Davies Hunter - Wayne Rooney - my story so far

We have got the best young player this country
has seen in the past 30 years.

Sir Alex Ferguson

He is not a potential talent anymore, he is ready.
I dont need to tell him how to score goals his
vision is incredible, hes ready for anything.

Sven-Goran Eriksson

Hes a very exciting talent who shows maturity
and composure beyond his young years.

Pel

Wayne Rooney is a phenomenal talent and has
already achieved a lot. He could go on to be
as great as Bobby Charlton and help England
win the World Cup.

Diego Maradona

Rooneys one of the best players in the world,
without doubt.

Ronaldinho

Stamford Bridge, 29 April 2006. Chelsea got an early goal. William Gallas headed in from a corner, which of course should never have happened after all the work we do in training defending set-pieces. Five minutes in and we were already chasing the game.

All the same, in the first half, we didnt do too badly. I had a chance when I broke away down the middle, got into the penalty area, managed to hold off two defenders, with only the goalie to beat but I shot wide. Some commentators later said the grass was too long that day. Im not blaming the grass. The ball just got stuck under my foot and I didnt manage a clear shot.

In the second half, we went two-down when Joe Cole scored. Then I got booked for a rash tackle and the crowd started shouting, Rooney, Rooney, whats thescore? In the 72nd minute, they scored a third. I felt sick. It was horrible. I could sense some of our team wanting it to be all over, just waiting for the whistle to blow, though I dont think our heads went down. Mine certainly didnt. It never does. However late in the game, however desperate, I always think Ill score.

In the 78th minute, I got another chance. This time to the left, heading towards the Chelsea penalty area. As I was breaking away, their full-back, Paulo Ferreira, caught me. It was a fair tackle, nothing nasty, but he managed to nick the ball off me. More of a tangle rather than a tackle, really. I went down. And I stayed down.

Somehow, his knee had banged into the back of my right calf. The impact made my lower leg buckle under the pressure. Immediately, I felt something pop. In my right foot. But I didnt know where or what.

All I knew was that the pain was agonising.

I couldnt move and was almost in tears, holding my head with the pain. Play stopped, as everyone began to realise Id suffered some sort of serious injury. The physios and the stretcher-bearers ran on. The crowd was hushed.

As I was carried off the pitch, I could hear the Chelsea fans, who had been jeering me when Id been yellow-carded, slowly clapping me off. I remember thinking, They dont need to do that but nice of them, all the same.

In the dressing room, the United doctor, Doc Stone, checked me out, trying to work out what Id done. I was confused because it felt different from the last time Id damaged my foot, in Euro 2004. On that occasion, I hadnt heard any pop, and didnt feel pain until I put my boot back on.

The docs first thought was that Id just overstretched the nerves. Thered been no serious tackle, Id not been clattered. But I thought no, its more than that. Something has gone. I heard it.

The doc said if it was overstretched nerves, Id be out for two weeks. I thought, oh no, Ill miss our last two games of the season.

Then I thought, if something has really gone wrong, if its a broken metatarsal, like that last time, I could miss the World Cup.

In the dressing room, it was very quiet. Not really because of me but because of our performance, being stuffed by Chelsea. No one was talking. The Boss didnt lay into us. He didnt have to. We all knew wed played rubbish.

It was decided I would go back to Manchester with the team rather than to a London hospital for an X-ray.

There was dead silence on the train. We were all so gutted. I didnt have the energy to play cards. I didnt even play my music.

Last time, it had been fourteen weeks before Id played again. I was working it out in my head. The Chelsea game was Saturday, 29 April. Englands first World Game game against Paraguay was Saturday 10 June. That meant it was exactly six weeks ahead.

If my injury was anywhere near as serious as I felt it was, I had no chance.

Id left my car at Old Trafford. The players always do that, before any match, home or away. I couldnt drive it of course. My foot was all strapped up with ice packs and stuff, but the pain had subsided, as Id been given painkillers.

Fortunately, that day Wes Brown had come in with me to Old Trafford. He lives quite near me, so Id given him a lift in my car. He said he would take it home for me.

From Manchester Piccadilly I went with the club doctor straight to the BUPA hospital in Whalley Range, where I had an X-ray. It showed nothing. But that didnt reassure me. I knew what Id heard and felt. They then did a scan, a CT scan, I think its called. That went on for a long time, some 45 minutes, with them asking me to hold on, while they did more. I realised by then that they had seen something.

Finally I was told the horrific news I had fractured the fourth metatarsal in my right foot and also chipped the third metatarsal. There was more damage than even Id imagined.

I had by then begun to think that perhaps I had imagined the pop. Or just hoped I had. Now I was devastated. It was the worst single moment in my life so far.

Things were repeating themselves. Euro 2004, my first big tournament, had ended for me when Id suffered the same injury. And in a clash with a Portuguese player.

It was by now ten oclock at night. I had rang Coleen earlier, but I knew she would be waiting for my call. I only said a few words on the phone. Id see her soon, she had been at a birthday party with her mates earlier in the day and was waiting at her mums in Liverpool. I wasnt sure who was going to take me home from the hospital, or whether I wanted to go home.

All these last ten years, all that hard work, all the dreams, playing football in the street and imagining I was Michael Owen. All that effort and sacrifice. It wasnt luck, getting to this stage. I deserved it. Now it looked as if my World Cup would be over before it had even begun