Rugby Flyer (11 page)

T
ed sat on a table in the middle of the changing room and said nothing at all. He just smiled as he looked around the room at his match-day squad.

‘Are you all right, Ted?’ asked Charlie, eventually.

‘I am, Charlie,’ the coach laughed. ‘I can safely say that in the eight or nine years since I gave up playing I have never felt so happy. I’ve been coaching lads your age, or around it, for five years, and I’ve never worked with a more talented bunch – in fact I can safety say we’ve never even
played against
a more talented group of players.

‘I think the future of Leinster rugby is safe if even twenty per cent of this team makes it through to the academy, and I’m certain it will be a much higher percentage. And I wouldn’t be telling you that if I thought that any of you would be impressed by what I’ve just said. There’s no danger of swelling your heads!’

The team laughed, and Charlie patted himself on the head.

‘But… today we have a job to do, and no one remembers the great schoolboy teams who
didn’t
win trophies. Do you remember what I told you right back at the start of the week?’

‘Yeah,’ said Ultan. ‘You said, “Whether you win this tournament or not is irrelevant to me.’’’

Ultan delivered the line in Ted’s deep voice, which got him a laugh from the boys and a wagging finger from the coach.

‘Yes, I said that, I admit it,’ said Ted. ‘But I also gave you a list of things I
did
want you to go home from Twickenham with, such as learning about rugby and different cultures, and making friends and team-mates. You already have them in the bag, so go out there today and bring home the thing I said was irrelevant. Bring home that trophy.’

And he got up and walked out of the room.

Eoin stared at the boys, and decided to take the lead. ‘OK, you heard the coach, let’s go,’ and he headed for the tunnel that led onto the famous turf.

The Ulster boys were already in their warm-up when Eoin reached the pitch. He nodded to Sam, but this wasn’t the time to exchange words with the opposition.
Eoin looked around the ground and was a bit taken aback by how tall the stands looked compared to Aviva Stadium. Then he remembered that they could fit 30,000
more
people into Twickenham.

Not that there was any need for that sort of capacity today. A few of the other teams had come along to watch the final, and were identifiable by their brightly coloured tracksuits. The Connacht boys were already singing songs, and had prepared banners for each of their fellow Irish teams. Just around the halfway line Eoin spotted the Leinster parents, all dressed in blue and waving the scarves they had been given on the flight over. He couldn’t see his mum and dad yet, but Dixie gave him a thumbs-up as he passed.

Eoin tossed the coin with Paddy O’Hare, who was captaining Ulster, and opted to kick off. He liked to get an early feel of the ball. His kick fell right into the hands of Charlie Johnston, who fed the ball straight to Páidí. Eoin raced to catch up with the action, and signalled to his scrum-half to pass it to one of the forwards, who put his head down and charged at the Ulster boys. Eoin wanted to test out the opposition early and see how ready they were for action. The second row turned and passed to his partner, who did the same. Leinster were inside the Ulster twenty-two and looking unstoppable.
The defence panicked and conceded a penalty, which Eoin smashed high over the bar into the second deck of the enormous stands. Less than two minutes were gone and it was 3-0 to Leinster.

But Ulster fought back, and the rest of the half wasn’t nearly as straightforward for Leinster. Their scrum was struggling as Ulster’s powerful forwards began to take control and just before half-time they overwhelmed the Leinster defence with a series of drives ending with a try near the posts and a 7-3 lead.

Ted was still smiling at half-time, and didn’t seem at all concerned at the scoreline. He stood at the table in the dressing room, took three eggs out of his pocket and started to juggle. The eggs were painted yellow, blue and white, the Leinster colours, and he was quite slick in the way he tossed them in the air and caught them. After half a minute he stopped and began to speak.

‘Did you see that?’ he asked. ‘That’s the handling I saw from you guys earlier in this competition. You were fantastic. Remember the first try against Bath, and when we demolished Racing, and Killian’s try against Cardiff? You juggled the egg like it was red-hot and you moved it at speed. Now let’s see that again. Any questions?’ Nobody spoke up, and Ted moved away to talk to the front-row.

Eoin stared at Ted’s back, puzzled by something he had said. He had called the rugby ball ‘the egg’, which was bugging him for some reason. He walked over to the table and picked up the eggs. He examined the blue one, rolling it in his hand, before he had a sudden flash.

‘Oh no, oh no, oh no,’ he said to himself, turning quickly to find his kitbag. He tore it open and rummaged about inside. It took a minute but he found what he was looking for tucked inside one of his spare boots. He pulled out the crumpled blue sock and stood up.

‘Sorry, Ted,’ he called across the room. ‘I have to go somewhere urgently. But I promise I’ll be back for the second half – this time.’

