Rugby Warrior (2 page)

‘T
his is fierce lumpy,’ complained Dylan as he gave his bed a quick test.

‘They all are,’ grumbled Alan. ‘The mattresses are here since the days of Dixie Madden, I reckon.’

‘Who’s Dixie Madden?’ asked Dylan.

‘Ah, Dixie is the school’s greatest legend,’ answered Alan, ‘grandfather of the school’s latest legend …’ as he opened his arms and pointed at Eoin as if he was
introducing
a Hollywood star on a TV chat show.

‘YOUR grandfather?’ said Dylan, puzzled. ‘What did he do?’

‘Well,’ muttered Eoin, ‘he was a bit of a rugby star way back. Won the Senior Cup for Castlerock and could have played for Ireland, they say.’

‘There’s even a dormitory named after him upstairs,’
said Alan.

‘And maybe they’ll call this one after you, Eoin?’ came the question from an elderly man who had just arrived in the doorway. ‘Good evening all, and a special
welcome
to this young man – Mr Coonan, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, sir,’ replied Dylan.

‘I’m Andrew Finn, and I’ve been teaching here almost all my life, or so it feels like. But, sadly, I won’t be getting the opportunity to teach you.’

‘Why is that, sir?’ asked Eoin.

‘I’ve retired, Eoin,’ said Mr Finn. ‘That’s what they call it when you stop working because the calendar says so. It’s a bit of a shame, as I feel like I could go on for years yet.’

‘That’s terrible, sir. Is there no way they’ll let you stay on?’

‘Well, yes, I suppose there is, but I don’t want to block a job for a new teacher coming into the profession. Mr McCaffrey has been very good about it, however, and has asked me to stay on as a sort of consultant to the History Department. He has quite a few plans for
developing
that area, and with the school’s centenary coming up there’ll be a book to write and archives to research. I certainly won’t be idle!’

‘And talking of Mr McCaffrey, it was he who told me
you were here, and to tell you that Dixie and your father are about to leave for Ormondstown. Do you want to come down and say goodbye?’

Eoin took the stairs two at a time and met the
departing
group as they were at the doorway to the school.

‘Ah, Eoin, I’m glad we got a chance to say goodbye. Have a fantastic year here this year, and we’ll catch up at Christmas. Actually, maybe you could let me know the results of your games. Could you text them to me?’ asked Dixie.

‘I can’t, Grandad.’ replied Eoin, ‘I don’t have a mobile phone.’

‘Oh, well then, it’s lucky I brought one along for you, isn’t it?’ Dixie said as he produced a shiny black phone from his pocket. ‘It’s full of “credits”, I think they call them, and I even got your mum to put my number in it for you. So you’ve no excuse.’

‘Oh Grandad, that’s brilliant, of course I’ll keep in touch …’

‘Within the school rules, of course,’ said Mr McCaffrey, ‘I’ll be explaining our guidelines on the use of mobiles at assembly tomorrow …’

‘Of course,’ said Eoin’s dad. ‘And now, we’d better be hitting the road. Have a good term, son, and it’s good to know we can keep in touch a bit more. And remember
– rugby’s all very well, but your books come first!’

‘OK, Dad,’ grinned Eoin. ‘I’ll go straight back to that Maths book I was reading upstairs. Safe home.’

‘Oh, and I’ve something else, too,’ said Dixie,
handing
Eoin a framed copy of the photograph he had wanted, the one of him about to kick the cup winning conversion.

‘Thanks, Grandad, that’s going on my locker,’ he said.

As the car pulled away, Mr McCaffrey turned to Eoin.

‘It’s great to see Dixie looking so well. He was telling me you have been practising rugby over the summer too? You’ll be glad to know we have a new rugby coach looking after the first years. He’s actually from New Zealand, and played for the junior All Blacks. I think you’ll like him.’

T
he first day of term dawned with a loud hammering on the dormitory door. Eoin opened his eyes and lifted himself up on to his elbow to see what the ruckus was about.

‘Half past seven, boys. Breakfast is in fifteen minutes and you need to be fully dressed and washed,’ announced the human cockerel, the housemaster Mr Dwyer.

The occupants of room seven – who now
numbered
six after Rory, Kevin and Fiachra had arrived in dribs and drabs over the previous evening – rose as one, yawned and started digging their uniforms from their suitcases. Alan, who knew where the bottlenecks would build up in their morning routine, scarpered first to the washroom.

‘Do you get a choice of breakfasts here?’ Dylan asked
Eoin as they made their way downstairs.

‘Yeah,’ Eoin chuckled. ‘You can eat, or you can starve.’

Sure enough, the breakfast menu pinned to the door consisted of just one line of text. ‘Sausages (x2)’ it read.

Alan, who liked his food, grumbled ‘How do they expect us to grow when this is all we get?’

‘It’s two sausages more than I got in my old school, in fairness,’ grinned Dylan, ‘but I’ll get you another one, watch this.’

When he got to the top of the queue he smiled at the canteen worker who was doling out breakfast.

‘Is your name Coonan, by any chance?’ he asked. ‘It’s just that you remind me very much of my mother, only you’re much younger looking of course.’

