Rugby Spirit (6 page)

F
riday arrived, and Eoin was pretty excited about getting to see his first big match. His dad called for him at 4.30pm and they made a quick detour to visit Grandad in hospital.

There were fewer wires around his bed now, and he was in a bright, sunny room with three other men.

‘So you’re off to Lansdowne, Eoin,’ said Dixie, ‘or The Viva I believe they call it now.’

‘The
A
-viva, Grandad,’ laughed Eoin. ‘I was there on a school tour a while back, it’s an amazing place.’

‘It surely is,’ said Grandad, ‘I saw some amazing players there in my youth – have you ever heard of Jackie Kyle? What an out-half he was. Mike Gibson, Willie John McBride, ah a magical place it was, magical.’

The old man reached over to his locker and produced a fifty euro note.

‘Take this, Kevin,’ he said to Eoin’s dad, handing over
the money, ‘and buy the lad a Munster jersey. They’ll need all the support they can get tonight.’

‘Thanks so much, Grandad,’ said a delighted Eoin. ‘I promise I’ll roar them on loud enough for the two of us!’

After a quick detour to the stadium shop to buy the jersey, the Madden father and son took their seats high in the West Stand.

They enjoyed the pre-match atmosphere and Eoin read the programme avidly, picking up more and more details for the rugby database in his brain that Alan had started to fill.

With twenty minutes to kick-off Eoin turned to his dad.

‘I’m starving! Do you fancy a hot dog?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ said his father, ‘Have you enough money?’

‘I’ve a bit of change from the jersey, and I’m famished. I won’t be long.’

Eoin darted down the steep steps, taking care not to miss his footing. He passed the press box, where the reporters were plugging in their laptops and checking the programme against the names on their team-sheets.
That looks like a nice job
, he thought.

Behind the stand was a large area with souvenir stalls,
vending machines and fast food restaurants. Eoin asked a nice girl for a hot dog, and blushed when she smiled at him as she handed him the change.

He looked at his watch as he munched the sausage, and took in his surroundings. The place was thronged with blue shirts, but there were a good number of red ones too.

‘It’s bogger!’ came a cry from behind him.

He turned to see Richie Duffy and Ollie Flanagan pointing at him. The pair were wearing blue Leinster jerseys and the two men with them, presumably their fathers, wore the same, in XXXL sizes.

‘That’s the culchie who’s keeping me off the team,’ spat Flanagan.

‘Well,’ muttered his father, ‘I don’t expect that will be for much longer. Can’t have …
Munster
men
representing
Castlerock College at Donnybrook you know.’

Eoin turned away, desperate to escape the mass of blue shirts, and those four in particular.

He ducked around a corner where he found a
doorway
, which his natural nosiness ensured he opened and entered.

When the floor started to move Eoin got a fright, before he realised he was in some sort of service
elevator
. He pushed all the buttons and was relieved that
no-one was about when the door opened.

Eoin looked around him, seeing a wall completely covered in old team group photographs, which reminded him of the great hall back in Castlerock.

A table was set with a tempting array of hundreds of bite-sized snacks, and Eoin instantly regretted the hot dog he was already digesting.

One side of the room was a glass wall, outside which Eoin could see the floodlights and fans in the opposite grandstand. He realised he was in some sort of VIP area.

‘So it’s a VIP you are, then?’ asked a voice.

Eoin swung around to see Brian who, strangely, was still wearing the black, red and yellow jersey and black shorts.

Eoin pointed to the wall where a group was wearing the same kit. ‘Is that your team?’ he asked.

‘Well, it’s one of the teams that came after me,’ he said. ‘That’s the Lansdowne team of 1981. They won the Senior Cup out there to complete a three-in-a-row. Fantastic team, a tough bunch led by a giant of a man from Kerry called Moss Keane.’

Eoin thought Brian looked a bit young to remember that, but let it slide.

‘I don’t know how I got in here. I’m lost,’ he explained.

‘Sure you’re always getting lost,’ laughed Brian. ‘Are
you here for the game?’

‘Yeah, my dad’s upstairs,’ explained Eoin.

‘How’s the rugby going for you,’ asked Brian.

‘Great … well, no, terrible really,’ said Eoin. ‘I’ve been picked for the A team for the cup match, but none of the players want me to play. The game is in the morning and I’m thinking of going sick.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Brian. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’

‘We could lose, and I could be blamed again,’ said Eoin.

