Tom Humphriesshares the wit and hard-won wisdom that has already made this managerial novice the most talked about gaffer in the English Championship

Last Friday night Niall Quinn attended a dinner held in Dublin for those who had soldiered in Ireland teams. He spent the night sitting beside his old comrade Terry Phelan. These days Phelan lives on a small island off New Zealand. Quinn, who hadn't seen his old pal in half a decade, was intrigued. Between courses he peppered the old full back with a long series of questions about how life was on the other side of the world.

Eventually, after the meal had been served and the ports and the brandies had been drunk and the clock was pushing midnight, Phelan turned to Quinn and said: "So Niall, what are you doing with yourself these days?" Quinn smiled and said that he was chairman of Sunderland football club.

"Really?" said Phelan, impressed, "and who's the manager there?"

"Well," said Quinn, "Fair play to you Phelo. You're the last man on earth to know!"

Today the earth gets back to spinning as normal after a short intermission to allow for the heightened madness of international football. This afternoon the city of Cardiff braces itself for the visit of Sunderland AFC, their immense horde of travelling fans and their talismanic young manager.

Cardiff know perhaps better than most clubs the extraordinary effect Roy Keane's arrival has had on this year's Championship race. When Keane finally signed on for Sunderland, going with his hunch that, despite a four-game losing streak, here was a good engine which could be mended, Cardiff were the early pace-setters, holding pole position on a crowded grid.

Today Cardiff loiter a point beyond the season's salvation that is a play-off place. Sunderland are removed by the same margin from the automatic promotion expressway. Roy Keane, though he regards none of the fuss as relevant or helpful, is the most lauded and most remarked on manager in Championship football.

Those who have watched him at close quarters swear that Keane made himself into a great footballer, but that he was born to manage. The rest of us who view him from a distance and through the prism of an excitable media see a different Keane emerging, a rounded figure no longer driven by the same rages but still obsessed with excellence. A man whose perspective on life is increasingly on show in the flashes of humour, wisdom and self-deprecation he offers when speaking about management.

The persistent obloquy which has attended his name for so long is melting like a polar ice cap, especially in the British media. Keane, the manager, reveals different dimensions of himself.

Last week in Dublin at his annual visit to launch the Irish Guide Dogs for the Blind Shades Day, Keane sat in a room with the Irish media and, despite his best intentions, found himself answering questions about the FAI and the Ireland team. The result was an inevitable slew of headlines which ratcheted up the excitement levels concerning Ireland's games with Wales and Slovakia.

"I got back home," he says, "and the teletext headline had, Keane blasts former team-mates. I never said that. It's like that's my name, Roy Keane Blasts. I was on a bit of a guilt trip about the whole business afterwards. I got sucked into a lot of things. I'd made comments about Liam (Miller).

"I was disappointed that one or two of our players weren't selected, but I wasn't looking to go out and hammer anybody over it. I still feel strongly about the FAI. I just got dragged into it. I don't want people to think I'm negative all the time. Far from it. About the FAI, though, I've experienced them. There has to be changes. If I stuck my head in the sand, I wouldn't like that either."

Same old Roy. Like the Camus character Merseault, Keane has an almost heroic disconnection from the ways in which the world expects him to speak and to react. The first question in Dublin was an easy lob. Wouldn't he have loved to have played in Croke Park? The answer was short. No! He has brought a lot of things to the job of management, sifting an epic career's worth of experiences through his own judgment and using what he needs. He has changed his views on many things, made peace with Niall Quinn and Mick McCarthy among others. His opinion of people who run Irish soccer isn't next on the list for revision, though.

Keane talks about passing "what's-his-name, Delaney" in hotels when he came back to play with the Ireland team under Brian Kerr. "And there was no acknowledgment from him, I don't think I've ever spoken to him. Can't remember having a conversation. Nothing had changed. They all deserve each other."

He pauses, and continues. He sees a lot of positives. Perhaps he shouldn't comment, he says. He believes, though, if you do the same things all the time and get the same results all the time that it's a sign of insanity to hope that anything will change.

At Sunderland things have changed drastically and vertically.

Late in May last year, after a call from Michael Kennedy, Keane travelled to Kildare for a meeting in the house of one of the investors in the Drumaville consortium. Keane recalls the evening as being quite informal. He wore a suit, but no tie, that sort of a do. Before the chat started he and Quinn, who famously hadn't spoken since Saipan, adjourned to a private room to bury a hatchet.

Neither will offer details of what was said. Quinn says he wasn't sure whether to put his hands up to guard his face or his arms out to offer a hug. Keane says it was something he wanted to put to rest and regardless of how the Sunderland business worked out he was glad to have done it. It was a positive evening, generally. Keane endorsed Quinn's view that Sunderland was a club which could have greatness. For Quinn, Keane's concurrence meant a lot in terms of securing the confidence of the investors.

If there was a disappointment it was that Keane was adamant he wanted to finish the work he was doing towards his A badge in coaching. "I had a bee in my bonnet about that," he says.

