Like two farmers inspecting a bull, Niall Quinn and I are standing in the car-park of the Royal County Hotel in Durham, running the rule over his Sunderland team-mate Marcus Stewart’s car. A recent acquisition – like the car – Stewart is living in the hotel until he finds a house in the locale. The sleekest, sportiest number you’ve ever seen, this machine would look less out of place on the landing bay of the Millennium Falcon. Sitting here surrounded by Mondeos, Micras, Volvos and the like, it looks ridiculous.

“Do you think he bought it second-hand from Rio Ferdinand?” I enquire, pointing out the ‘R10’ on the registration plate.

Quinn rubs his hands together and cackles gleefully: “Jayzus, I hadn’t noticed that. I’ll ask him at training tomorrow. The lads will get a great kick out of that.”

As an afterthought he adds: “You know, I’ve never gone in for the fancy stuff. Apart from the fact that I wouldn’t actually fit in a car like that, I’ve never gone down that road. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, mind. It’s just never been my style.”

And with that, he shakes my hand, thanks me for coming to talk to him, ambles over to his Range Rover and folds himself into the driver’s seat. “Give me a shout next time you’re up or Sunderland are down in London,” he shouts, and with a wave and a toot on the horn he’s gone, leaving me to wonder if he says that to all the journalists, or if my small contribution to tomorrow’s “bit of stick” has made me a friend for life.

By his own account, Quinn’s not really the kind of man you’d want for a friend. His autobiography, an intriguing, entertaining and often laugh-out-loud funny collaboration with Irish Times journalist Tom Humphries, attempts to paint a picture of a selfish, thoughtless, chancer of limited ability, who’s ridden his luck throughout a 16-year career as a professional footballer.

It fails spectacularly to do so, however, for the simple reason that he’s way too hard on himself. If anything, the Saint Niall image that irritates him so much is actually enhanced by his misguided belief that by admitting his myriad shortcomings as a man, a friend, a husband and a footballer – laziness, selfishness, greed, his fondness for a drink and a bet – he will shock us into revising our opinion of him. And while he talks a good game, I must confess that I wasn’t entirely convinced. Niall Quinn the bad boy? It’s never been his style.

hotpress: Roy Keane’s autobiography has caused him no end of aggravation. What made you think writing yours was a good idea?

Niall Quinn: I decided to write the book because, first of all, my career was finishing. I quit in May, shook hands with Peter Reid my manager at Sunderland and thanked him for everything, I went to the World Cup and that was going to be my last expedition with an Irish team, so the book was a thing that was planned for after my career. I came back from the World Cup and Peter convinced me to stay. I then tried to set about getting out of doing the book. I didn’t want to do it and my stomach wasn’t right for it.

HP: Why?

NQ: The Roy Keane thing was huge. It knocked the backside out of the World Cup for everyone and it’s still lingering, so I thought there was no need for me to write a book. Then I thought that perhaps there was an onus on me to offer some sort of explanation over that whole affair. If I didn’t write it in a book, I felt I’d have to come out and face it some way or other, and give what I think is a balanced view of what happened, why it happened, and what’s needed to get back to normality.

The other thing as well, quite apart from the Roy Keane stuff, is that it gave me an opportunity to get rid of the ‘Saint Niall’ shite that’s been going on since I had my testimonial. All I ever hear is that I’m ‘Nice guy this, nice guy that, the perfect professional…’. That’s nonsense. I’m not perfect and I’ve never pretended to be. I actually said as much, but the media ran with the story anyway, Tony Blair was talking about me in the Houses of Parliament, Bertie was talking about me in Ireland and suddenly the thing had taken on a life of its own, which I was in no way prepared for.

HP: Well, giving away a million quid is an extraordinary thing to do.

NQ: I don’t think it was, because I think if I’d had the game for myself I’d have got about 15,000 people, I’d have had to pay 40% tax and wouldn’t have earned a lot of money out of it. That would have been selfish too, because I wasn’t 10 years at the club which is what you have to be to earn a testimonial. I felt the reasonable thing to do was try and get the same type of money and give it to a good cause. Then when people started bandying the figure of a million quid around, I thought: ‘Here we go, this is going to die on its arse. I’m going to get about 100 grand here’.

HP:You must have been happy with the response.