‘Teams lose all the time, and it’s always someone’s fault. They’ll get over it and so will you. You have a chance here to show what you can do at a higher level than ever before. You have to take it. How have you been playing since I saw you last. Did the tackling improve?’ asked Brian.

‘It did, actually,’ said Eoin, ‘I worked out when it’s best to dive and where to hit. I made a couple of cracking tackles in the last game.’

‘Great, so just keep doing that. Are you playing
full-back
?’

‘No, inside centre. And the out-half hates my guts.’

‘Hmmm, that could be tricky,’ said Brian. ‘Just make sure you’re always there to receive the pass, even if it
never comes. Now, you better get back to your seat or your dad will be wondering where you are. Good luck tomorrow and don’t forget to drop back and say hello.’

Eoin was just about to thank Brian when he heard the door open behind him.

‘Who are you?’ asked a steward, ‘And how did you get in here?’

‘I got off the lift at the wrong floor,’ explained Eoin.

‘Who were you talking to?’ asked the steward.

‘Just Brian there,’ said Eoin, turning to point at the Lansdowne player, but only finding thin air.

‘There’s no-one there,’ said the steward.

Eoin was puzzled. Where could Brian have gone so quickly? He hadn’t heard any move from the sliding glass door out into the arena.

‘He was here a second ago – he was wearing
Lansdowne
gear.’

‘Well he’s not here now,’ said the steward, looking at Eoin as if he were mad.

Eoin made his way back to the lift, and up to his seat on the top deck.

His dad was relieved to see him.

‘What kept you, I was starting to worry?’

‘Oh, I met a couple of school mates. We just got chatting,’ he said.

The game had already kicked off and Eoin soon got wrapped up in the excitement. Munster’s powerful
forwards
dominated early on, but as soon as Leinster got the ball back out of the set plays there was a tingle of excitement around the stadium. The home team had a star-studded back line and they waltzed through the Munster tackles time after time.

With just three minutes left Leinster led 24-22 and Eoin could hardly bear to watch.

The Munster forwards were moving slowly up-field, inching the maul towards the Leinster 22. The blue flankers kept charging in, but the men in red held firm. Eventually the maul was felled and the referee awarded Munster a scrum.

The stadium clock showed there was less than a minute left in the game when the ball came back out of the scrum on the Munster side. Eoin noticed that Ronan O’Gara had stepped back a few yards and was wiping his hands on the back of his shorts.

‘They’re going for a dropped goal,’ Eoin said to his dad.

His dad smiled back. ‘You seem to know your stuff,’ he said.

Sure enough, Tomás O’Leary spun the ball out to the Munster No.10. Time seemed to stand still as he
dropped the ball to the ground. In the instant it hit the turf, O’Gara’s powerful boot swung hard and smacked into the leather ball.

It flew high into the air, tumbling over on itself like a rabbit scampering away from a hound. The ball reached its peak high above the crowd who, as one, watched as it hovered for a moment before it slowly began its descent.

It fell right between the upright posts, where the referee had run to check the accuracy of the kick. He raised his hand high and blew his whistle.

The clock had already ticked on to ‘40’, so the
referee
lifted his whistle to his lips once more. Game over: 25-24 to Munster.

Eoin leapt from his seat and hugged his dad.

‘That was brilliant,’ he said, ‘What a game!’

All the way back to Castlerock they talked about the match and the dramatic finish. As Eoin stood at the door of the school waving to his father as he drove away, another car pulled up and Duffy and Flanagan jumped out.

‘No red shirts in this school,’ sneered Duffy.

‘Even winning ones?’ asked Eoin.

Duffy stopped and looked at Flanagan. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

‘See you in the morning,’ smiled Eoin, before he took the stairs two at a time on the way to bed.

I
t was raining next morning, and a cold wind whipped in off Dublin Bay. Eoin shivered as he pulled on the green and white shirt of Castlerock College.

‘Right team, gather around,’ said Mr Carey as the
clatter
of studs echoed around the changing room.

‘Ligouri College aren’t the biggest school in this competition, but they have a decent record. We must not underestimate them. I want to see us getting on top from the off, and I want to see points on the board.

‘Duffy, you better have your kicking boots on, and you need to take anything we get within range in the first twenty minutes.’