"He didn't shut the door entirely," says Quinn, "at least I thought there was some hope." Meanwhile, Sunderland spoke to Sam Allardyce and to Martin O'Neill in the course of the summer. They were warned off one and couldn't quite get the measure of the other. When the season started with Quinn uncomfortably in charge at Sunderland another feeler was put out to Keane.

"I was in Portugal with the family. I'd really enjoyed the coaching course. After Celtic, I fell out of love with the game a little bit, but the course gave me a love back for it. It's a good life out in the fresh air.

"Michael got in touch again and he said Sunderland were back on. Sunderland ticked all the boxes for me and the family. Even Niall! I spoke with Theresa and she said, 'go for it'."

So roughly 30 games later, Sunderland are on the cusp of something huge. Already the club have sold 9,000 season tickets for next season. Sales don't usually start trickling in till April and May of any given year. This year Sunderland sold 17,000 season tickets in all. If the club reaches the Premiership they expect to final figure for next year to exceed 35,000.

Financially, Keane will be backed all the way. Himself? He would be the last person to count unhatched chickens, but he does concede he watches some Premiership teams and says to himself, "we'd take them".

In the land of the Makems he has become an outsized folk hero. His hymn of devotion (an amended version of Hey Jude) is vying with the established classic Niall Quinn's Disco Pants as the favoured local anthem. For a man whose previous most celebrated association with Sunderland was being sent off having cuffed Jason McAteer before declining Niall Quinn's offer of a handshake, it is a remarkable metamorphosis.

What completed the change in the view of many was two incidents earlier this month. The first came after Sunderland travelled to the midlands and beat West Brom in a key promotion game. The WBA manager Tony Mowbray made some incautiously sour remarks after the game about Sunderland, their style of play and his view that West Brom remained a better team. The following week quietly and effectively Keane warned the managers of losing teams not to denigrate his own side.

A week later came his decision to leave behind three players (Anthony Stokes, Marton Fulop and Tobias Hysen) when the team bus had to travel to an away game at Barnsley. Sunderland travelled three light and won the game. No regrets.

"The lads were late. Almost 15 minutes late. We had waited. Other players were on the bus. They had been told on numerous occasions. There's no grudges held. When I'm on the bus I have five minutes to make a decision.

"We were supposed to leave at quarter past. It was near enough half. I was getting calls. They're just coming off this junction and that junction. We had to go. We had to go. They made a mistake, they missed the game. No grudges."

But in Sunderland, where the populace had become accustomed to the sight of overpaid underachievers whizzing around town in garish Ferraris, the incident was a key part in restoring the club to the values of the community it serves. While Sunderland consciously seek to make renewed contact with that community, Keane has quietly established a solid set of values at the football level. Sunderland do things the right way. Hotels the night before games whether they are home or away. Blazers for the squad. Discipline on the field and off it.

Keane says he is under no illusions. His own rap sheet is familiar. Just about every spat he had with managers over the years was public knowledge. He knows his players know. He hopes his experiences bring something to the mix when he does have to sort a player out. Meanwhile, who'd have the guts to visit the sins of the caterpillar upon the wings of the butterfly, anyway?

"Again we hope we'll be different, but I do live in the real world. Players are human beings. We see them having a bit of bother. We want high standards. It comes from simple things like travelling to games, looking the part. Top clubs see that. We send the message out. The lads, though, have one or two days off and you don't know what is around the corner.

"I'm not daft enough to think that nothing can happen or that I can take care of them 24 hours a day. Things happen. There's been one or two things that haven't got out in the media and we try to deal with it and try to be fair. Players will make mistakes. No doubt."

He grins and recalls an incident which could have turned a Sunday afternoon at Christmas a little ugly. "The lads do impressions of me. They've gone to Glasgow for their Christmas do and they've rang me from the do and I could hear somebody in the background doing an impression of me. I've got a good idea who it was, but no proof! I could hear it in the background.

"Of course, they take the mick out of me. As long as it's in a nice way it's okay! I've a good idea who it was, but I can't prove it yet! It's fine. They were brave enough after the few pints to ring me up on a Sunday afternoon to take the mick out of me. I'll bide my time! Players will make mistakes."

Managers too? "Don't think I have made any!" he says with a laugh. "Ah, in one or two situations where players have left. I didn't come in here all guns blazing, though. A good friend told me that in the first two or three months in charge one or two players would test me. His exact words were, 'you've got to take their heads off'. There were one or two incidents about behaviour on the pitch. That was a test in terms of how I dealt with it. I try to be fair."

During the week he doesn't go near the dressingrooms. The coaches will go down and put up the teams and numbers for various sessions and drills. Names and squad lists on the notice board. The same coaches will pick up the banter and if anyone is unhappy it comes back. Not in a childish, tell-tale way, just as necessary business. Keane will chat with senior players occasionally and try to pick it up on their body language.

If it's a surprise Keane isn't obsessively micro-managing his players, getting in their faces 24/7, it is in keeping with his increased mellowness.

"Personally, I think I have the balance right now. I made a few deals with myself when I came into this. I would make the effort of not living in the job when I got it. It helps in a strange way that the family are in Manchester right now. When I Ieave I switch off. I'm gone. When I'm working, I'm working and the intensity boils down to two days. Match day and the day before."

