Rugby Warrior (3 page)

B
y Wednesday the new coach had landed, and had already caused a bit of a stir around Castlerock. He wasn’t very tall, but had long blond hair and a scruffy beard, giving him the appearance more of a Viking than a man from the Southern Pacific. He wore jeans and a day-glo t-shirt, even with the Irish weather starting to turn a little chilly.

But when the Under-14s arrived for training after school that day, he was dressed in a sharp black tracksuit with a tiny silver fern on the chest.

‘G’day boys, my name is Nathan McRae, and I’m here to coach you rugby this year. I hear you’re pretty good already – judging by that beaut trophy sitting in the cabinet in Mr McCaffrey’s office. We’ll have a bit of a run on the paddock today, and get down to some hard
graft soon, but with a bit of luck she’ll be right real soon. I’m totally stoked to be here.’

The boys stared at Mr McRae.

‘You OK?’ he asked. ‘Was it something I said? Did you understand any of it?’

‘Eh, it certainly sounded like English, sir,’ said Rory, ‘but it didn’t make much sense to me …’ as the rest of the group nodded.

‘Fair enough,’ said the coach. ‘I’ll try to keep it simple then. Jog up and down the field there to get loose. Oh yes, and can Duffy and Madden stand over there please.’

Everyone stared as Richie and Eoin were directed to the corner of the field, but the group started their warm-up jog as the new coach wandered over to the duo.

‘OK, guys,’ he started, ‘I’m keen to appoint a captain for this team from the get-go. And I believe in leading a team from the front and by example. I’ve talked to Mr Carey and he tells me you two are the best players we’ve got. Is that true?’

‘Yes,’ said Duffy, without hesitation.

‘Well …’ said Eoin.

‘OK. I’m glad to hear you are so confident in your own ability, Duffy. I like that in a player – and a skipper. But why are you being so modest, Madden?’ the coach
asked. ‘Is it not true that you won the cup for us
virtually
single-handed this year?’

‘I’m not arguing that I’m one
not
of the best players, sir.’ Eoin retorted, ‘It’s just I don’t think Richie is one too.’

Richie Duffy looked stunned.

‘I see what you did there, Madden,’ said Mr McRae. ‘Now, look, are you quite sure of what you say?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Eoin. ‘Richie’s a good player, but he’s not in the top two in the team. I think if you’re looking for a captain, you should look at Charlie Johnston, who plays lock.’

‘OK,’ said Mr McRae, ‘I’ll have to think about this and watch the DVD of the final again. I was impressed with you when you moved up to first five-eighth after Duffy got injured …’

Eoin looked puzzled.

‘Oh sorry, I forgot you guys have different names for positions – “first five-eighth” is what we call your
out-half
.

‘Anyway, I also believe that the crucial spine of the team is where the best leaders are – hooker, number eight, out-half, full-back – so I’ll be looking closely at all those positions from the get-go. Go and join your squad and we’ll talk about this later.’

Eoin and Richie jogged towards the far end of the pitch where the Under-14As and 14Bs were still doing their warm-up.

‘You’re a rat, Madden,’ spat Duffy. ‘Who do you think you are dissing
me
. I’ve been the best player on that team since we started playing five years ago.’

‘Sorry, Richie, nothing personal, I just don’t see it that way,’ replied Eoin.

‘I was even getting to like you a bit,’ Duffy hissed, ‘but if the gloves are off, then I’m up for a scrap too.’

‘Like I said, it was nothing personal,’ said Eoin.

T
he first week at school flew past, and Eoin and Dylan settled quickly into life in Castlerock. At the weekend Eoin took Dylan on a tour of the grounds, showing him the best hiding places and the best
windows
in which to sit to catch the last of the sun’s rays. Dylan even started going about on his own, which was a relief to Eoin who didn’t really want to spend the whole school year with a Siamese twin.

After lessons on Monday the whole year trooped onto two mini buses parked just outside the headmaster’s office. Mr Carey climbed on board and stood at the top of the bus in which Eoin was sitting with his friends.

‘Right boys, a bit of quiet please. This is a rare treat for Castlerock rugby, and I hope you enjoy the day and appreciate it. I know you understand how you need to
behave so I won’t go on about it.

‘When we get to the Aviva we will go straight to the committee room where we will watch a DVD of last year’s final and have some snacks and drinks. Then the old boys want to present you with a memento of the occasion. Enjoy the day and – like I said the last time we went there – make me proud.’

Dylan was clearly excited as the bus made its way through the traffic towards Lansdowne Road. ‘I’ve never been here before,’ he admitted. ‘I’d love to see a big match in the Aviva, I can’t imagine what it was like to actually
play
there.’

‘It was a bit special,’ agreed Eoin, ‘but it’s funny how easy it is to shut off everything when the match is going on. I only really panicked towards the end, just in time for the last kick of the game!’

‘But they all lived happily after, so you got over it quickly then,’ quipped Dylan.

