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Bang! Everything goes dead mad, dead quick.

Then that feeling kicks in – an unbelievable feeling of ­satisfaction I get from scoring a goal in the Premier League.

Like the sensation I get when I’ve smashed a golf ball flush off the face of the club and watched it trickle on to the green.

It’s a high, a mad rush of power.

It’s a wave of emotion – but it takes me over like nothing else.

This feeling of putting one away for Manchester United is huge. If I could bottle the buzz, I’d make the best energy drink ever.

A heartbeat later and I’m at normal speed again, I’m coming round. Everything’s in focus: the sound, a roar loud enough to hurt my ears, the aching in my legs, the sweat running down my neck, the mud on my kit.

More and more noise; it’s so big, it’s right on top of me. Someone’s grabbing at my shirt, my heart’s banging out of my chest.

The crowd are singing my name: ‘Rooney, Rooney, ­Rooooo-neeee!’

And there’s no better feeling in the world. Then I look up and see the ­scoreboard:

FEBRUARY 12, 2011: United 2 City 1

GOAL! Rooney, 77 minutes

Who I am and what I’ve done comes back to me in a rush, a hit, like a boxer coming round after a sniff of smelling salts.

I’m Wayne Rooney. I’ve played Premier League football since 2002 and I’ve just scored the winning goal in a Manchester derby – probably the most ­important game of the season to fans from the red half of town.

A goal that puts our noisy neighbours – the other lot – in their place. A goal that reminds them United have more history and more success than they do right now. A goal that warns the rest of the country we’re on our way to winning another Premier League title.

As I stand with my arms spread wide, head back, I can feel the hate coming from the City fans behind me, it’s like static electricity. The abuse, the screaming and swearing, is bouncing off me.

I don’t give a toss.

I know how much they hate me; I can ­understand where they are coming from though, because I go through the same emotions whenever I lose at anything.

This time, they’re wound up and I’m not. I know it doesn’t get any better than this.

As I jog back to the centre circle, still tingling, I go into rewind. It’s ridiculous, I know, but I’m worried I might never feel this way again. I want to remember what’s just happened, to relive the moment over and over because it feels so good.

We close out the game 2–1. Everyone gathers round me in the dressing room afterwards, they want to talk about the goal. But I’m done in, I’ve nothing left; it’s all out there on the pitch, along with that overhead kick.

The room is buzzing; Rio Ferdinand is buzzing. ‘Wow,’ he says.

Read more exclusive Wayne Rooney extracts on the truth about being overweight, his hair transplant and being injured.

Pluslosing the Premier League title in injury time, Why he might play in midfield eventually, How his young son helps him forget pain of losing, and THAT overhead kick against City

Extracted from My Decade in the Premier League by Wayne Rooney with a foreword by Sir Alex Ferguson. To be published by HarperSport on 13th Sept @ £20 ©Wayne Rooney 2012.