Wayne Rooney: My Decade in the Premier League Read Online Free PDF

crowd are singing my name before I even get onto the pitch.
    ‘Rooney!’
    ‘Rooney!’
    ‘Roooooooo-neeeeee!’
    The shivers run down my spine as I walk into the glare of the floodlights for the first time in a red shirt. I’m bricking it.
    It makes me laugh whenever I watch the tape of that game now: I come out of the tunnel with a chewy in my mouth and my eyes don’t seem to move as I walk across the grass. I don’t even blink. I stare straight ahead, trying to focus. The camera catches me puffing my chest out, gettingmyself ready, staring at the sky above the massive stand in front of me. I don’t look at anything in particular, just a space above that huge wall of people which seems to stretch up forever, full of red and black and white and some yellow and green.
    I want to soak up the noise.
    I don’t want to turn round.
    I don’t want to see how massive everything looks.
    Bloody hell, this is Old Trafford.
    *****
    Everything had been so quiet and calm before.
    I sat in the dressing room ahead of the game and watched as everybody prepared themselves. I saw some of the biggest names in the league getting ready: winger Ryan Giggs stretching his skinny frame, Gary Neville bouncing on the spot; Dutch striker Ruud van Nistelrooy and Rio Ferdinand playing two touch with a ball, their passes pinging off the concrete floor. It was totally different to the atmosphere at Everton.
    At Goodison it was rowdy and loud, people shouted, yelled, issued instructions. It dawned on me that some teams have to win games through team spirit; they have to fight harder for one another. Pumping up the dressing room builds a strong attitude. It helps to psyche out the opposition. Before the Fenerbahçe game I noticed that everyone in a United shirt prepared in their own way – calmly, quietly. No one screamed or shouted. They knew that if we playedwell we’d win the game no problem. There was no need to scream and shout.
    I felt like I’d come to the right place.
    *****
    I make a good early pass. Well, I take the kick-off so I can’t really mess that one up. My first proper touch comes a few moments later and I play that one well, too. I’m running on pure adrenaline.
    I want to impress everyone. I want to show them what I can do.
    Then, in the 17th minute I score my first-ever United goal.
    Ruud plays me through. I’m one-on-one with the goalie and everything slows down – the weirdest feeling in football. It seems to take an hour before I get to the penalty area, as if I’m running in really thick mud. My brain goes into overdrive like it always does in this situation, as if it’s a computer working out all the sums needed to score a goal.
    Is the keeper off his line?
    Is a defender closing in on me?
    Should I take it round the goalie?
    Should I shoot early?
    Will I look a divvy if I try to ’meg him and I hit the ball wide?
    A one-on-one like this is probably the hardest thing to pull off in a game because there’s too much time to processall the info, too much time to think. Too much time to overcomplicate what should be an easy job.
    I’m just going to put my foot through it, see what happens.
    I hit the ball with all my strength and it rockets into the back of the net. Old Trafford goes nuts. Right now I doubt anyone cares whether I’m a Scouser or not, I’m off the mark. Mentally I loosen up, I feel like I can express myself a little bit, try a few things. Not long afterwards, Ryan Giggs plays a ball across to me. I drop a shoulder, do my defender and fire the ball into the bottom corner. Now the crowd are singing my name again; now I’m daring to dream.
    What would it be like to score a hat-trick at Old Trafford?
    I find out in the second half. There’s a free-kick on the edge of the Fenerbahçe area and Giggsy, with all his amazing ability and experience, puts the ball down to take it, but I want it. I’ve got bucketloads of confidence and I fancy my chances, just like I did whenever I got into the ring with a