Paul Thomas: Ghostly role of sport star's mouthpiece

In one of the biggest book deals in British publishing history, HarperCollins has announced it will pay Wayne Rooney $14.3 million to produce five books over the next decade.

Bookworms and those who like to announce the arrival of the next big thing needn't squirm with shame because they're unacquainted with this literary hot property: Rooney is a footballer.

To be specific he's a 20-year-old Manchester United and England striker who grew up on Liverpool's mean streets and has already chalked up his first tabloid disgrace (for dallying with a prostitute shortly after becoming engaged to his childhood sweetheart).

While undoubtedly precocious - he made his premier league debut at 16 and became the youngest-ever England player a year later - and regarded by some as the most exciting talent Britain has produced since George Best, five volumes of autobiography by the age of 30 seems a stretch.

There's no evidence to suggest he's unusually thoughtful or articulate, although analysis of television footage by amateur lip readers has revealed a remarkable affinity for the F word.

Reflecting on Rooney's aura of sunken-eyed menace, the Guardian's gonzo sports columnist Steven Wells noted that he bears no resemblance to the conventional, central casting image of the young hero.

According to Wells, Rooney looks like "a 45-year-old bouncer whose hobbies include stalking female newsreaders and whacking crucified kittens with a hammer."

None of this is Rooney's problem; he can carry on scoring goals and abusing referees in the happy knowledge that he doesn't face the Herculean task of squeezing half a million odd words out of his brief, one-dimensional existence. Although the books will have his name on the covers, they'll actually be the work of ghost writers.

The first book is due out after this year's World Cup, which HarperCollins management are no doubt praying England will win courtesy of a Rooney hat-trick in the final.

It will be written by veteran author Hunter Davies, authorised biographer of the Beatles, whose other subjects include Beatrix Potter, William Wordsworth and, er, Paul "Gazza" Gascoigne.

Assuming he can bridge the five-decade age difference between himself and his subject, I suspect Davies' greatest challenge will be getting Rooney to say something other than [expletive]. As the writer Tim Adams pointed out in last weekend's Observer, great sportsmen tend to do their talking on the field.

He cited the example of W.G. Grace's ghost, who was driven to distraction by the great man's reticence: "All he would say in recording some dazzling batting feat was, 'Then I went in and made 284'."

I know how he felt. I've ghosted four books, three of which were reasonably straightforward undertakings. The exception was working with All Black John Kirwan.

On one level this was a plum assignment since it involved spending a month in the lovely northern Italian town of Treviso where Kirwan plied his trade during the off-season.

Kirwan had scant interest in revisiting past glories or analysing his or the team's performances. Although a trailblazer in terms of physical preparation, once out on the field he just did what came naturally, hence the title Running On Instinct.

Thus after an hour's unrewarding interrogation, Kirwan would claim to be mentally drained and insist we went out for a coffee. He became increasingly hard to pin down so I had to resort to interviewing him on his way to and from practice, a task made more difficult by his refusal to drive around the block without Van Morrison blaring out of the car's speakers.

It was only when we got on to his battle with depression that he opened up. Having made the brave decision to reveal his illness in the hope that it would help fellow sufferers and increase public understanding, he matter-of-factly related the torment he had endured at the height of his fame.

On reading the manuscript, his only specific comment was to express appreciation for the way I'd handled that subject. I assume he read the rest of the book but I wouldn't bet on it.

By contrast, Kirwan's mentor, All Black coach John Hart, was a ghost writer's dream: organised, disciplined, perfectionist. I'd tell him what we had to cover in the session, he'd skim the scrapbooks and the New Zealand Rugby Almanacs and off he'd go.

I've come full circle in the ghosting lark. Having started with cricketer John Wright's Christmas In Rarotonga, a much-loved book if I may say so, I'm now assisting him with the sequel, which covers his five tumultuous years as coach of India.

Wright's strengths as a subject are his sense of humour, eye for offbeat detail and interest in other people. Anyone contemplating an autobiography would do well to bear in mind that it's not just about you.