Rugby Spirit (11 page)

E
oin rushed back to the changing room, where he apologised to Mr Carey for the delay. ‘Nerves, sir,’ he muttered.

‘OK, lads, settle down. We’ll keep it simple and
concentrate
on cutting out the errors. You are Castlerock boys; you have everything you need to win this game. So go out and do it.’

Eoin walked out to the middle of the ground alone. The referee tossed him the ball, which he placed on the white line and kicked off towards the Havelock Square End.

A perfect drop kick was followed up by the forwards and the ball was taken cleanly. The pack were growing in confidence and having worked the ball up to the 22-metre line, Charlie picked up the ball and charged straight at the posts. Taken aback by his sheer neck, St Osgur’s hesitated and he was only three yards from the
line when they finally brought him to ground.

‘Brilliant, Chaz, just brilliant,’ chuckled Eoin as the Castlerock pack piled in to support their comrade.

Charlie had turned his body as he fell so the ball was on the attacking side, and Brendan picked it up and fed it back through his legs. Rory stood over the ball,
deciding
which way to pass, when Eoin nodded and pointed where he wanted the ball.

Rory flung the ball far in front of his out-half, but Eoin moved like lightning to run onto it, sidestep the St Osgur’s cover and dive over the line for a try.

He took the congratulations of his teammates before he turned to compose himself for the conversion. He struck the ball well, but a late gust of wind pushed it out to the right. Eoin held his breath as the ball hit the inside of the post and dropped down. The touch judges looked at each other and raised their flags – Castlerock were back within touching distance at 10-7.

But any thoughts that St Osgur’s would cave in were short-lived. They held steady as Castlerock tried to break through their solid defence, and began to come back into the game.

An Osgur’s attack down the right was held up on the 22, but Brendan came into the ruck from the side and the referee blew for a penalty.

‘We’ll kick it,’ said the St Osgur’s out-half, who duly slotted the ball over to extend their lead to six points.

Castlerock came roaring back, but chance after chance was wasted and with two minutes left they were still without reward. They were awarded a scrum on
half-way
, but there was a delay as a St Osgur’s player received treatment on an injured ankle.

Eoin supped from a bottle of water, and stared up high into the stands where the Leinster supporters were starting to take their seats ahead of the second big game of the day.

Just to the left of the box where his family were seated he spied Brian, his distinctive black, red and gold jersey standing out in a sea of blue. Brian stretched his arms wide, pointing to the wings. Eoin remembered his tip at half-time. It was worth trying.

‘Listen, guys,’ he told the backs, ‘their backs are all bunched up in the middle, let’s get the ball out to Joseph and Shane on the wings.’

Castlerock got a good heel from the scrum, and Charlie again controlled the ball between his feet. Rory plunged down, and threw the ball out quickly to Eoin, who ran ten metres before flinging the ball out far to his right. He had deliberately skipped Mikey O’Reilly at inside centre and the surprise move fooled St Osgur’s.

Phelim moved the ball on quickly to Shane Keane, and the winger suddenly discovered he was on his own in a vast area of free space. Shane was the fastest runner in the whole year at school, and he wasn’t going to be caught by anyone, especially with a ten-metre start.

He sprinted towards the posts and, with a cheeky dive, touched the ball down beneath them to bring the score to 13-12.

The crowd – which by this stage had swelled to more than twenty-five thousand – erupted. ‘Cas-tle-rock, Cas-tle-rock,’ they shouted, even the neutrals.

‘What’s left, ref?’ asked Eoin.

‘Nothing, son,’ he smiled. ‘This is the last kick of the game. Good luck.’

Eoin collected the ball from Shane, who was grinning from ear to ear. ‘Best of luck, Eoin, you’d kick this in your sleep.’

‘Thanks,’ muttered Eoin under his breath, ‘no pressure then.’

Shane was right, of course, but he didn’t realise how nervous Eoin had suddenly become. The out-half was totally aware of what was at stake – and that enormous roar that greeted the try was the first time he had
realised
how many people were now watching.

He knelt on one knee to prop the ball up on the
kicking tee. He looked towards the posts, and was
startled
to see Brian standing underneath them, just beside the touch judges.