Before Ted could object Eoin was gone, charging along the corridor and taking the stairs two at a time. He didn’t even stop for breath as he climbed all the way up to the third level of the East Stand. He barrelled down another corridor until he came to a door with the name of the restaurant painted upon it. The restaurant named after a man who had scored just two tries in his international career.

He pushed the door and entered an empty room, the bars shuttered and tables stacked along the wall. ‘Alex,’ he called, ‘are you here?’

Out from behind a pillar stepped Alex, with a puzzled
look on his face.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be playing down there?’ he asked. ‘The Ulster boys have just started to come out.’

‘I am, I am,’ rushed Eoin. ‘But I had to give you this in case it got lost again. I only realised a minute ago what it was and I was terrified to leave it in the dressing room – and I couldn’t bring it out on the field.’

‘But what are you talking about – that’s just a smelly old sock,’ said Alex, pointing at Eoin’s outstretched hand.

‘It’s not,’ said Eoin, ‘Look, look what’s inside.’ And he peeled back the sock to reveal the missing half of Alex’s priceless Fabergé Easter egg.

‘
I
have to go,’ said Eoin. ‘See you after the game.’

He turned and dashed off as fast as he could back to ground level. He hadn’t even stopped to check Alex’s reaction to completing his family treasure.

Eoin found the first door he could that would take him out to the pitch and vaulted an advertising hoarding just in time to see the referee signal that he was fed up waiting for Leinster’s missing out-half.

‘I’m here, ref, sorry,’ called Eoin as he raced into position. ‘Bit of an emergency.’

‘Where did you go?’ hissed Páidí. ‘Ted was going mad on the touch-line a minute ago. He had Johnny Young ready to go on.’

Eoin said nothing and prepared to see what the Ulster kicker would do with the ball. As he awaited his kick he glanced into the grandstand and saw his mum and dad had arrived. But he was confused by the person standing
between them – was he wearing a red shirt and a blue scarf?

Ulster kicked off and Eoin could see that they had got a new confidence in their step from being ahead on the scoreboard. Sam gave him a wink as they waited for the next scrum to form, but Eoin kept his eyes focused on Páidí.

Both sets of teams flagged as the second half went on. Many of the players had played four games in a week, in warmer conditions than they were used to, and their stamina was being tested. Eoin recognised this and took a swig out of a water bottle at the next break in play, close to the ten-metre line inside the Leinster half.

‘I’m going to go back a few metres at this scrum,’ Eoin whispered to his scrum-half. ‘Can you give me the ball on the run heading out to the right. A couple of their backs look wrecked and I have a plan I want to test before their coach replaces them.’

Páidí nodded and fired the ball out to Eoin as he charged through the midfield. Ulster were taken aback by the move, and their centres were left waving as Eoin dashed between them. He veered out to the right, and charged down the wing. As the Ulster winger came out to intercept him, Eoin stepped inside and put his foot on the accelerator. His turn of pace shocked the opposition
and he sprinted in to score, going to ground feet first and touching down as he slid across the grass.

Eoin was swamped by his team-mates as he tried to stand up.

‘What a try!’ roared Seán. ‘That was unbelievable.’

‘Nice score, son,’ smiled the referee.

Eoin stood up and trotted back to kick the afters.

‘Good man, Eoin, that try was pure Hopalongski!’ came a familiar voice from the stands.

Eoin stopped and stared into the crowd. There between his parents sat Dylan, newly released from hospital with not a whit of damage done to his vocal chords. He slotted the ball home and chuckled to himself at the sight of the boy wearing a Munster shirt cheering on the team in blue.

Ulster struck back, and Paddy O’Hare kicked a penalty to tie up the scores again. Eoin looked around his team-mates and could see their faces fall when the ball went over the crossbar. They were down-heartened not just at losing the lead, but even more because it meant they might now have to play another twenty minutes extra time.

Eoin checked the clock and saw there were less than two minutes left of normal time.

The Leinster forwards were stuck around half-way,
finding it hard to make progress. Every metre was hard won, and sometimes lost. As the clock ticked down Charlie stood with the ball between his feet as Páidí decided what to do next. Suddenly an Ulster hand reached in and tried to scoop the ball back. The whistle blew.

‘Penalty, blue,’ said the referee.

‘We’ll kick it, ref,’ Eoin announced immediately.

‘You sure, Eoin?’ asked Páidí, pointing at the ground. ‘That’s the half-way line.’

‘I’ll give it a go,’ said Eoin. ‘There’s a strong wind behind me. We’re going nowhere as it is and I want to get this game over with. The lads are dead on their feet.’

Killian walked over and patted Eoin on the back. ‘Go for it, hero,’ he grinned. ‘If there’s anyone who can do this, it’s you.’