‘Ah no, pet, my name is Miss Collins, and I’m from just down the road, all my life. You’re new, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, I’m up from Tipperary,’ sighed Dylan, ‘I miss home and my mum and sister.’

‘Ah, we’ll look after you, pet,’ said Miss Collins,
slipping
an extra sausage and slice of toast onto his plate.

‘Thanks a lot,’ grinned Dylan, returning her wink.

At the long table Dylan transferred the surplus
goodies
to a grateful Alan’s plate. The boys munched their breakfast and cast their eyes around the room to see who else had returned to school.

Anton came over to say hello and tell them he had stayed back a year in Sixth Class as they had realised he was too young – and that he was back in the Dixie Madden Dormitory.

‘It’s not so bad,’ he said, ‘I’m the oldest in the year now, instead of the youngest, so I get a bit more respect!’

The boys laughed at Anton and promised to keep in touch.

‘Did I take his place?’ asked Dylan.

‘Yeah, I suppose you did,’ said Eoin, ‘But don’t worry, your feet aren’t half as smelly as his and your
sausage-scamming
skills are impressive, so you’re already a
popular
arrival.’

‘Uh-oh,’ said Alan, ‘here comes trouble.’

Eoin gave Dylan a dig in the ribs as two boys strode up the middle of the hall, pausing only to steal a sausage from one of the younger boys’ plates.

‘That’s Richie Duffy,’ he hissed. ‘Nasty piece of work, well worth steering clear of.’

Duffy stopped at the table Eoin and Dylan were seated at.

‘Hi, Eoin,’ he smiled. ‘And who’s this new recruit?’

‘Hi, Richie,’ said Eoin, suspiciously,. ‘This is Dylan, he’s in our dorm.’

‘Hi, Dylan, are you any good at rugby?’

‘Not too bad,’ said Dylan. ‘I didn’t play last year, but I played a bit down in Limerick before that.’

‘Great, I look forward to seeing you out at training tomorrow. We’re having a run out and then the First Year trials are on next week. You be there too, Eoin? Talk to you then.’

And with that, Duffy walked to the back of the room, pausing to grab another sausage from a
fifth-class
boy’s plate before he sat down with this sidekick Ollie Flanagan.

‘He seems OK,’ said Dylan. ‘But what’s wrong Eoin, you look shocked? he asked.

‘I don’t believe it, that’s the first time he’s ever spoken a civil word to me. He tried to make my life miserable all last year – and he succeeded in doing so for loads of other lads. He’s the biggest bully in the year, but now he’s suddenly come over all friendly. That’s why I’m shocked.’

‘Yeah!’ said Alan. ‘He picked on you more than anyone but you stood up to him and he laid off. I suppose
winning
the cup single-handed means he can’t really take you on again – you’re Mr Popular this year. Didn’t you see how all the younger kids look at you like you’re Jonny Sexton?’

‘I don’t know, I’m suspicious though,’ said Eoin.

‘And why is he going around inviting people to rugby training? They haven’t named him captain again
yet
,’ said Rory.

‘Maybe he’s just trying to look like he’s captain so he gets the job?’ said Fiachra.

‘Yeah, that could be it,’ said Eoin.

‘And why was he so keen about whether you play rugby, Dylan?’ Rory asked.

‘I don’t know, maybe they’re stuck for a classy
scrum-half
?’ replied the new boy.

The table went quiet, and Rory frowned.

‘I’m not sure about that.’ Rory said, ‘
I’m
the
scrum-half
.’

A
fter breakfast the entire school assembled in the great hall to hear Mr McCaffrey’s annual
welcome
speech. Eoin shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to avoid Alan who was making faces at him as the headmaster droned on.

‘… and, as I said to Master Madden last night …’

Eoin jumped at the mention of his name, and went pink as he realised half the school was now staring at him.

‘… we have a new school policy on mobile phone use, of which you must take great heed. Day boys may carry a phone into school, but it must be switched to silent at all times, and must not be answered under any circumstances. Our policy can be summed up as “We don’t want to see them, and we don’t want to hear
them.” If we do see or hear a boy with a phone out, it will be confiscated for one week and stored in my safe.

‘Boarding pupils may not carry the phone out of their house, and to do so will also result in confiscation. They may use them at specified times, which vary from year to year, which you will be told by your housemaster. When you are out of the house you must leave them in your locker, switched off.

‘We have provided free wi-fi this year, and will be monitoring your internet activity. Mobile phones are a great boon, but can be an awful nuisance too, so obey our rules.’

Mr McCaffrey finished up by welcoming all the new boys, and gave the usual message about how rugby was the great unifying agent for Castlerock boys, past and present, and how he expected this year to be even more glorious than the last.

‘Yawn, yawn, yawn,’ said Alan as they wandered off to their classrooms. ‘Everyone knows we won’t win the Junior Cup until the great Eoin Madden gets to be old enough to play. I bet they’ll try to forge your birth cert.’

‘Are you really any good?’ Dylan asked, but Eoin just shrugged his shoulders and said ‘Well, I had a bit of a good run last year and I enjoyed the place-kicking, but don’t mind that eejit.’