‘Come on now, Eoin,’ he called out, ‘take your time, keep your eyes wide open and keep everything steady.’

Eoin smiled, and stared up at the white posts piercing the blue sky high above the stadium. He stepped back to his mark, and ran forwards, keeping his eye on where he was going to kick the ball.

Whump!

Eoin connected perfectly with the ball, and watched as it took off into the air, he knew it was straight and he knew it was true. The touch judges lifted their little flags and the referee blew his whistle, followed immediately by yet another blast.

That was the last thing Eoin heard before he was swamped by a sea of green and white shirts.

‘Oi, mind me ribs,’ he cried out, as the delighted teammates hugged him and each other in victory.

The boys ran around like lunatics for five minutes, before a delighted Mr Carey called them together. ‘OK lads, that was fantastic. I’m so proud of you all. Now go over and shake hands with every one of the St Osgur’s lads and let’s collect this cup. Jonny Sexton wants to get out here to play and we’re holding him up!’

Richie Duffy came onto the field, his arm strapped up in a sling. ‘Well done lads,’ he said, ‘… even The Bogger.’ Eoin looked at him, and suddenly felt a bit sorry for him.

‘Yeah, thanks, Duffy, we missed you today.’

The players looked around at each other, no one daring to be the one to laugh first.

‘Ha, ha, ha,’ roared Rory, ‘good one, Eoin.’

‘Yeah, good one,’ grinned Duffy. ‘Thanks for keeping my position warm, Madden, and well done today. But I’ll be back in No.10 next season.’

Eoin smiled, and pointed at the enormous silver cup sitting on a table in front of the West Stand, ‘Well then, I hope you can carry that with one arm. Give me a shout if you need a hand.’

The team collected their medals, and Eoin clutched his tight in his hand as he waved towards his family. Dixie lifted his hand and waved back. Eoin could see his grin from fifty yards away.

The Leinster branch president presented the cup to Duffy, who did struggle to hold it up without help. The team took turns to lift it over their heads, and jogged over to the Castlerock fans where they received an enormous cheer.

‘Right, lads,’ said Mr Carey when they got back to the
dressing room. ‘You can stay to watch the Leinster game if you like, and then we’ll all meet back at the school at 7.30pm for a party. Nothing too fancy now, but bring your families along too.’

Eoin left his playing shirt on, but got changed quickly and took the steps three at a time up to the hospitality level. He didn’t have a ticket, but the steward recognised him from his starring performance out on the pitch.

‘Eoin, you were fantastic,’ said Dixie, looking happier than Eoin ever remembered seeing him.

‘Thanks, Grandad, I actually enjoyed playing out-half after a while.’

‘And what possessed you to make that long pass at the end? That was truly brilliant.’

‘Well …’ Eoin hesitated, ‘I suppose you’re right. I must have been possessed.’

‘Do you know, Dixie,’ said Andy Finn, ‘I don’t think I’ve seen a better display for the school in the No.10 shirt since the last time it was worn by a boy called Madden.’

Eoin bent to hug his Grandad, and saw he was clutching a large book.

‘It’s an album of photographs of every team I ever played on,’ Dixie said. ‘Andy here had them all, of course, and he arranged to have copies made. Look at that –
two handsome fellows weren’t we?’

Eoin grinned.

He turned to look out on the arena below, and watched as the Leinster stars ran out onto the field. This was a great game, and a magical place. He looked over at the posts where he had kicked the winning points, and where he had last seen Brian, and he smiled.

T
he character of Brian in
Rugby Spirit
is based on a real rugby player, Brian Hanrahan, who died in 1927. All the references to his life and death are based on real events. His story is told in the chapter ‘The Fatal Scrum' in
Lansdowne Road: the Stadium, the Matches, the Greatest Days
by Gerard Siggins & Malachy Clerkin (O'Brien Press 2010). All other references to people, alive or dead, are fictional.

GERARD SIGGINS was born in Dublin and has lived almost all his life in the shadow of Lansdowne Road; he’s been attending rugby matches there since he was small enough for his dad to lift him over the turnstiles. He is a sports journalist and worked for the
Sunday Tribune
for many years. This is his first book for children.

M
ORE
S
PORTS
B
OOKS
F
ROM

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