Those two days are when he earns his corn. He puts a lot of work into getting every thing right, down to his 10-minute team-talks. "When I'm in, I'm in. I get in most mornings at quarter to eight with Tony (Loughlin) and one or two of the staff. We work out. We spend an hour in the gym and the pool and then start work. And when I'm off, I'm off. In a way you can forget about the work I do on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. The big days of the week for me are Friday and Saturday. It boils down to that.

"I look at players. Who's looking well? Who's trained well? I get my thoughts ready and prepare my team-talk. I talk to Tony and I say to him 'my time is tomorrow'. It can boil down to 10 minutes on a Saturday. It's not bad!"

Surprisingly for a man whose aloneness as a player was almost impregnable, he socialises regularly in Sunderland. He was out with staff last week at Ricky Gervais in Sunderland. He had appeared a week previously at a Sandra Bullock movie with half a dozen of so from the team and a gang of backroom operators. On many nights in Durham he will make a point of going for a meal with staff members.

" I didn't do that enough as a player," he says. "I was too intense. For me, the ultimate relaxation is being with my family. Or maybe the most relaxation I get is still when I am out with my dog. Just walking."

Relaxation comes easier when you are winning and Sunderland have yet to lose a league game this year. Keane puts that down mainly to the quality of player he has been able to pick up in an intense period of transfer dealings which remarkably cost the club just £1 million in the end. Bids came in for those he hoped to get rid off. He got his hands on those he knew and admired.

Perhaps because he was looking for something different. "Once a fella can pass the bloody ball we're looking for character."

He claims he has been lucky in this regard. He has built a team with character. Their record of scoring late goals this season is unrivalled and speaks well of the personality of the team he has assembled or at least their fear of coming back in to face him having failed.

He says he has been lucky with the transfers and lucky with the staff he has put together. His own role he is modest about. Those 10-minute team-talks bring out the perfectionist in him, though.

"There might be a gut feeling, something that came to me during the week about our own team and our own performance. There might be something I might have heard before, but I try to add my own piece to it. Yeah, I work on them. We make players aware of the opposition. Five or 10 minutes of the opposition on DVD and then I talk to them. That's all you have really, 10 minutes.

"For a few years I went down a road of looking at a lot of books and reading and trying to improve myself that way. As usual with me, I went too far the other way. I think I looked at other people in other areas too much. I think the most valuable bits I've picked up were off previous managers. I refer even to Rockmount there. The best managers always hit the nail on the head. Obviously, Alex Ferguson. I would have looked to question him on certain games.

"I'd feel in my bones what the team might need on a certain day. And I'd have to say he was usually spot on. He came in and gave what was needed. Sometimes we'd need to be relaxed. Sometimes we'd need a bit of a gee up. Usually, he came in spot on. I'd be saying to myself, this is what the team needs I hope he comes in from that angle.

"That's what I would try to do as a player and I would pick things up that way. Books and stuff you pick up things from, too. People I meet in other walks of life. They have a lot of words of wisdom. And a lot from my own experiences. You get lads who have stepped out of line, lads who need a break. You have to pass on your experiences."

Life at Sunderland can't be any more straightforward. Everyone faces the same direction. Keane speaks to Quinn very rarely and points out quickly that it would be that way with the chairman if he was working at any other club. He speaks more regularly to the chief executive, Peter Walker, because Walker's role is more hands on.

"Peter and Niall know my form, anyway. I get on with the football. The other stuff doesn't concern me. I don't get bogged down with it. My priority is a winning team. The other stuff will take care of itself."

And he is settling. Durham is beautiful, a tranquil university town. There's a train station there and he catches the train occasionally when he needs to go home to the family in Manchester. Right now he is looking at houses to buy. He has it narrowed down to two.

Come the summer, the kids and Theresa are moving up. "It's the way you have to do it. But! This lad, the estate agent I'm buying the house from, he looks after Newcastle and Sunderland. He told me every manager he has looked after has been sacked within four weeks of buying a house. He shouldn't have told me. I'm kind of reluctant to buy one off him now. That's the reality, though. I speak to other managers and coaches, they commute and travel because of the uncertainty."

Less than a full season into his first year as a manager and the club he runs frets already that he will leave them for his old loves at Manchester United. If there is uncertainty, it is not in Keane's mind.

"Listen," he says, "no doubt Sunderland have the potential to be what they want to be, but there's lot of clubs in England who feel that way. It is wrong to suggest I see Sunderland as some sort of stepping stone to anywhere else. I don't think you can think that way. I have a three-year contact. I know my character traits. As long as I keep being allowed to get along with the job I've been brought here to do, there won't be any problems. I could see myself being here for a year. I could see 10 years.

"I don't see Sunderland as a stepping-stone. That would be an insult. I don't sit home at night thinking that one day I want to manage Manchester United. It's a big challenge here at Sunderland. We've a Championship team and nearly 40,000 at matches. What an insult that would be."

If he ever leaves it will the same old story. Every place he has gone from he has left behind too big a gap for any one person to fill. Every place he goes to shudders with the thrill of excitement and the whiff of cordite that he brings to the game.

Keep watching.