NQ: I was overwhelmed. The response was brilliant and so many people helped out that I’m going to be saying thank you for the rest of my life. But it left me with a dilemma. I was going home at night with 99% of the population who didn’t know me thinking I’m some sort of saint and model pro who said all the right things to the cameras and said all the right things to the journalists, when in fact I’d be stopping off for a clatter of pints and a bit of crack… y’know. I felt that writing the book was a chance to show people the real me. I don’t do it in a self-destructive way – I’m self-critical, but it’s mainly just to let people know that I am not and never have been a saint.

HP: What’s wrong with people thinking you’re a nice guy?

NQ: I feel bad about it because I don’t think I am a nice guy. I’ve bucked the system. I wasn’t that good a footballer. I worked hard, I got lucky. Moves always seemed to come at the right time for me. Mick McCarthy stuck with me after Jack had put me in. I got injuries that would have finished most people but I got my knees rebuilt. The odds of that staying together were slim, but the two of them held up great. Then, to have a manager like Peter Reid for so long… you know, you really are only as good as the belief your manager has in you and Peter always believed in me. I’ve been incredibly lucky, and I was always good at handling TV cameras and journalists, so people got this impression that I was a really nice guy and a model pro.

HP: Privately as well as publicly?

NQ: That was the other thing about the testimonial: my wife and kids got thrown to the forefront for the first time, so then people were thinking: ‘Ah look, he has the perfect, settled family life as well. Isn’t it great?’ The fact of the matter is that Gillian and I row as much as any couple. Rather than have that come out in the tabloids, I thought this was an ideal opportunity to show the person I am and forget about all the Saint Niall rubbish. It felt really cheesy, if you understand. It was getting embarrassing.

HP: It’s almost as if you feel guilty for the success you’ve had.

NQ: I do feel guilty and I always will do because I had my second career-threatening injury, I got over it and then Sunderland got back in the Premiership when the boom-time hit. Everybody said Peter Reid should replace me, but he stuck by me and I’ve had over three years in the Premiership when the money I’ve earned was probably quadruple what I’d ever earned before. I got lucky. In the book I say it’s like a giant slot machine paying out and I’m there with both hands wide open. It’s been incredible. I do feel extremely lucky and with that I also feel guilty. Deep down I’m not so sure we deserve the money that we get, but I’ll take it and run all the same. Throughout the years I did overspend. I backed horses and bought horses. If you’ve a lot of money you want to get rid of in a hurry, that’s a good way of going about it. Buy a horse and then bet on it.

HP: So, Roy Keane. Are relations between the pair of you soured forever?

NQ: Naturally it’s going to be a lot harder for Roy Keane to reconcile and let bygones be bygones than it is for me, because I’ve had the World Cup. I’ve had the adrenalin rush of being involved, of the last-minute goal against Germany. Obviously the World Cup is the pinnacle of any footballer’s career, but it’s hard to explain just how great it feels. Now, for Roy to be deprived, be it by his own making or whatever, the empty hole he must be feeling – and I know from speaking to Michael Kennedy, who represents both of us – well, Roy is just desperately, desperately down over things. And of course, add the FA stuff with Alfie Inge Haaland and it’s like as if it’s a double whammy for him.

HP: Do you resent him for saying all he has about you? In his book, he calls you and Steve Staunton muppets.

NQ: Well, it’s funny. People ask me how I don’t resent him calling me all the names he called me, but I think if what happened to him had happened to me and I’d missed this big tournament, I’d be livid. But to happen in the way it did, in this free-for-all public spectacle that we were all a part of – it was like a freak show for a couple of weeks. I know it’s going to be very hard for Roy to come back from that but I hope time will be a healer and there will be a time when Roy can look back and ease the burden, if you like.

I still believe that whatever about us - Alan Kelly, Steve Staunton and me – there has to be some movement somewhere, even if it’s the slightest nudge from him in the right direction to get Irish football back on track. We’ve a great team and to be held back by this lingering, nauseous feeling is bewildering for that team. I do believe that some effort should be made because I think it can only be cleared when Roy Keane sticks a green jersey on again. I’m not calling on Mick McCarthy to pick him. I’m not saying that Roy should do this or that, but I do think there’s a way out should the desire be great again to play for his country.

HP: It seems unlikely he’ll play as long as Mick McCarthy is at the helm.