The bus pulled into the tunnel that ran all the way around the inside of the stadium, and parked in an area where the passageway widened.

The boys were greeted by a woman in a stadium jacket and escorted to a lift which took them to the fourth level. The room was lined with tables crammed with goodies, but the Castlerock boys remembered their
teacher’s warning so they waited for the order to eat.

A recording of the final was playing on a big screen, and Dylan was among the boys keenly watching the action.

‘That’s really cool, Eoin,’ he told him. ‘You’re a pretty good player. But I’d say I’d have a good chance of
getting
on as scrum-half. He’s not up to much, is he?’

‘Careful now, Dylan. Rory’s one of our room-mates and he’s a good pal. See how it goes – but you might have to take your time,’ Eoin replied.

‘Why?’ asked Dylan. ‘There’s a new coach. He’ll pick the best man for the job, surely?’

‘Maybe …’ said Eoin, who couldn’t fault Dylan’s argument, but he could also see it would mean trouble ahead in room seven.

‘Attention, everybody,’ called out a man in a grey suit. ‘My name is Paddy Murray, and it is an awful long time since I played Under-13 for Castlerock College. I’m chairman this year of the old boys’ club, and we decided to honour your remarkable victory in this very stadium last season. It was a stunning performance and we were very proud of you that day, especially with so many people here to watch it.

‘We would like to make a presentation to each member of that marvellous side, and I would like to
invite the the inspirational captain, Richard Duffy, to come up and call out their names.’

Richie joined Mr Murray at the top of the room, and began to read out the names of the team.

‘Hugh Bowers, Glen Fox, Harry Young …’ and on he went, working his way through the squad. Each player was presented with a team photo and a classy dark green tracksuit with his name embroidered on the back and the legend ‘Fr Geoghegan Cup winners’ on the chest.

Duffy went through the team in order of shirt number, but missed out the Number 15. When he had finished with the replacements, he called out his own name,
collected
his prize, and walked back to his friends at the back of the hall.

There was a round of applause before Mr Murray put his hand up. ‘Hang on a second,’ he said. ‘There’s one tracksuit left over … Let me check … yes, the name on the back is “Madden”. Is he not here? Has he left the school?’

‘No, sir.’ said Eoin, ‘I’m right here. Maybe Richie forgot I was playing that day.’

Duffy glared at Eoin, but if his omission was a
deliberate
snub, it certainly didn’t work. As Eoin walked up to receive his memento, the applause and cheering was louder than for all the other boys put together.

A
fter a couple more speeches the boys settled back to watch the dramatic second half of the game, or to wander around the trophy-filled room and stare at the photographs of the sport’s greatest warriors from years gone by.

‘Congratulations, Eoin, that was a lovely prize to get, wasn’t it?’ asked Mr Finn.

‘Yes, sir, thank you,’ he replied.

Mr Finn pointed at one of the photographs on the wall. ‘That’s the first team to visit here from New
Zealand
, in 1905 I think,’ he said. ‘The captain of that time was a very special player, although I don’t see him in the photo. Ah, here’s Mr McRae, he may be able to tell you about him …’

‘Hello, Mr Finn,’ the new coach replied. ‘And well
done, Eoin, I’m impressed watching the game there.’

‘Tell me,’ asked the older teacher, ‘do you know much about this All Black team?’

‘I do indeed,’ said Mr McRae, his eyes lighting up as he looked at the picture, which had become yellowed with time.

‘They were the first team to be called the All Blacks – the Originals we call them back home. They were a phenomenal unit, led by an amazing man called Dave Gallaher, who believe it or not was born in Ireland …’

‘Really?’ said Eoin. ‘Why was he playing for New Zealand then?’

‘Well, I’m not sure of the details, but I think his family immigrated to New Zealand when he was a baby. That was an amazing journey to take at the time, sailing in a steam ship which took months. He grew up to be one of our greatest players, and wrote the best book about playing the game that I’ve ever read. My first coach told me he thought it was the start of modern rugby
coaching
and I can’t argue with that.

‘His story is still remembered in New Zealand though because he lost his life in the First World War. When I was still playing I had a season in Auckland and we got to the final of the Dave Gallaher Shield. I’m glad to see he’s not forgotten in his native land too.’

‘Well that’s an amazing story,’ said Mr Finn. ‘I must look him up on the Google-machine in the staff room. And he was from Ireland, you say?’

‘Yeah, a place called Donny-gal, is it?’

‘Ah yes, Donegal. We pronounce it “Dunny-gawl” here.’

‘It’s funny that he’s not in this picture.’ said Mr McRae, ‘Maybe you could find out why on the Google-thing too, Mr Finn?’

Eoin laughed and excused himself before he
wandered
over to where his friends were tucking into the last of the chicken goujons and cocktail sausages.

‘That was a great dig at Duffy,’ said Alan, ‘He totally tried to blank you but you ended up an even bigger legend.’