When they walked into their classroom, they were surprised to see Mr Finn standing at the head of the class with a much younger man.

‘Good morning, boys, hurry on there and get to your seats,’ he said.

When the boys had settled, Mr Finn began to speak.

‘Well, it is good to have you all back at Castlerock, and a few bright new faces too, I see. I’m afraid I won’t have the honour of teaching you this year, but I will still be around and will take you occasionally I’m sure. Your new teacher is this gentleman, Mr Lawson, who comes from the far side of the world. If I say the phrase “All Black” you may have a clue to his origins!’

‘Is he from Africa, sir?’ answered Fiachra.

‘No, not at all. He’s from New Zealand, or the “Land of the Long White Cloud” as the Maori call it,’ said Mr Finn. ‘By a coincidence it’s also the place where your new rugby coach Mr McRae is from too. Mr Lawson will be teaching you history this year, and I know he is keen to commence his first job in Ireland, so I’ll hand you over now with a request to be on your best
behaviour
and most attentive for him.’

The new teacher looked around the room, taking in the faces of the boys.

‘Thank you, Mr Finn, and good morning, guys. I’m
Greg Lawson, and I’m from a place called Wellington, which is the capital of New Zealand. I’ve come to Dublin through an exchange programme between my school and Castlerock, and I really look forward to teaching you this year.

‘Let me assure you I have long been a student of Irish history, so you won’t be missing out there. I also hear you’re all really keen on the subject, which doesn’t surprise me when I hear that you have been taught by Mr Finn last year.

‘You have three main periods to study this year, and we’ll be doing some projects on them all, so I hope you’re all keen for some extra work too. Any questions?’

‘Sir, did you ever see the All Blacks play?’ asked Charlie Johnston, one of Eoin’s team-mates on the victorious Under-13 team the year before.

‘We-e-e-ll,’ Mr Lawson began, ‘it might surprise you to hear that not everybody in New Zealand is a rugby nut. Yeah, of course I’ve seen the All Blacks – we did win the last World Cup, didn’t we? – but I’m more of a soccer and cricket man myself. Do they play that here?’

‘Not in Castlerock,’ said Charlie.

‘That’s a shame, maybe we’ll get something together,’ said Mr Lawson. ‘Anyway, nice try Master Johnston,
but we’re not here to talk sport – let’s open the books on page one …’

A
fter lessons Eoin and Dylan went back to the dormitory to collect their rugby gear.

‘What did you think of that?’ asked Eoin.

‘Not too bad at all,’ replied Dylan. ‘The teachers seem really nice and a few of the lads were friendly enough. They all speak with a funny accent though.’

‘Yeah, and they say we culchies have a weird accent too!’ said Eoin. ‘I couldn’t work that out last year. But sure you get used to it.’

When they reached the pitch they tied up their boots and jogged over to the rest of the boys who were doing stretches with Mr Carey.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Madden,’ he said, checking his watch, ‘And with forty-five seconds to spare – that’s your closest yet. Keep an eye on that – hero of the
Geoghegan Cup or not …’

‘Sorry, sir, my locker was stuck,’ Eoin replied.

‘And who is this new guy?’ asked the coach.

‘Dylan Coonan,’ replied the boy.

Mr Carey asked him about his rugby experience, and raised his eyebrows when Dylan mentioned the
well-known
Limerick club he had played with as an
Under-12
.

The group – all three Under-14 teams – had a very light run-out, shaking the cobwebs out of their legs after a mostly lazy summer.

‘You’re looking fit, Madden,’ Mr Carey said, as the session wound down.

‘Yes, sir, I’m fairly sharp after a summer playing Gaelic. That’s where I met Dylan,’ he explained.

‘Careful you don’t burn yourself out with round-
the-year
sport, though. The Leinster branch has new rules about that this year.’

He addressed the whole group: ‘Listen guys, the old boys’ club were delighted that you won the Father Geoghegan Cup last term. There were a lot of them there that day to see Leinster and they were really proud that their old school did so well. A couple of them organised a collection and they’ve raised some money to make a presentation to you all. They’ve invited you
into the Aviva Stadium next week for a reception, with a bite to eat and some refreshments.

‘It’s a very nice thing for them to do and I want you all on your best behaviour and properly turned-out on Monday after school. We’ll bring you there and back on the minibus. The invite is for the whole year, although there’ll only be presentations to the squad who were picked for the final. Is everyone OK to go? Great, I’ll see you Wednesday for a more serious run-out, when your new coach will be here …

‘Oh yeah, don’t look so surprised, didn’t I mention that I’m moving up to the Junior Cup Team? Well, your new coach is a Kiwi, and a serious rugby player in his day too. He played for the Junior All Blacks, but he’s come over on a coach-exchange programme and will be looking after the Seniors and the Under-14s all year. He missed his flight from London this morning so you won’t get to see him till Wednesday.’

‘Will you be going to New Zealand, sir?’ asked Rory.

‘Eh, sadly no,’ said Mr Carey. ‘“New-Bridge” is as far as I’ll be going this year!’