Rejoice in Roy for refusing to toe party line

IF Bryan Robson had his way, Roy Keane would be a card-carrying member of the old boys’ network at Manchester United, that cosy cartel of ambassadors who press the flesh and pocket a few bob in return.

It suits a lot of former United players to ‘give something back’ to the club which made them millionaires and stocked their trophy cabinets.

Some, no doubt, feel a sense of loyalty to where they were employed in their playing prime; one or two may even be United diehards — a bit like Fred the Red.

Others may simply like the cut of the club blazer, the best seats in the house at games, and plenty of leg room on those long-haul summer flights to promote the United gospel.

Just as their snouts were firmly in the Old Trafford trough as players, so it is now.

Alex Ferguson (pictured), who helped create the United ‘brand’ as the club’s most successful manager, picks up around €2.5m a year for his ‘work’ as a global ambassador.

Others on the pay-roll include Robbo, Peter Schmeichel, Dwight Yorke, Nemanja Vidic, Ji-Sung Park — a vital presence for the Asian market — and our own Dennis Irwin.

Even Paddy Crerand, 50 years after the European Cup breakthrough, is wheeled out on MUTV for anecdotes about the night they brought Benfica down.

Gary Neville is an ambassador too, although his tendency to be outspoken when United are on Sky, may be regarded as unhelpful by the Old Trafford PR machine.

And then there is Keano, who doesn’t play ball at all.

According to Robbo, Keano is a mate. They live near each other in Cheshire ( I wonder how often Robbo’s been around to Roy’s for a cup of Barry’s finest).

Robbo was in Dublin the other day for a Carling gig, where he tut-tutted the way Keano, both in print and as ITV pundit, rakes the shins of players and managers including, God forbid, Manchester United and Jose Mourinho.

In Robbo’s world, you don’t turn on your former club; rather you stay on-side, wear the blazer, and pose for the selfies. You can have a pop at the noisy neighbours, at Liverpool or Arsenal, but you always talk of United in terms of ‘we’.

For that is the way of United’s ambassadors, if not the way of the man from Mayfield.

Both men are genuine United icons, even if Robbo’s best years were spent propping up average United teams.

In contrast, Keane drove very good players on to become great ones. He never let any United player off the hook, whether it was Bradford or Barcelona in the opposition corner.

He’s the same on TV, where he calls it as he sees it, highlighting deficiencies in players and managers alike. It doesn’t matter if it’s United in the dock, or City, Chelsea or Spurs, Keano lays it on the line.

He is excellent value. He is volatile, unpredictable and brutally honest — it’s why he’s been box office to the Irish media for so many years.

If a producer dared suggest he take a conciliatory line tomorrow night for ITV’s Champions League highlights, they’d get the thousand-yard stare.

Should Liverpool and City share six goals at Anfield, most channels would drool over the quality of the attacking players and how football is all about the great entertainers.

Not Roy, he’ll point out how neither team can defend and that unless they learn to do so, they can forget about winning the Champions League.

The ITV highlights will be in stark contrast to Sky’s unctuous handling of the Masters.

Watch Sky tip toe through the azaleas, fearful of saying anything that might upset the Georgia blazers and their mint juleps.

Keano has no time for such servile coverage. Unlike many former footballers, he doesn’t play golf, which is a shame as he’d call Augusta as he sees it. Straight down the middle. As it should be.