‘Yeah, well I decided this summer I’m not going to stand for any rubbish from Duffy any more. Bullies like him just need to be taken on. He’s a coward really, and I think if we all stand together and stand up to him he won’t be able to bully us all.

‘I even told Mr McRae that he wouldn’t make a good captain this year. I told him in front of Duffy too. I think that shocked him a bit – that’s why he was trying to get back at me today.’

‘Wow, Eoin, that was brave,’ said Rory, who like most
of the boys had been one of Duffy’s victims. ‘You’ll want to watch your back, though. He’ll try to get at you in other ways.’

‘Whatever,’ said Eoin, with a grin. ‘You heard the cheer – I’ve got the guys behind me. I’ll be all right.’

A
s the boys marched back to their bus, Eoin tapped Alan on the shoulder.

‘That’s where it all started, that’s where I first met Brian,’ he said, pointing to the corridor that led to the treatment room.

‘Who’s Brian?’ asked Alan.

Eoin reddened as he realised he had blurted out his secret, distracted by the excitement of the evening and the return to the scene of the most amazing days of his life.

‘Eh … eh … I mean … where we went on the
stadium
tour …’ Eoin stammered, unconvincingly.

‘You mentioned some guy called Brian before. What’s that all about?’ asked Alan.

Eoin stopped and looked at his feet.

‘OK, but it’s a long story, and a bit unbelievable, really,’ he said, ‘but I’ll tell you all about it later.’

‘Hmmm,’ said Alan, looking quizzically at his friend. OK, how about a stroll around the grounds when we get back. I need to work all that pizza off,’ he said,
slapping
his belly.

The rugby players climbed back onto the bus for the journey back to Castlerock. Eoin sat quietly at the back with Alan, and the pair were a bit surprised to see Richie Duffy and Dylan get on the bus together,
laughing
and joking.

‘What’s Duffy up to, I wonder?’ mused Alan. ‘He’d usually have the new boy crying in the corner by now.’

‘Dylan wants Rory’s place on the team,’ replied Eoin. ‘It looks like he thinks sucking up to the captain is the best way to do it.’

‘Oooh, that could get very messy!’ said Alan. ‘Being on the first-fifteen means everything to Rory. Our little dorm mightn’t be so happy if Dylan takes his place.’

‘I know, but Dylan is tough. I’m afraid his ambition could be a problem for us all.’

The return bus journey passed peacefully, interspersed with guffaws from Duffy and Dylan who seemed to be getting on like a house on fire.

Eoin gave Fiachra his tracksuit and asked him to leave
it in the dorm, before he and Alan set off at a jog for the playing fields. Once they got there Eoin sprinted the length of the field with Alan puffing along far behind. The friends lay on the ground till their breath returned to a steady pace.

‘So what’s all this mystery?’ Alan gasped.

‘Seriously, you have to promise not to tell
anyone
, or tell me I’m an idiot,’ Eoin pleaded. ‘But I can’t explain it, just that what I’m telling you is completely true.’

‘OK, I promise, go on,’ said Alan, now completely mystified.

‘Brian is a ghost––’ Eoin started.

Alan laughed. ‘A ghost? Ah, come
on
, Eoin, you must think
I’m
an idiot.’

‘No, I’m deadly serious,’ he replied. ‘I met him in the Aviva last year, and we became friends. He gave me some really good tips about rugby, even during the final.

‘He was an old player who was killed playing rugby in the ground years ago, and came back to, sort of, haunt the place ever since. He’s gone now though, the last time I saw him was just after we won the final.’

Alan just stared at his best friend. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times as he tried to ask one of the many questions he wanted to ask. They all came at a rush.

‘Was he, like, white like a sheet, or all gory like a zombie?’

‘How was he killed?’

‘And how did you see him?’

‘Hang on, hang on,’ said Eoin. ‘He looked like any rugby player in his kit, but the jersey and boots looked very old-fashioned. He looked a bit pale, I suppose, but there was no blood. He was a prop and got injured when a scrum collapsed. I still don’t know why I was able to see and hear him – he told me that he’d been around for more than eighty years and I was the first person able to see him and that he was able to talk to.

‘He was a really nice lad, very friendly but a bit lonely I suppose. I sneaked in here a few times to talk to him. He was a great help. I hope I’ll be OK this year without his advice.’

‘Ah, don’t say that, Eoin,’ Alan chipped in. ‘You were epic last year, ghost advice or not.’

Alan tapped his toe against the goalpost. ‘I’ll tell you Eoin, that story is a bit hard to take in to be honest … But I
do
believe you, even if no one else would. I’d love to see a ghost,’ he went on. ‘Is there any chance he might reappear if we went back to the Aviva?’

‘I don’t think so,’ replied Eoin. ‘On the day of the final he said he was going to leave and there was no sign of
him there today.’

‘It’s not fair,’ grumbled Alan, ‘Nothing interesting ever happens to me.’

‘I don’t know. One day you might beat me in the race back,’ laughed Eoin, as he took off in the direction of the school.