‘Listen, Kil,’ whispered Eoin. ‘Follow the ball, will you? It’s a huge distance and I’m not sure I can make it. Maybe you can frighten one of them into fumbling if you come charging in. You never know what could happen.’

Killian nodded, and went to stand on half-way. He let the other quick runners in on Eoin’s suggestion.

Eoin stepped back and prepared to kick. He thought back to the hours of practice with Barney’s whitewash
spots. The longest of those kicks was from 35 metres, but didn’t he clear the bar by miles – surely that would be enough to make up the difference to 50 metres?

His right leg swung back before he drove it forwards – whump! – the ball flew high off his boot, high towards the clouds and past Alex, watching in his restaurant on level three. It dropped, toppling over itself as wind and gravity did its work. And it fell – smack! – on top of the crossbar and bounced backwards… into the arms of Killian who was still moving at speed. The Leinster wing kept running and dived over the line despite the frantic scrambling of the Ulster defence.

The referee, just as shocked as everyone else, hesitated before thrusting his left arm in the air and pointing down at the ground where Killian was buried under several boys in white. Moments later he was buried under even more boys in blue, but he escaped to allow Eoin complete the conversion just before the referee blew his whistle for the last time.

A
s soon as Eoin had fought off his own teammates, he sought out Sam and Paddy to commiserate with them on the result. He knew the pain of defeat and suspected it would be even harder to take in the cruel way it had come for them. The pair looked a bit shocked, but a group hug sorted that out and they congratulated Eoin on his amazing, if strictly unsuccessful, kick.

‘There goes your 100 per cent record,’ said Charlie, ‘but I bet you wouldn’t have it any other way.’

‘Too right, Chaz,’ grinned Eoin. ‘And it gives me something to work on when we get back to school. I fancy my chances of getting a few 50 metre kicks in the Aviva.’

A former England international made a short speech before presenting the cup to Eoin, who really didn’t know what to say so just thanked his team, Ted and all
the coaches, and the families that came along.

After he had showered and changed, he joined the families in a suite behind the dressing rooms where a reception had been laid on. He grinned at Charlie, who had no fear of being dropped now and was making a bid for the Guinness World Record for cocktail sausage consumption.

‘Well, Mam, I see you picked up some dangerous bug when you were at the hospital?’ Eoin said, straight-faced.

His mother looked horrified for a moment until she heard her husband laugh and Dylan shout, ‘Hey, I’m not dangerous.’

‘Well, irritating, maybe,’ Eoin laughed, before apologising to his mother.

‘How you feeling, Dyl, you gonna be OK to fly?’

‘Yeah, they said there was no problem with that,’ answered his pal.

‘Lucky sucker,’ said Eoin. ‘You’re flying into Shannon so you’ll be home a lot quicker than us. And of course, we have a lot more in our baggage too,’ he chuckled, pointing at the silver trophy.

The mention of baggage reminded Eoin he had left his second bag in the changing room, and he excused himself to go back to get it.

He opened his locker in the dressing room, and sitting
on top of his bag was a small box with his name written upon it.

‘I want you to have it,’ said a voice behind him. ‘I don’t need it, and you helped me complete it. It is right that you have my part.’

Eoin turned and looked into the sad blue eyes of Prince Alexei Obolensky.

‘You’re a very good rugby player,’ Alex went on. ‘Very good indeed. Your try today reminded me of my own here in 1936, even down to the way you touched the ball down. Did you mean it to be so?’

‘Well…’ replied Eoin. ‘I suppose I spent a lot of time studying that move and I saw a chance to try to repeat it. I could have sworn you were at my shoulder all the while I was running.’

‘Yes, I was, in a way,’ said Alex. ‘And I hope you get as much fun out of this sport as I once did. I must go now, my little quest is over and I must rest. But it was wonderful to meet you and I hope we can see each other again some day.’

‘Wait,’ said Eoin. ‘I can’t take the egg. It’s worth twenty million pounds! That sort of money could ruin my life. Can’t you find someone else to take it?’

‘No,’ replied Alex, firmly. ‘The egg is yours now. You must decide what to do with it. Farewell.’

And Alex was gone, leaving Eoin with a small, priceless gift which he stuffed back inside a sock and hid in his kitbag.

He rejoined his family, and with them was Dixie, who had earlier been deep in discussion with an elderly Englishman about the good old days when a try was worth three points.

‘I’ve just been talking to that man there,’ he said, pointing, ‘and he was talking about the remarkable similarities between your try and that of a very famous player back before the War. We dropped into the museum again to check it and he was right. And the funny thing is, the chap who scored the try was very familiar. Obolensky was his name and I have a vague memory that was the same name old Nicky Lubov mentioned to me.’

Eoin grinned. ‘What a remarkable coincidence,’ he said.