments.

But more than anything, it's the mental attitude he now brings to the game which makes him such a transfixing figure as he goes about helping United chase Chelsea and Ireland plot a course for Germany in 2006.

Meanwhile, there was another view of His Corkness to be savoured this week, one which found him resplendent in a scarlet cloak and lion's mane breastplate. The scene was the Olympia Theatre and a sneak preview of I, Keano, the musical epic which relocates the Saipan saga to the days of the Roman Empire.

Here we find Packie Bonnerus and Keano having a frank exchange of views on the training pitch.

"Fail to prepare, prepare to fail," growls Keano. Bonnerus is philosophical in a kind of Fr Dougal way: "But if you prepare to fail and you do fail, then surely you've succeeded?"

Cue the 1,000 leagues stare.

And then there's Bonnerus and Quinnus beneath a canopy marked 'Beerustentus,' musing on what they might do when the war is over.

Quinnus says he'd like to find a cure for Aids and then, y'know, build a children's hospital - "maybe in Somalia" before bursting into a Do They Know It's Christmas-style ballad which begins with the couplet: "I was once good in the air/Now I want to be good everywhere ..."

A character called Keano raising spirits on the pitch and on the boards did we ever think it would get this good again?