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Ronaldo paddy crerand autobiography

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There's only one Paddy Crerand

It hasnâÂÂt been the most relaxing week of my life, not that my workload mattered one bit to the former United player and European Cup winner Paddy Crerand.

I fixed it for Paddy to appear in a United fansâ area by the beach in Barcelona. IâÂÂve known him for over 15 years and wrote his autobiography with him last year. It was a great experience listening to the story of his life, his views and watching Paddy and wife Noreen â a former Gorbals beauty queen â argue in the kitchen about what film they watched on their first date. The final edition ran to 290 pages. It would have been twice that had I included all his swearing.

On Wednesday, I told Paddy to get a taxi into central Barcelona to meet me. âÂÂIâÂÂm not doing that, I canâÂÂt speak the language,â he said, âÂÂyouâÂ&Acir

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Manchester United legend shoots down myth of Ronaldo 'ego'

"This talk about his ego is a load of s***," former Manchester United midfielder Crerand said.

"That is something that has come out somewhere along the way from people that don't know him.

"I know him well and that isn't the case. Nothing ever went to his head."

Many are inclined to disagree with the Red Devils legend.

There was certainly a lack of humility when Ronaldo was named the best player on the planet at the Ballon d'Or gala in Zurich last month.

Ronaldo ended his acceptance speech by letting out a triumphant yell into the microphone while his great adversary Lionel Messi watched on awkwardly.



Crerand thinks Ronaldo's critics have got him all wrong insisting confidence has been mistaken for arrogance.

"Ronaldo is one of the nicest people you could ever wish to meet," he said.

"He's confident about he does. What's wrong with that?"

There was a moment during United's pre-season tour of the United St

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United

  1. 1. You’re Paddy Crerand?

I was ten years old when I found out I was not the lone Patrick Crerand in this world. My family had just moved from Xenia, Ohio to Columbus in October of 1987, missing the start of my fifth grade year by about two months. I walked into the school on the first day introducing myself as PC to anyone who would listen.

“The empty desk next to you is for another newcomer named Simon,” my teacher said.

“He’s Irish and broke his collarbone,” someone said to me as if the two had been of equal importance.

Unlike me, Simon had gotten here on time and hurt himself playing a slide-tackling game on a hill at recess. When he finally returned from the hospital, we became fast friends.

The first time I went to his house to play soccer, his father, Joe, a salt-and-peppered haired Belfaster, didn’t believe me when I introduced myself.

“Go on now,” he said. “You’re fooling. There’s only one Paddy Crerand.”

I didn’t know what to do. Up until this point, I had always figured

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