‘Madden, you’ve had a good season so far, so let’s see a bit more of that form at this level. Keep close to Duffy and be ready to get the moves going.’

As Mr Carey moved on to gee-up the forwards, Duffy stepped back and turned his head towards Eoin.

‘The only time you’ll see the ball today is at the kick off. Get used to it, loser,’ he muttered under his breath.

Eoin jogged out on the field along with the rest of the team. There were a couple of hundred boys watching, including several members of the SCT.

Duffy kicked off and the ball fell short of the ten metre line, which meant the teams had to return to the middle for a scrum.

‘Sloppy, Duffy,’ roared Mr Carey, ‘Sharpen up.’

Duffy winced, and some of the younger boys laughed at the bully’s discomfort.

Ligouri turned out to be rather a good side, and
actually
took the lead with a penalty kick from almost
half-way
scored by an enormous No.8 with flaming red hair.

Duffy was kicking every time he got the ball, and missed touch on a couple of occasions. It became clear to Eoin that he was not going to pass to him. Inwardly he was rather glad about that, as no passes also meant there was no opportunity to drop the ball, or make a fool of himself once again.

‘Get the line moving,’ roared Mr Carey as the
Castlerock
out-half once again hoofed the ball up-field.

The next time the ball came back to Duffy, he tossed a pass way over Eoin’s head to the outside centre, smirking as the ball fell into his hands and he
sprinted away for a try.

‘Good move, Duffy,’ said Carey as he ran on with a water bottle while the kicker was preparing for the
conversion
. ‘The missed pass caught them out. Keep playing like that and we’ll win this.’

Duffy missed with the goal kick, and missed another penalty attempt shortly afterwards.

With the score 5-3 at half-time, Mr Carey was a little bit concerned.

‘Duffy, what’s wrong with your kicking today? If you’re off-form with the boot there’s no point kicking for touch every ball you get. The first time you let the backs run we got a try. I want to see a lot more of that in the second half.’

‘Sir, to be honest I don’t have confidence in my centre,’ said Duffy, nodding towards Eoin. ‘He’s never played there before on this team and I don’t think he’s up to it.’

‘All right Duffy, that’s enough,’ interrupted Mr Carey. ‘I selected Madden because
I
think he’s up to it. Now make sure he gets plenty of ball in the second half. Out you go.’

From the kick-off the Castlerock forwards won the chase for the ball and immediately formed a ruck. The ball came back to Vincent at scrum-half who
tossed it out to Duffy.

The out-half made a break and dashed past two
Ligouri
tacklers. With Castlerock having three men
outside
shadowed by just two defenders, a try looked likely. Duffy threw the ball in the direction of Eoin, but about a foot higher than he expected it.

Eoin scrabbled at the ball as it bounced off his
shoulder
and forward onto the ground. The referee whistled for a knock-on, giving Ligouri College the scrum.

‘Come on, Madden,’ moaned Mr Carey, ‘hang on to it.’

‘Yeah,’ smirked Duffy, ‘hang on to it, you culchie slob.’

Eoin grimaced, and glared at Duffy. He knew the out-half had done that on purpose, but there was no point complaining.

The next time the ball came out, Eoin was ready for it and reacted quickly to gather it six inches off the ground, just below his knees. He steadied himself upright and threw an inch perfect pass out to the other centre, who crashed through a tackle to score a try.

‘Excellent pass, Madden,’ said Mr Carey as he trotted on once again.

The game ended 10-3 to Castlerock, but the coach was not overly delighted with the performance.

‘We’ve a lot of work to do guys, and we especially
need to look at the way the backline moves. Extra
practice
for the backs tomorrow morning after mass.’

The team groaned, and changed in silence. Charlie looked over at Eoin and cast his eyes up to heaven with a grin. Lorcan caught the exchange and smiled too, Eoin was surprised, but pleased – maybe this team wasn’t too bad after all.

As they left the changing room, Richie Duffy turned to face Eoin.

‘You were lucky with that pass today, Madden, but no-one on this team wants you here. Don’t make any long-term plans about that No.12 shirt.’

‘If I were you,’ replied Eoin, ‘I’d be more worried about who’s wearing the No.10 shirt on that
performance
.’

And with that, he turned and jogged out to where Alan and Rory were waiting, with a smile on his face wider than any of Duffy’s failed kicks at goal.