NQ: He’s said that, but he also said some things about Stan [Steve Staunton] and myself which he’s retracted since.

HP: An example, please?

NQ: He gave an interview saying he hoped Mick and Stan and I would rot in hell, and then he rang the person doing the article and said ‘I’d like to retract that, but not about Mick’.

HP: Superb!

NQ: (Laughs) Well, it’s something, y’know. There was movement there. Now people will think that I’ve had my say, and I’ve added to it. I would hope that people understand that me having my say was not me being selfish and wanting to defend myself. I’m critical of a lot of things in my book, but I’m more critical of myself during that Saipan and Izumo debacle. I’m more critical of myself than I am of Roy, Mick and the FAI put together… anybody.

HP: Why?

NQ: I made some horrendous mistakes during that time. My only excuse is that I went out there ill-equipped to deal with such a situation. It was like a torpedo had landed in the camp. I tried, but ultimately I don’t think it was a successful attempt. We got near enough – Michael Kennedy thought we were getting really close, but then another series of errors scuppered things and we found ourselves without Roy. It was awful. It’s something I never want to go through again and as I said to you earlier, it really knocked the arse out of the World Cup for me. The one thing I would say is that although people will probably remember this World Cup for the Roy business, the sense of togetherness and team spirit we produced as a group almost became a love for each other for those few weeks. It’s a very strong word that, but that’s how intense we had to become to overcome the fallout. If nothing else, if I made a complete hames of things politically, I like to think I made up for it on the training ground.

HP: Do you think you did make a complete pig’s ear of things?

NQ: Of course I did! When Roy exploded like he did, we needed to have a 24-hour cooling off period. Looking back, I think the events of history would have been a lot different if we had done that. Roy walked out, Mick called a press conference and it seems like minutes later myself, Stan and Alan Kelly are in there with Stan as the new captain. Obviously, at the time we were shocked by what Roy had done, but Mick had asked us to stick up for him because he knew there’d be a hostile reception waiting for him. We knew we were putting ourselves in a dreadful position but we walked in with no other choice at the time.

HP: In hindsight, what would you have done differently?

NQ: You can’t change things, but really there should have been a cooling off period where we tried to avoid the press. There was no way Roy was going to walk in and apologise a minute later, it was too intense for that. But at the same time, we might have prepared ourselves and structured ourselves for what was going to happen a little bit better. After that, I could give you a list of 20 other mistakes we made, all horrendous stuff. I’m almost apologetic for the mistakes we made. I’m certainly apologetic for the mistakes I made.

HP: In your book, your blasé attitude to the FAI’s lack of organisational savvy is astonishing.

NQ: After 16 years, you just get used to it.

HP: You shouldn’t have to.

NQ: Well y’know, if we all got as upset by their shortcomings as Roy does, nobody would ever turn up to play for Ireland. The worst one of all for me was turning up for the friendly against Russia after we’d qualified for the World Cup. We were all expecting to get some sort of a clue about what was going on in the summer, about getting families out to the World Cup, about trying to prepare and all the rest of it, and we were in the Airport Hotel from the Saturday night to the Thursday morning, and the only thing that came from the FAI was a motorbike dispatch rider with a form to fill out for tickets. You had to provide the passport details of all the people you wanted tickets for by Thursday morning, and we got that form on the Wednesday. There wasn’t one FAI official in the hotel in those four days. You just know it’s not going to happen for you, so you don’t get upset about it.

HP: But you were international footballers going to the World Cup. Surely Mick McCarthy has a responsibility to get the FAI to get their act together.

NQ: Again, Mick would be driven mad. Mick kept on and on and on at them to do things and you could see him getting all worked up about it, until eventually he just said: ‘Look, we’ll stay here and play football’. To be fair to Roy, he was instrumental in getting us a better training ground and in getting us a better hotel, as was Mick. But we just knew we’d get nowhere and on the football pitch we’d end up being an unhappy lot, so some of us are in there to overcome that kind of stuff. In the book I called myself the official optimist of the Irish team. It sounds stupid, but I was coming away with Ireland to help Mick McCarthy overcome this stuff by bringing a bit of humour and spirit to the place, and the very fact that I had to do that is a legacy of the FAI over the years. I think it was better we did that than sitting around moaning and groaning, because then we’d have a situation when we’d be a little bit off that edge you need in football.

