The word was that I was a bit arrogant when I joined Manchester United. I didn’t mix with other players as readily as I may have done and I never claimed to be the life and soul of the team.

In truth, I was simply quiet, private and didn’t want to make too much of a fuss in my new surroundings. Thankfully, I had somebody who looked after me: Ryan Giggs. He was my roommate and did his best to make me feel welcome. That was when he wasn’t sleeping. Or I wasn’t sleeping. Being ultra-professional, we both needed to rest as much as possible before matches.

Ryan took me on nights out, invited me for dinner and lunch, too. I stayed at his house and met all the friends he’d grown up with. He’s still best mates with them. They treat him the same as they always did. It helps him stay grounded, not that he’s ever been in danger of getting carried away. It was exactly what I needed when I moved to a new city. We got on well. Still do.

When I look at Ryan, I see a future manager of Manchester United, a Pep Guardiola figure for Old Trafford. He’ll be a great manager and would command huge respect from players simply for his achievements in football – not that he’s big-headed.

He’s not too emotional and knows how to deal with people. I’ve never seen him visibly upset. He leads by example in the way he plays and looks after himself, the way he leads his life as a footballer. You don’t hear footballers speak ill of him because he doesn’t give them a reason to.

But if you annoy him he’ll blank you – in a nice way. To say that he doesn’t suffer fools is an understatement. He gets the measure of people and has little time for people who talk a good story. He can stick up for himself and he looks after himself.

He wants to follow Luis Enrique’s example and enter in an iron-man competition when he retires. I’ve no idea when that will be and I don’t think Ryan does, either.

To think about retirement, you need to think about retirement. You get to a point where you’ve had enough. I had it at Nottingham Forest. I didn’t like the attitude of the young players, nor the manager. I called it a day.

Gary Neville had a terrible game at West Brom before he retired. That was his moment. I spoke to Paul Scholes last week. He’d had enough too. It wasn’t that he couldn’t still play at the highest level, because he could. He’d just had enough of it all and felt it was time to stop playing. He doesn’t regret that decision.

Every footballer, like every boxer, knows when he’s had enough. Giggs, to my knowledge, still enjoys playing and he’s still good enough to play. There’s not been a hint of him wanting to retire. He’s 46 games short of 1,000 competitive games for Manchester United. When I played at Old Trafford, Sir Bobby Charlton’s 759 game appearance record was viewed as untouchable.

Giggs left that behind long ago. I’ve just returned from Leverkusen, where he was one of the best players on the pitch. He’s still doing it at the highest level in the Champions League. He’s getting huge amounts of credit on his 40th birthday and he deserves it. He’s overcome the lows, including abuse from his own fans to still play on.

There’s no way he’d still be playing if he wasn’t at Manchester United. The stability of the club and Sir Alex Ferguson suited him perfectly. He’s also been intelligent enough to change his game. You don’t see so many of the jinky runs that were the norm when I played with him, nor is he up and down the wing, yet he makes better passes than at any stage in his career. Why? Experience. He hit a pass to Robin van Persie at West Ham last season which left me saying “wow”. He hit the ball with the outside of his left foot over a defender’s head. It led to a goal.

Giggs is good to be around, and if I’ve painted a picture of a quiet lad, then that’s not entirely accurate. Whenever United won a trophy, which was often, the night would end with him standing on a table dancing and singing Rapper’s Delight by the Sugar Hill Gang. He’s a cool lad who dresses well and enjoys a wide spread of music, though he didn’t always look it when he did his body-popping and break-dancing.

Andrew Cole’s column is written with the assistance of Andy Mitten, European football correspondent

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