Paddy Kenny: 'It was old school - four cans on the coach on the way home. I'd that sort of mentality'

Paddy Kenny during a Championship match between Leeds United and Nottingham Forest at Elland Road in 2012. Picture: Paul Thomas/Getty Images

“If you've shagged Paddy’s wife, clap your hands.” 

The jeers and cheers tumbled down the terraces at Old Trafford, landing squarely on the round shoulders of Paddy Kenny, Sheffield United's Ireland goalkeeper.

“I looked round and they were all clapping away,” Kenny said, “Ruthless bastards.” 

It was a sink or swim moment, and speaking from his home in England, the former Ireland keeper remembers how he decided to deal with his private life becoming all too public.

“I'm one of these people where it's sink or swim – you can let it affect you or go under, so I thought 'f*ck me, I'll have some banter back with the fans.

“When they were singing, I was nodding my head with them saying 'yeah'.

It was typical Kenny. Years earlier he was playing Rotherham away, and the abuse again rained down.

“The old Kop end was singing 'you fat bastard' and all that, so I saw a bloke behind the goal with a pack of six pork pies and I went over and took one. I ate it and in the second half they were singing my name. I got no more abuse, just a bit of heartburn.” 

It's easy to laugh now, 13 years on, but in 2007 Kenny endured more than most were asked to.

The news of his then wife's infidelity – with his best friend – hit the papers at the same time he had his eyebrow bitten off – by another friend – following a night out to clear his head.

Just one week earlier he'd slumped away from the Ireland squad after one of the country's worst results – the 5-2 defeat to Cyprus; the beginning of the end for Steve Staunton.

That night in Nicosia, Kenny was far from a central culprit, but the keeper – winning his seventh, and final, cap – felt the finger of blame pointed firmly at him.

“I was looking forward to working with Stan, after enjoying my time under Brian Kerr,” Kenny says. 

“With the career Stan had, his background, it was very exciting.

“So I was obviously disappointed when I felt his fingers were pointing at me, and only me.

“One goal was my fault, but he singled me out and nobody else.

"I don't know if they expected me, being from the Championship, to sit and take it, but I'm not that type of person.

I got up and told him what I thought...it wasn't just me who f*cked up.

Kenny reported a niggle to the medical team and went home to England, where he later asked to be left out as his personal life went from bad to worse.

“I'd a lot going off, so I just said to leave it, but I never got a call again.

“When I look back, I went on to QPR after that and had two of the best years of my career, and I was thinking 'surely I am in the mix here...' I'd 25 clean sheets in 44 games but keepers in the lower down leagues were still being picked.

“Seven caps is still seven more than I ever thought I'd get – I made it to the pro game without a goalkeeping coach – but I do feel there should have been a lot more.

“It was one bad game – and a few things went off in my life, that weren't my fault...but maybe I shouldn't have put myself in those positions.” 

Kenny recently completed his warts-and-all autobiography 'The Gloves Are Off', a process he views as post-retirement 'therapy'.

I could have left things out but I said if I'm doing it – I'm doing it right. It wasn't too bad, I've thick skin, so I can deal with it all being out there.

“It made me realise from where I came from and what I've achieved...I had a good career, some ups and downs on and off the pitch, but I'm proud.”

In a book that's surprisingly open in contrast to much of the current sports autobiography market, some come out better than others. Neil Warnock, a coach who need not look far to find enemies, finds a friend that paints a picture of a gloriously eccentric, yet effective leader.

He recalls a rare thumbs up from Roy Keane – just days after telling the Cork man where to go during a training game. “Your ‘keeper...” Keane said to Alan Quinn, Kenny's then teammate at Sheffield United, “I f*cking love him. He’s had a right go at me today. I love that.” 

There are old school tales of drinking competition in Lillies Bordello with Richard Dunne, Stephen Carr flashing eye watering amounts of cash for a round, and some laughs at how Damien Duff's mammy kept such a close eye on his money, he had to borrow if he lost at cards.

Two divorces were emotionally and financially painful, but through it all we find a man who loved nothing more than to be between the sticks on a Saturday afternoon.

“I think I enjoyed it,” he says, of his career. “I look back now and doing this book has made me realise what I had. Those were the cards I was dealt and if you look at what happened I don't think I could have achieved more.” 

Regrets?

“I could have maybe taken a bit more care of fitness along the way. But when I was involved – it was fish n' chips, old school...four cans on the coach on the way home. I'd that sort of mentality, so maybe I'd change that side.” 

Now happily working in transport, don't expect to see Kenny near a dugout anytime soon.

“I'd hate to be starting now, I don't even like watching, the way it is. Look at VAR, too, I'd hate to be a player now – you can't fart without getting in trouble.

You can't be 100% honest, so I feel I'm coming out of the back of the good days...they're all robots now.

The terraces say many things, but they never called Kenny a robot.

The Gloves Are Off: My story, by Paddy Kenny with Danny Hall is published by Vertical Editions