It is, to a small section of football fans, one of the most widely mythologised tales from the sport’s history. To others, they might not even be aware it ever happened.
The year is 2002. The Irish national team, having qualified for the upcoming World Cup in Japan and South Korea, need preparation. Coached by Mick McCarthy, a former Irish player even in spite of him being born in Barnsley, the team is largely greater than the sum of its parts. But its captain Roy Keane, at this point playing for Manchester United, is in the prime of his career and is one of the best players in the Premier League.
To prepare for the tournament and acclimatise to the heat and the time difference, the decision is made to travel to Saipan, the capital of the (incredibly) remote Northern Mariana Islands for a week of training in the sun. Problem being of course, somehow there are no footballs, and the unprepared and unsafe pitch resembles what Keane describes as a ‘rockery.’ This dispute between McCarthy and his most high-profile player and captain rumbles on for the entire week, before, on the eve of travelling to Japan for the tournament itself, Keane leaves the squad and returns home to Manchester.
Over the following two decades since the event, stories from those there on the island that week have emerged in dribs and drabs through autobiographies, interviews, and after-dinner speeches. Consensus on the contents of Keane’s outburst towards his manager on that fateful final night on Saipan is elusive, although the most legendised tales have him telling McCarthy he doesn’t rate him as a player, manager, or person, and my personal favourite line from the myths, ‘you can shove your World Cup up yer b****cks.’
For these reasons, the task of making a film out of these events is no mean feat. Filmmakers Glenn Leyburn and Lisa Barros D’Sa in their new film named after the island the spat took place on have created an enjoyable yet tense version of events, starring Steve Coogan as McCarthy, and Eanna Hardwicke as Keane.
It’s comes as no surprise that a film about a team on an island without any balls is also, not really about football.
Portrayals of the leading characters are another of the film’s great challenges, especially with impressions of the two’s very distinct accents being some of football’s most widespread your-mate-in-the-pub chat fodder. McCarthy’s own no-nonsense, northern attitude to things received a resurgence last year after his ‘it can’ clip resurfaced, while Keane’s own post-playing broadcast career/character, has made it easy to forget just how good the Irishman was.
We’re reminded of the skill and occasional violence of Keane in the film’s early moments. Soundtracked brilliantly to Manchester City-supporting Oasis’ ‘Acquiesce,’ we see Keane’s intense training regime interlaced with real life clips of his attempted punch on Jan Fjortoft, as well as *that* tackle on Alf-Inge Haaland. Coogan’s McCarthy, by contrast, is introduced as primarily a husband and football manager second; a man more preoccupied with the flaking paint of his garden fence than he is the tactics of his upcoming opponents.
It is, at times, hard to separate Coogan’s face as McCarthy from Coogan’s face as say, Alan Partridge. As a friend euphemistically pointed out, the manager has a very ‘difficult’ face to replicate, but Coogan is sixteen years older than McCarthy was in Saipan, regardless of how good the Yorkshire accent is.
The dynamic between the two is well crafted. Writing is clever and the performances of the main characters nail the mannerisms without ever veering into parody. The supporting characters are a who’s who for anyone with vague memories the 2000s minor footballing figures. Shay Given? Check. Steven Reid? Check. Jason McAteer? Of course.
Some of the film’s best moments are in its most surreal elements, such as the truck that finally delivers the footballs, or the comedically large cut-out of Keane’s head that the hotel has made that seems to be following him around the island.
It comes as no surprise that a film about a team on an island without any balls is also, not really about football. The Saipan episode gripped an entire nation, with some, as we’re shown in the film’s opening montage of press-clippings from the time, going as far to describe it as Ireland’s ‘version of the Princess Diana tragedy.’ The population was divided in the aftermath. For every advertising banner that had Roy Keane’s face ripped/punched out of it, there was a bouquet of flowers left at the door of the Irish football federation to mark the death of the sport in the country for having let their captain walk away.
More importantly, the film is about nationhood, as the clash between those differing on what Ireland should be on the global stage. To McCarthy and many of the lads on the team, qualifying for the World Cup is enough of an achievement, and the trip to Saipan is a time to relax with an eye on the tournament ahead. To Keane, Ireland should be done with just being happy turning up, and stop being what he sees as a global laughing stock. He views McCarthy as just another Englishman wishing to keep the Irish in their place and stop them from growing out of their box.
The problem therein lies with him not recognising the place of privilege he comes from playing in one of the greatest Premier League sides under one of the greatest ever managers leaves him with slightly loftier expectations than many of his countrymen. His own stubbornness against the disorganised preparation and drinking culture is what in the end forces him to leave, not realising that it only furthers the idea of his nation being a joke to many. It’s in this exploration of nationality where the film really excels.
If Saipan should be remembered for one thing, it’s the film’s ability to have to interpret tens of differing accounts about what happened on the island and present a balanced, interpretable product. You will most likely come out of this 90-minute offering with a different view on events to the person beside you, an incredibly admirable result.