HP: Roy argues that when it comes to the FAI’s uselessness, he bit his lip for 10 years but finally snapped because he couldn’t tolerate it any more. That’s why he gave them both barrels in his interview with The Irish Times. That sounds reasonable, but you described that interview as a cowardly act.

NQ: No, I didn’t describe it as a cowardly act. I was asked in a press conference if I thought Roy was brave. I said that a lot of people would say it was cowardly to go to the papers and not say it to the people themselves at that particular point. Now, you can look at it in a million ways: we’re on the eve of the World Cup finals, somebody thinks Roy Keane is brave… now, Roy Keane didn’t have a go, and wasn’t thrown out of the World Cup, because of the FAI’s facilities, because of the footballs, because of the t-shirts or because the energy drinks. He left the World Cup because of his character assassination of Mick McCarthy. That’s why he left. So, when we were in that press conference and I was asked that question: do I not think Roy was brave? Y’know, he’s just given the most surgical slaughtering anyone has ever got to the man who’s led us to this fantastic tournament, and who is doing his best to get us right for our opening game in eight or ten days time. So, I’m asked if I think he was brave to condemn the facilities. Well, doing it in the papers – I can’t see any bravery there. You point out where the bravery is there.

HP:It was brave because he was doing what he thought was best for the squad. And, as captain, he wanted the public to know that their national team was preparing for the World Cup on a rock-hard training pitch, with no footballs and no kit. He wasn’t prepared to put up with it any more and didn’t think Irish supporters should have to put up with it either.

NQ: To the point of missing out on the World Cup?

HP: Apparently, yes.

NQ: That’s his choice then. That’s another thing, by the way. Mick started that press conference by saying he’d sent Roy Keane home. That wasn’t right. Roy walked out on the World Cup twice in three days. You must remember that. We’re not talking about a happy bunny here, who suddenly said the wrong things for a few seconds. I think it built up and up in him. While the rest of us were prepared to get on with things, knowing how ramshackle things are, he allowed it to get in the way of his World Cup.

HP: It could be viewed as the ultimate sacrifice.

NQ: In an ideal world, he would have been more constructive in his criticism, he would have informed the players what he was doing instead of the players finding out from other sources that he’d hammered them. Although, as it turns out, it wasn’t that bad. The scare mongering that went on suggested he’d done an article in The Irish Times that tore everybody apart. I think the sun was getting to some of the press lads out there – they didn’t cover themselves in glory either. I had three separate letters from journalists apologising for how they’d behaved, which was great. It shows there is some character in there. It was a series of events that went belly-up and got worse and worse and worse. Lord knows, that the fans put up with us and gave us that big cheer when we walked out to face Cameroon is a huge credit to them.

HP: Were the players who lined out against Cameroon genuinely worried that the fans had turned against them?

NQ: Absolutely! Because of the time difference, there’s no sort of constructive pattern. People were saying that Eamon Dunphy was calling on the Irish people not to support Ireland and to support Cameroon. By the time that sort of stuff has gone around various hotel rooms, Eamon Dunphy’s name was done out of it and all you’re hearing is that the people of Ireland are going to support Cameroon. It’s scare mongering. There was another report that the fans were going to turn their backs and not watch the game. So we’re 22 lost souls running around looking for a bit of inspiration and we had no idea what was going on. So when we got a great reception coming out to play Cameroon it was a huge relief.

During the middle of the crisis, one of the younger players had got upset and said: ‘Is this what the World Cup is about? I watched in 1994 and desperately wanted to be involved and this is what it’s like?’. Here you had this young player storming out of his tea in distress, and that was a kind of turning point. At that moment there was a change in our attitude and we knew the football had to start. So, when we got that great reception I looked at that player and said: ‘Yeah, this is the World Cup’. And I don’t know if he’ll ever admit it or not, but Gary Breen, one of the senior players, had a tear in his eye. I wasn’t far off crying myself when I realised that everyone was behind us.

HP: Roy has admitted to having a drink problem…

NQ: (Interrupts) I’m not so sure because I think he speaks about how he used to drink a lot when he was younger and he doesn’t do it anymore. I was careful in my book to avoid saying he has a drink problem. What I find, and people have their own slant on everything, is that Roy is put under so much pressure when he does go out for a drink it’s little wonder he explodes. I went out for a drink with him one time in Manchester and he just got rounded on.

