Peter Crouch has just released his autobiography and in it, the footballer has revealed dozens of interesting facts and stories.
From Cristiano Ronaldo standing infront of the mirror naked to doing that famous robot celebration – the former English International has opened the lid on many a secret.
But one particular story involves him and his swanky new Aston Martin which he was forced to sell because of Man United legend Roy Keane.
Crouch wrote: “I’m 24 years old, I’ve just been signed by reigning European champions Liverpool — and it has gone to my head. I’ve bought an Aston Martin and I’m driving around Manchester with the windows down, sunglasses on, elbow resting on the sill, steering with two fingers, speed garage music blasting out of the stereo.
“I don’t even like speed garage. I’m not sure I like this car. A little voice keeps telling me an Aston Martin really isn’t me but a louder voice is telling me that as an England international playing for Liverpool, the old rules no longer apply. Big voice: Peter, you’ve never looked cooler. Little voice: Peter, you’re a monstrous b*ll-e*d.
“And so I’m cruising around, trying to convince myself I look like Steve McQueen or Daniel Craig, ignoring the old Peter telling me I’ve become everything I swore I wouldn’t, and I pull up at a set of traffic lights and there’s Roy Keane in his car right next to me.
“Ah, there’s a man who understands my vibe. Fantastic footballer, winner of multiple titles, cups and the Champions League, captain and heartbeat of Manchester United.
“I give him a nod. I give him a wink. I may even point my index finger at him and make a clicking sound at the same time. All of it saying, you and me, eh, Roy? Same game, same level. In it together. Rivals yet friends who just haven’t met before. Alright, Roy?
“He looks back at me, disgust on his face. He shakes his head and stares ahead. I’m frozen in my pose, grin slipping off my face, and when the lights change and he drives off without a backward glance I’m left there with the handbrake on and an awful realisation: oh my God, I’ve become one of those t**ts.
“I sold the Aston Martin the next day. A £25,000 hit on it, and I considered myself lucky. All because of Roy Keane — Roy, as my absent conscience, a modern-day footballer’s spiritual guide.
“That moment at that set of traffic lights was the best thing that ever happened to me. Had I kept the car I would have hated myself a little bit more every day. I hadn’t realised how quickly I had reached Peak Footballer. I see it now with some of the young lads coming through, making the first-team and within a week getting the hat-trick of tattoo sleeve, sports car and Beats headphones.
“You should never get ahead of yourself car-wise; no Merc when you’re still in the youth team, no Porsche unless you’re a Premier League regular. But it sneaks up on you. That single glance from Roy Keane was a turning point for me; I came crashing back to earth. Thank you, Roy. Maybe he didn’t even know it was me. He just thought, there’s a t**t. And who could have argued with him?”