David Flatman Column: Never mind Rooney’s demands, it was money for muffin in my day!

This column appears in the current issue of Sport magazine.

All the fuss around the potential re-signing of Wayne Rooney at Manchester United and all the reported efforts being made by his manager remind me hugely of when I brokered my last deal as a rugby player.

Rumours were unleashed in the papers about a likely departure from Bath, my home club, and the world went mad. My phone rang off the hook and my agent was flooded with messages from the West Country bosses as they clamoured to stop El Niño leaving a huge club without a soul. Enormous wage demands were agreed in seconds. We sat amused at home on my sofa, playing computer games as they scurried around, presumably checking down the back of the couch for extra cash.

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly like that. What happened was that the boss texted to ask if I fancied a coffee.

We met and even had a muffin - this was a money-no-object occasion. Having attained enough stamps on my loyalty card, I offered him a second round of drinks, only having to pay for one with actual money. It was a great feeling and we both really enjoyed both coffees. 

“So do you wanna stay, mate?” he asked, “Yeah, I’m keen,” I responded. “Shall we just go same again then?” he offered. “Yeah, cool,” I agreed. And that was it.

Admittedly, it took a while to get the thing done, but that was because of a broken printer. You know what it’s like when the toner goes - but the club got the printer fixed, I borrowed a biro and the job was done. 

Believe it or not, a big French club was also interested in acquiring my services - and those lads go large when recruiting from abroad. We followed up on their initial email, just in case Bath didn’t fancy it, and the meeting was as fabulous as it was ridiculous. 

“How much you want?” asked the guy, before the sandwiches had even arrived. I said a number and he said: “Yes. That’s done. What else you need?” I was in confident mood, having just had a silly salary agreed as if it were peanuts, so said I would need a four-bedroom house, a dog walker for when I was away, two cars (one for Mrs F, natch) and ten return flights to England for my family. “No problem. You need two years or three?”

I was honest and told this chap that I would stay put if Bath wanted me. He shrugged and asked for the bill, which he paid in cash. He was a great bloke with a big budget, but home was where my heart was.
Anyway,

I couldn’t have taken the media onslaught had I left.

If you'd like to support Flats in his bid to run the Bath half-marathon (yes, really!), here's how you can