HP: A friend of mine is astonished that nobody seems to have made a connection between the drink and the fact that Roy didn’t play at the World Cup. He reckons that Roy travelling with the Irish team is the equivalent of someone trying to quit drink, but being invited to a wedding every day of the week.

NQ: Well, the morning after that well-documented drink we had with the press, Roy was chatting to us, asking us how we got on. He wasn’t upset about it at all, just interested to know what kind of night it had been.

There’s some belief that Roy was lying in his bed going mad because all the players were out drinking and he was like a demon wanting to go out, but knowing he couldn’t. There’s some sort of feeling that that’s the way it was. Not at all. Roy came down the next morning, listened to the stories, the craic and all the rest of it.

In that particular sense, he very much understood what the players were doing. But again, the press fellas were, I think, running amok. I think one of them suggested there recently, ‘Make no mistake, that was the reason Roy left Saipan’. That’s an absolutely ridiculous thing to say. This thing will run and run and run, but it shouldn’t, because there’s so many people stabbing guesses at what went on, and trying to figure out what makes various people tick. I personally feel that we’ve had enough of it now. Even though I’ve spoken about it, I’m hoping to give a balanced view and air a few answers that people might be looking for.

HP: Knowing Mick and Roy as you do, how likely is it that Roy will play international football again?

NQ: I think Mick McCarthy is big enough to take a phone call or take a hint and act on it. He might never want to speak about it publicly but behind the scenes I think he would. Just don’t ask me to get involved. (Laughs) That ruined my life the last time. There I was with this testimonial, a lovely way to finish my career, I had the World Cup to look forward to and suddenly I’m left with the fallout of this hanging over me. But no matter how bad it is for me, it’s nothing compared to how it is for Roy.

HP:Your description in the book of the night you all spent drinking with the journalists in Saipan is very funny…

NQ: That was a real good night. There was no animosity anywhere, except towards the end of the night when we were all several sheets to the wind. That always happens when you get a footballer and a press man: ‘You wrote something bad about me.’ That was it then, the night had to end instantly and we all went our separate ways. I got grief last week in Ireland for talking about it. Roy had already talked about it so I felt I’d include it in the book. Everyone knew we’d gone on a session.

What I couldn’t believe last week was that people were saying that (a) I was wrong to talk about it and (b) it was wrong to go out drinking 13 or 14 nights before our first game. Even people like Tony Cascarino condemned it and that’s just stupid. Tony, more than anybody, should realise what makes the squad.

HP: Do you worry about Richard Dunne? He seems to have had his own drink-related problems lately at Manchester City.

NQ: I dunno. Hopefully Dunney will worry for himself and turn it around. He’s never let anyone down in terms of his performances for Ireland. One of the first things I said to you was that a footballer is only as strong as the belief his manager has in him. I think Dunney needs a bit of paternal guidance, and maybe to go out and give Thierry Henry the toughest game he’s ever had in his life. If something like that happens, rather than celebrate it by going out drinking, he should go home, put his feet up in front of The Premiership and have a wry smile about how well he’s played. Then, when the time is right, he can go out and have a few pints in a back street pub where nobody will know who he is.

HP: Do you think Kevin Keegan is the right man to whip him into shape?

NQ: I‘d question whether or not Kevin Keegan should have called a press conference to say that one of his players had come in smelling of drink. I’m not so sure I’d have been around if Kevin Keegan had been my manager. He’d have had to call a lot of press conferences!

HP: Kevin Kilbane, a team-mate of yours at club level, gets an awful lot of abuse from Sunderland fans for no obvious reason. Does it annoy you?

It does annoy me that the fans boo Kevin Kilbane, who gives everything in the locker, particularly when a few of our now-departed foreign brethren didn’t put in the same effort. I found that really hard, but there’s not really anything I can do about it. But Kev has given it his all, faced up to the abuse and took it on.

Kev Kilbane has been an absolute credit to himself and his family for the strength of purpose he’s shown over the character assassinations he’s been receiving. He’s a really super guy. I mean, my daughter’s not old enough, obviously, but if you had to pick a husband for your daughter, Kevin Kilbane is the kind of guy you’d pick.